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The Magical Universe

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I killed the time and now it's always seven o'clock. [Dec. 5th, 2005|11:40 pm]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Music |Northern Star-Hole-Celebrity Skin]

Am I awake? Am I alive? Am I here? I think that this helps me to sleep. I really hate an autumn/winter night sky when it isn't clear and the only light is reflected. Jumping into cold water makes me alive. Corgan says fucking makes you alive. Well, he has a penis. I've recently experienced emotional states of genuine care/concern/liking of members of my own species. I mean genuine, fucking isn't even a consideration and pheromones cannot be blamed. Am I becoming incorporated? Because these experiences make me question prior moments in my life and my disgust toward "well-meaning assholes who don't get 'it' and never will." The darkness is really making me want to freak out. I'm anticipating owning a grow light for humans. I hate people who fuck for love and love for fuck. A drug rep gave my boyfriend an hour glass the other day. I said that I wanted one that rotated of its own volition when time was up, or nearly up. He began to give me a lecture on physics, and the impossibility of a perpetual motion machine, and I asked... ENTROPY (because that was the title of a short story I read once), and he said "yeah." I felt very betrayed. I never realized that a perpetual motion machine did not exist. It seemed/seems horribly unfair and a complete rip-off and I don't understand why I can't make one. A few days later we began a discussion concerning deja vu, entropy, and time travel (because I was reading a book called The Time Traveler's Wife) and, as always, my experiences are different from his beyond the point of communication. Or maybe he doesn't want to comprehend, either way the result is the same. He refutes my "what ifs" and "anything is possible if I can conceive it" attitude. Note: I am not complaining about him; I am not one of those suckers that expect completion from domestic union; it's just that... shit, he's the smartest person I talk to and in many ways he's right. I don't have the capacity to consider the subjects of this journal at the moment.
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Solipsism Joke [Dec. 3rd, 2005|10:37 am]
The Magical Universe
bloomingonion
Here, check this out, it's a joke, it will make you laugh.

Person 1: Hey, so I went to a solipsist convention the other day.
Person 2: Oh yeah, how was it?
Person 1: I was the only one there!

Ohhh man, it just gets funnier every time! Go ahead, tell your friends!
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Um. Hi. [Dec. 1st, 2005|01:22 am]
The Magical Universe

pyralid
I have a theory that every word you will ever read is part of a huge message especially coded for you. I think you have to break that code to get into your next step along the way.

I pick up old shopping lists and notes people leave on the street. I save the slips of fortune cookies. I want to figure out the puzzle.

Sometimes I'm only alive in the very edges of my extremities--the fingertips, curling toes, split ends of my hair. That has to do, too, with words. (Ask me how and I'll tell you.)
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I want, am, attempting, swim, trying, enjoying, ignoring, prefering, floating, having, stopped stopped, collecting, thought, returning, gone [Nov. 21st, 2005|11:00 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
I want to build a dreamachine; the internet ones just don't cut it. I'm cutting up two of Shakespeare's plays and attempting to receive a grade for it. I swim at night and try not to feel guilty for enjoying it; I try to ignore the existence of the cliche that I'm trying to return to the womb. I prefer to draw with crayons. At night when I'm floating on my back I think of The Sheltering Sky. I've been having a lot of those moments lately. Past things I have been trying to define moments of purity. I have stopped having sex and I feel better. I have stopped eating dairy and I feel better except for when I smell cheese and then I feel worse. I am collecting scraps of paper in order to store secrets on them. I think of things that I want to place here but become immersed in life away from this computer instead. By the time I return it's gone and I'm left with self description.
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Don't dream it, be it. [Sep. 24th, 2005|11:31 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Mood |too late]
[Current Music |Bury Me-Smashing Pumpkins-Gish]

So I have outlines for multiple novels on multiple pages of multicolored paper. They [the pages] don't really comprise anything resembling pieces of book. The required triangular (?) plot structure isn't there and really never should be. That they resemble the majority of the traditional structure isn't really that important (a lot of books don't), but it does seem necessary that a resolution should be possible. How is a resolution possible? This is not writer's block; it is a conflict of interests. I realize that there are "real novels" that lack a [satisfactory] resolution, but you know that is not what I am referring to. I possess the technical knowledge, technical skill, hell even "style" and creativity... blah, blah. I could (probably) resolve the conflict of interests and write two novels in one. This is the "problem" of my life. Is it enough to call forth past experience or must I relive it and, if so, is that a choice that I am willing to make? Writing, "art," all of that is secondary/symptomatic of something else (as is everything, as are words, as is language comprised of symbols).

