clap your hands, move your feet
Oct. 4th, 2010 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deliriousNope, still have not acquired a tumblr.
Saying that all things have their origins (I really should finish reading the psychoanalysis book, but I think I may have misplaced it after coming back from LA) would be like saying that everything that happens needs to have a reason. Most things do have a reason, but you necessarily have to know the reason, and the reason for it is that everything has it's time. This may not necessarily make sense, but I wonder if there's a point in idealism where it blurs into cynicism? Or rather, is cynicism the flipside of idealism, and realism is a subset of cynicism and idealism. You can't have one without the other.
I think the starbucks barista on south university who took my order was high on something. I don't think I'm a fun person to tease or flirt with, mostly because I give logical answers and deadpan faces in response. Probably the defensive streak showing, but just what do you want me to do? When you get in the way of me and coffee I don't give a fuck.
The other night the weather was damp and comfortably chilly with a jacket on, and I was walking to meet Di at Espresso Royale when I thought to myself: I crave a cigarette.
Rather, I craved the idea of a cigarette and the emotions associated with smoking - tinged with sweet vodka and the warm presence of friendship. I don't crave a cigarette because I'm stressed, angry or sad and need a distraction, nor do I crave the biochemical pleasure that nicotine provides. The latter may or may not be a lie because brain chemistry is awesome, but mostly I'm entertained by the situations in which I find myself wanting. Most of them involve alcohol and it's the nature of the vice to lower your inhibitions. Almost all of them involve nostalgia and the quiet cool of the night.
I'll admit to wanting a cigarette, or rather, several cigarettes while I was alone in LA, just because I was nervous, anxious, angry with the place I was in and generally in a 'bitch, please' state of mind. I wanted so badly to have something to with my with my hands, my mouth, anything just to calm the fuck down because I was ready to run my mouth off over any little thing. I probably ended up getting some coffee and planned a two hour bus trip into the suburbs of LA to meet kon, but I am not quite sure. I've never wanted in the same way since then, and now that I've put my angry music on my iPhone I think I deal better.
I forgot what else I wanted to say, but that's okay.
Saying that all things have their origins (I really should finish reading the psychoanalysis book, but I think I may have misplaced it after coming back from LA) would be like saying that everything that happens needs to have a reason. Most things do have a reason, but you necessarily have to know the reason, and the reason for it is that everything has it's time. This may not necessarily make sense, but I wonder if there's a point in idealism where it blurs into cynicism? Or rather, is cynicism the flipside of idealism, and realism is a subset of cynicism and idealism. You can't have one without the other.
I think the starbucks barista on south university who took my order was high on something. I don't think I'm a fun person to tease or flirt with, mostly because I give logical answers and deadpan faces in response. Probably the defensive streak showing, but just what do you want me to do? When you get in the way of me and coffee I don't give a fuck.
The other night the weather was damp and comfortably chilly with a jacket on, and I was walking to meet Di at Espresso Royale when I thought to myself: I crave a cigarette.
Rather, I craved the idea of a cigarette and the emotions associated with smoking - tinged with sweet vodka and the warm presence of friendship. I don't crave a cigarette because I'm stressed, angry or sad and need a distraction, nor do I crave the biochemical pleasure that nicotine provides. The latter may or may not be a lie because brain chemistry is awesome, but mostly I'm entertained by the situations in which I find myself wanting. Most of them involve alcohol and it's the nature of the vice to lower your inhibitions. Almost all of them involve nostalgia and the quiet cool of the night.
I'll admit to wanting a cigarette, or rather, several cigarettes while I was alone in LA, just because I was nervous, anxious, angry with the place I was in and generally in a 'bitch, please' state of mind. I wanted so badly to have something to with my with my hands, my mouth, anything just to calm the fuck down because I was ready to run my mouth off over any little thing. I probably ended up getting some coffee and planned a two hour bus trip into the suburbs of LA to meet kon, but I am not quite sure. I've never wanted in the same way since then, and now that I've put my angry music on my iPhone I think I deal better.
I forgot what else I wanted to say, but that's okay.
