I crossed the Pacific ocean to get here, but I didn't have to swim. That's a relief. Does it even matter that it's so big? If I could fly back for 21 cents in 21 minutes, would there be any significance to being so far away from home? Toronto will always be home, at core, but I don't know if I'll live there for the rest of my days, may they be long. I bless myself. But I don't bless myself when I sneeze, because my superstition doesn't go that far. I'd feel naked without it though.
You ever notice how a conversation can be toneless or toned (or tony) on instant messenger, but it'll have a different feeling, a totally different spin in person? That's because sometimes I do want to talk to people, but I don't feel like face to face talking. It's freedom from the tyranny of the expression. I like to be able to have a face of concentration or confusion without someone thinking "what's he mean by that?". I'm tired. Hence this ludicrous antisocial rant, which is attempting to salvage itself by claiming a place for written conversations. Well, if you think about it people used to communicate over long distances by letter all the time. And written letters - epistles - were far more cogent than the careless conversations we have these days. People wrote down a sequence of ideas that moved in some direction, maybe not a conclusion, but at least it was long. There's something to be said for continuing for a while. An idea can form given enough space.
That's enough space, I say! On to the next idea. Chestnuts. I've been eating roasted, salted chestnuts. That's a thing people eat here, much like a bag of pretzels back home. I can't say I love them, nor can I say I hate them. They're growing on me. Their taste is growing on me, not the chestnuts. Chestnuts, however, are hardly an idea. It's random like my conversations. Why do people find random conversations so disturbing? And yet many people like them too.
Hmm. I'm afraid this entry is not too concrete. But I really didn't feel like writing a concrete entry today. So that's it.
Monday, October 04, 2004
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