When I was fifteen I freaked out when I comprehended. I wrote that experience down and made it public. A channel of communication occurred and I became distracted from the point for too long. I associated myself too much with someone who was wrong. This is the first time that I have admitted that he was wrong. Ok, but the real thing is my inability to find a middle. Is this the middle? Is it all or nothing or can I insist on everything? I was upset the first time that I realized that I could not not exist. Regardless of what objective reality is, this remains true: *I* cannot not exist. So demand everything. Somehow I'm not sure if demanding everything should involve the six syllabi pinned to my wall. But somehow it seems that if I really choose everything that annotated bibliographies must be as necessary as sex with a homeless drug addict in the restroom of a residency hotel, right? Right.
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a self-portrait in crayon [Sep. 23rd, 2005|12:49 pm]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Mood |alert]
[Current Music |Revelling-Ani Difranco-So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter]

I am over-stimulated. I made a last minute, impulsive, but necessary decision to live on campus this semester. I am enrolled in seven different classes which means seven different combinations of students and seven different instructors. I am [somehow] vice-president of a student club. I live with three people other than myself. Two of these people are ESL speakers and the other does not use contractions. I obsess over language and this is not helping. Much of the Rocky Horror Picture Show does not translate. I have already begun barricading myself in my bedroom for 12+ hour increments. I have others telling me that I am wrong about "The Portrait of a Lady." This is called being neurotic and this is why I am reluctant to post.

At night I try to sleep and instead hallucinate alternate versions of time and space. I have trouble delineating the line between my unconscious nervous impulses and my philosophical alienation from humanity. I've eaten cheese this week and now I have nightmares about a murdered baby and cursed land. Other people make my skin crawl to the point where I'd rather cut it off than continue to experience the sensation. I want to write and instead find myself doing homework but instead of homework I make abstract pictures with crayon. Rather than run or scream I wrote trite sentences to myself during American Novel II yesterday and then cancelled all further commitments for the day. Throughout this experience I am happy.

Focusing on the computer screen makes me tired. I've been compiling lists of immoral behaviors, social taboos in an effort to portray them as amoral. I think that I may have succeeded in dislocating my ankle, repeatedly. I still maintain that I am happy. I have been successfully "coping." The problem with coping is that it leads to the sublimation of personal analytical thought to the point where all I can [willingly] write are entries that are self-descriptive rather than self-aware.
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(no subject) [Sep. 16th, 2005|08:35 pm]
The Magical Universe
sakeofmercy
My habit is to consider my life singularly focused upon distinctly solitary events. However, I must force myself to remember that life is a conglomerate. Heaven forbid any of these things should fall out of place.
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adminstrative guilt [Sep. 15th, 2005|04:53 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Music |Canon in D for Strings and Continuo-Baroque Chamber Orchestra & Ettore Stratta-Baroque Favorites]

I'm gratified to see that people other than myself have joined. I've agonized over this and come to the realization that I'm too antisocial to say much more than that with any degree of sincerity. At the moment real life (in the form of copious assigned reading and unreliable internet connections) semi prevents very active encouragement of this "community" on my part. The rest of that which prevents me I'll leave open to speculation. To date, this journal is little more than an extension of my private journal; that is boring. I leave this as yours to make posts in (where "yours" = other)... a great experiment, right?
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(no subject) [Sep. 2nd, 2005|10:39 am]
The Magical Universe
sakeofmercy
My name is Lisa.
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The Awakening and other things [May. 17th, 2005|12:05 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Mood |contemplativecontemplative]
[Current Music |Grey-Ani Difranco-So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter]

Some thoughts I've been meaning to record and haven't; cut because I'm not sure they're pertinent to this journal. They are haphazard anyway.Collapse )
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