:: a.whisper.in.water ::
::
i'm.okay : how're.you? : thanks.for.asking : thanks.for.asking ::| [::archive::] |
|---|
| [::link.portal::] |
| :: not.a.sellout [>] |
| :: you.know.it's.true [>] |
| :: sgt.pepper [>] |
| :: special.k [>] |
| :: j3rk.city [>] |
| :: florita [>] |
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| :: drew [>] |
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| :: girls.girls.girls [>] |
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| :: wang.of.old [>] |
| :: achewood [>] |
| :: hulahluaghalgah [>] |
| :: unamerican [>] |
| :: cheater [>] |
:: Friday, May 27, 2005 ::
[ ...as long as we remember / there's something to reget... ]
One of the few useful critical concepts the English discipline handed me buried amidst the noisome, wanky, pedantic tripe that drove me away from potentially-rewarding-but-probably-fruitless grapples with impenetrable Ulysses (et cetera, et cetera) was that of overdetermination; i.e., an event with indeterminately many causes, whose ultimate origin is therefore impossible to ascertain (that's a gross oversimplification, but this is pretty fucking pedantic as it is). Regardless as to what its actual meaning might be, the term was used to refer to moments that simply meant too much for whatever reasons; they were TOO central, I suppose.
Regardless of all that, plans for today (Friday) point to my seeing Jenn today for the first time since March 20th. We've been split for over two months, and in no trivial way: I find myself staring at a pretty significant emotional separation, a consequence of a drift I'd never have commissioned, but whose worth is not neglected. This weekend is pretty much my last chance to see (Douglas Adams? Anyone?) her before she takes off for about three weeks or more; I'm a bit fuzzy on the details myself. Regardless, contact, though already pretty darn non-trivial given the forcibly-enforced Period Of Silence, gains that extra edge of desperation and necessity, whatever the fuck it may come to mean. To add to the mix, she's coming home from spending a night in Long Island, saying her goodbyes to a friend (the sort of friend that complicates matters, intrinsic worth aside), which while manageable at the moment, can only scald as emotional distance is closed (assuming it is).
The nail in the coffin of Too Fucking Much, the final push on the side of Just Leave It Be And Move On 'Cause This Is Some Heavy Shit, is that Saturday is yet another anniversary without cause for celebration, a perverse commemoration of an unrequited, abandoned love. I wasn't just fucking kidding around when I started talking about overdetermination and hypersignificance and the like. I'm aware that this meeting is necessary on any number of levels, and can only hope for the best(and to know what the best is). In any case, it's what I'm up to soon enough.
Back on the mundane side of things: anybody (and here, I specifically beseech the input of all y'all Jersey Rats) know what the fuck I should do with my car, specifically in the way of a good place I can leave it and train into The City? Odds are it's going to live on Ardmore Avenue for the weekend. Its keys will be living with me, thanks.
Music: Rachel's - Old Road 60. More stuff from Alex (who's off from this coast, at least for a while, on Saturday himself). Think vaguely like Chris Thile, only instead of a self-assured folk outfit, it's a lost indie band that started playing chamber music and things like bassoons. Or something, anyway.
:: Aziz 6:21 AM [+] ::
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Comments:
Last Chance To See - oh yes.....
Douglas Adams alright!
Please visit my blog Another Chance To See where I bring the stories of these animals up-to-date with current news articles.
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Douglas Adams alright!
Please visit my blog Another Chance To See where I bring the stories of these animals up-to-date with current news articles.
