dolorous interludes.

Dont impose your moralistic views on me. Dont tell me to judge. Dont tell me to admonish those who do things "wrong" in your eyes. Dont tell me to rationalise. Dont tell me that Literature is everything false and nothing real. Dont tell me Im a wreck and that i deserve no more chances. Dont make me feel as if you were all perfect and i, perfectly imperfect.

The sickening motions of yesterday were painted by the very colours of Nature, as if on canvas ready to be framed. I was not quite the painter though. Who decided on the sequence of yesterday's events? i felt thoroughly like Michael Henchard from Mayor of Casterbridge. Life's little ironies. It seemed as if someone was mocking me, apart from him of course. Someone held a feather-nibbed pen and drew out the plans of my yesterday, as if i were in a tragic tragic plot. I thought only situations like that would exist in a chinese drama serial. i was wrong.

Ambivalence hung in the sticky cool-warm air as i entered the beautiful park. As barriers were slowly broken, seemingly melted by the warming sun as a toaster that needed just ten minutes before food could be placed on the nicely wrapped silver tray, words were exchanged and it was evident that he was to be sarcastic, grim and bitter through the rest of the conversation. The skies darkened as the mood did. It was soon to rain. As if anticipating this, we cried. As he left in anger, the Heavens broke down with me; it poured. As if it were not apparent enough, a jet black swan had to waddle by at the lake i was looking across. talk about symbols and signs. Yesterday was really quite an episode. Im not being thorough in my description here i know; i mean it to be so; im tired of talking and thinking about it. The entire scene has made its run through at least seventy times now.

If you have to remain so: unforgiving(though you claim you have, but what is forgiveness without the willingness to work things out and the openess for reconcilliation?), and firm in your new found decision, then it shall be so. i have not the power to change your will. it is only you. and only God. A certain someone told me today that God can create miracles. id like to believe that so. it certainly is reassuring. perhaps its about time i did some serious thinking. A great change is to be anticipated. Let me not be foolish now.

posted by voyeur @ 12/12/2003 06:01:00 PM

"I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream-- i believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal-- to something finer, richer, than the Hellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. ", says Lord Henry in "The Picture of Dorian Gray".

posted by voyeur @ 12/12/2003 05:25:00 PM