The best ideas are those that come visit your imagination while you’re half sleeping. Maybe they’re not actually that good, but they make a lot of sense in a mind that’s partly asleep. In such a state you’re given excellent chances to improve your creativity or to complete personal tasks. But is there anybody to really have the strength and dedication to get up and take action? Or at least take a note in order to not forget? I do not. It always happens that all these resources offered by pre-sleep delirium go inevitably to waste. Starting from scratch the day after, or in any case after the rest, isn’t much appealing, especially because, despite the lack of memory, one perfectly knows and regrets the laziness of the moment. But rest is a need of both mind and body, how can one live either fearing inspirational intellectual developments or the refreshment of rest? If you give up in the first case you risk cerebral stasis, in the second you’re very likely sooner or later to get a nervous breakdown. So many self-inflicted traps one can’t avoid… I need some sleep.
Month: March 2009
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When table football triggers acknowledgment
One day you wake up more pissed than usual – thanks to these fucking table football enthusiasts that seem to not have anything better in life than devote themselves to red or blue plastic goalies – and it happens you realize your brain is sort of frozen. It’s not the lack of sleep or the thirst for revenge that is freezing your cerebral faculties. You ‘re not even sick or anything, it’s just that your grey matter is stuck in a vacuum. Focusing doesn’t work either. Focusing on nothing cannot work in normal state, not even when you had a shitty morning desperately trying to get some sleep. Then you sort of get the feeling it’s not a temporary state, it’s habit. All you can do is think of trivialities and get obsessed over nothing. I honestly don’t remember to have been spending some quality time thinking about anything truly significant in the last period. It’s not that I didn’t know it, it’s just that I didn’t stop to panic about it. Of course the process is not totally intentional, of course I tried to do some relatively significant thinking, but I couldn’t concentrate on it for more than fifteen minutes. After a while the brain automatically switches to stand-by mode. I completely forget of having been thinking at all after that, and the vacuum enlarges. Sometimes it’s like not knowing why caring at all about certain aspects that at the moment you take them into consideration seem so vitally important. Some other times it simply feels like it should be for average minds. Thinking must be like a sort of athletic skill after all – why not? – so it requires the necessary training; once you have not trained enough it’s useless to just wish you could be doing anything like a pro. Then you get older and your brain is no better than your legs, you can’t use it properly anymore. Your desire goes in one direction and the physical attributes go in another. You part ways, a day after the other, the process isn’t going to slow down. So maybe it’s just training that one needs after all? Seems very simple if you put it that way. Like anybody can do it when there’s still time.
Anyway, what I was going to say before starting I don’t remember. I wish I could see what was my point at all. I had some kind of idea, vague and not very clear, but still it was something. Now I only know there are the usual frustrating activities in sight and all I can do is to be worried and paranoid about them.
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Something is rotten
One can make conjectures about emulation all one wants, or invent conspiracy theories – wouldn’t it be easier to give full credit to them? – to fill a void in acknowledging the other. But we didn’t know the other. That’s the fact. We did not. Did we? Whatever the diverse reasons behind an individual choice, the impotence of definition is what we have left. In our hands there’s no power of comprehension. The letting go is just a false guess. That is probably not the aspect that’s meant to be sought. That’s just about cleansing our conscience of the sense of guilt for having gotten all wrong, for days, months, maybe years. It’s not our fault, not necessarily. Taking care of oneself and trying to figure that out is a draining occupation already. And to pretend to take care of another or to get to know another before having the faintest idea about one’s own self is the root of all hypocrisies. All the idle talk, the vivid reconstructions – on the basis, of what? -, the glorifying or the condemning, all that is in the flesh of the living, not in the composure of the dead.
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The rabid rabbit robbed a robber. By Micky
So I found this message about a rabid rabbit that robbed a robber. The where or when or why were not part of it. From what I gathered the rabbit was an afflicted creature whose health was ruined by a lethal or semilethal disease. Nobody can tell if the rabbit died of rabies or got better after some time the robbery took place. I prefer to think he fully or partially recovered. Anyway, this rabbit’s remaining days were very likely spent in prison. Maybe the rabbit was fighting the private battle against illness before these facts and had to turn to felony to beat it, or at least to offer convincing demonstration of his attempt to the world. It’s a dreadful story of crime all condensed in a single poignant line. A line filled with evocative alliterations. All those labial and dental consonants have to mean something. They express the violence of the assault, the clash, the battling. A lot of speculations followed in my mind. What is that lead the rabbit to commit the mischief? Did he rob that robber before or after a previous imprisonment? What happened to the robbed robber? Did he choose another career or just robbed somebody else, maybe another robber? Did he rob the rabbit back to save his honor? Did the rabbit kill the robber after that? Did he commit suicide? Did he infect the robber with rabies and they both died? Was the line written as a mysterious admonition or is it just general knowledge? What was this Micky to prove with it? A talent at tongue twisters? Is it a social commentary about miserables turning one against the other? Does it support a dislike for rabbits and robbers as the lowest step in the evolution of civilization?