HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Saturday, November 03, 2007
dilemmas and thought experiments
i have been distracted by decisions to make. i am troubled by the things that were said to me in last night's phone call. we have to end this philosophical call now he said. i am being agitated the whole day.

sometimes im annoyed that some people have it all made, all planned, sometimes i envy them, sometimes i think they are asleep, other times i am happy for them, for their faith. then i think, what on earth does that mean? what does it mean that "youre all made?" that can't be true. so now that we have established and both you and me arent that different at all. i realise paths werent made, paths were found and earned.

ok, so i have a path, a bunch of paths i want to take. its far away. sometimes i feel i don't have enough time to find this path. this purposed "path," this overwhelming question.

i think ambition makes you insecure, ambition is a transgression of predestiny, it is a sign of not living in the present. ambitious people can't be very happy.

but what of the directive to work towards the future then? what does it mean when he said "go forth and multiply"?

is it a performative, is it a constative? i mean, if the offspring is definitely gonna be as numerous as the stars, then what's the point of issueing that directive? a label that says "directed by god"? but authority and directorship becomes fundamentally confusing. whose script is this? if there is already path, why bother? why bother do anything at all, really, why don't i just sleep all day? what of this problematic "go forth and multiply?"

if i have 4 years to learn everything i want, and another six afterwards, why bother to learn everything that has nothing to do with the six? i think of a beautiful boy who says, we can be in love for 4 years, in the fifth, i fly. am i to actively love that person, or do i walk away, saying, ah, but the fifth, the fifth. if i adopt that kind of mindset, i will never bother to actively love at all. and then, the boy who has touched breasts, they re-enter their lives, 6 years, 16 years, maybe sixty years, after that brief 6 seconds. they are composed as they arrange themselves together, in truth, they have become mad, incapable of living within old selves and former rhythms.

then i think again, that maybe time is not chronological. what does it matter, four years, six years, sixty years. four years can last forever, in truth, and 6 years, 60 years, 16 years, as brief as 6 seconds.

when he said, go forth and multiply, he carried in his voice the assuredness of the end, that yes, the offspring would be numerous as sand and stars.

how do we then interpret the initial despair? ostensibly that despair is mingled with hope, because the end is always in sight. with hope is action, because we are assured of not being broken, the obedience of the call to "go forth and multiply." isn't that fundamentally mean? to break someone down, make him completely ridden with insecurity so as to lead to the affirmation of faith it's like a bad parent.

the next logical step would be this. so if the parent is a bad upbringer, we have to forgive him, right? a mean parent doesnt warrant abandonment. the logic is strange fundamentally, "i turned into into a demon to save you, forgive me that i was a demon, but never forgive the intent."

the intent, to live with passion. thus the circle, miraculously almost, closed.

Comments:
Hey Dawn you write nice. Next time I catch you in Singapore I'll give you the ride I still owe you haha.

Reading your blog has brought back memories of the old Hwachong days and the litwing poetry (which I have disgracefully abandoned) and I remember the time my mind would classify as the emo-time writing poetry and meeting up in those little circles with the litwing people. Some of it sad, some of it happy, none of it simple.

Thanks for the memories.
hello, anthony. thanks for the lovely note. you got me thinking, that litwing doesn't need to be a memory. i have this crazy idea that perhaps we can figure out a way to revive it, maybe 5-6 years later if most of us are home and settled again. maybe:) it would be really strange, but i also think it would be lovely.
i also think some memories are hard to face, but when we face them often enough (like facing monsters), they're not that unbearable and even warrant some humor.
hey love. i think litwing should be revived! but not too late, in case some of us decide never to come home. maybe occasionally, in hols, and perhaps even online? i hope you are well, and happy, and that your dreams are good.


[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators

[people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel .

[other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc

[me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca.

[yesterday] remembering shandong
in the supermarket
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raspberry
the art of books
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i'm supposed to be writing a paper for modern danc...

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