Skip to main content

Victorians

In no age before or since could one really say "She came and kissed me for the first time and I never knew such delight" and "Teacher and I played romp in bed" without attracting a lot of irrelevant attention. Whatever the case, those two, Anne and Helen, certainly did love one another and while it is well to dream of two Victorian girls in long stockings and chemises thrashing one another with pillows, I am in the cold laboratory again. It has been a very nice evening for me anyway. Tammy brough enchiladas for the day shift revelries and was kind enough to leave them for our enjoyment. They made my dinner and shall make my breakfast also. I have packaged a neat sum of them since there is nothing in the house to eat. Think of how much better I will write tomorrow with a fortifying meal in me!

It is cold enough outside that were I in a heated room I would feel very cozy, and crawling into our bed tonight seems a most desirable thing. When I do, the sky will already be lightening and the world will be stirring to life. I found this a little disturbing at first, but now it is a great comfort to me to know that someone else will be tending the world while I drift off for a while, and the bright rooms will be waiting for me when I wake, the computer where I sit and write, the birds and trees and all the tea I like.

It has always seemed a little ironic to me how I hate night, and darkness, and my present circumstances have made it necessary for me to make something of it for myself. I console myself that all the while light touches the earth I am in my bed, or writing in the dining room, absorbing its warmth, and all the hours I spend in a windowless laboratory all is dark and still outside anyway.

There is Christmas music on the radio. At this rate, I will grow tired of it before the time. It is like eating cake when I don't want it. I have been wanting to make more mix CD's so that I won't switch them out on the road so much, and I won't be forced to listen to the radio, which is not what I would have picked.

I also came to a conclusion about movies and television and I don't know if I am wrong for it. If it hurts me, makes me unhappy or despondent or ashamed, should I not excise it from my life? It seems like so much of what I have seen lately has hurt me that I have no further desire for movies and I gave up on television long ago. Seeing other humans be thus makes me unfairly hateful toward my species, and unbearably sensitive to distasteful subjects. If I can control my environment, should I not remove what I hate? I see the worst of my kind in television, any visual, really. It's as though other humans have stopped making our movies and television shows and this mechanical, calculating beast has taken over, programming the work according to statistical effect so that I can discern no attentive soul in it. Oh, well, I have free will, don't I?

Sent from Amanda's Treo @-'-,--

Popular posts from this blog

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...
more &

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...
more &

The day was described as unseasonably warm

The day is so beautiful, but I do not feel beautiful. I feel like a void. The world will not be any more beautiful if I go into the park and enjoy the sunshine. The birds will still sing whether I go or stay, and this person does not seem capable of feeling any kind of happiness. I have been going through old entries, and find the same things I have always found when doing this. I have the same feelings and interests as I always did, I feel the same pressures and struggles as ever. I have been tagging things, but it is a never-ending task. I have nearly 800 posts in this journal alone, to say nothing of paper journals and other notes on the Internet. I thought I would organize my notes because I do not feel capable of imbibing any kind of information or communicating anything of importance. However, I am tired. I did not sleep well last night. It is as though at some point years ago I lost some sleep, and I have been losing it ever since. I have a strange, lost feeling when I thi...
more &