to you i am a stranger
always a phone call or letter away
from another letdown
always a phone call or letter away
from another letdown
and this is how reception of music can cause a blog-overflow. hey, it's me again. it's just inevitable when i'm up here with no nightwalk partners to share my nightly reflective tracks. ---
--- and i had to make a break to write a chapter for the novel i'm trying to materialize out of my mindmazes. and yet this rasmus kellerman song appearing exactly tonight. right when i've finished de mello's book touching a similar topic and having a bunch occupying thoughts around it. this day seems to be pretty much destined to pass under the sign of wondering around who we are to each other, how we exist in time, what our relations are in the depersonalized societies, cyber identities, imaginary lives of today.
and do we exist without our names? consider it carefully, it's not that obvious. can you say you know a person not knowing their real name?
how can one not feel lonely in a world of this kind?
further. what's communication about? in the flesh. i get this impression we no longer communicate who we are but who others want us to be, who would make them happy, who would make them like us, love us, make us feel better and belonging somewhere. is this communication based on projections of beings? if so, it would mean we communicate our coats, leaving the soft, warm body underneath undiscovered. we make it sleep, become a semi-existing life and let the fancy outer shell play the part. how is it to be worn by the clothes you chose yourself and paid for them?
hello you flicker on the other side of the screen. who's playing alice tonight? what will you give me? your hand or your glove?
--- and i had to make a break to write a chapter for the novel i'm trying to materialize out of my mindmazes. and yet this rasmus kellerman song appearing exactly tonight. right when i've finished de mello's book touching a similar topic and having a bunch occupying thoughts around it. this day seems to be pretty much destined to pass under the sign of wondering around who we are to each other, how we exist in time, what our relations are in the depersonalized societies, cyber identities, imaginary lives of today.
and do we exist without our names? consider it carefully, it's not that obvious. can you say you know a person not knowing their real name?
how can one not feel lonely in a world of this kind?
further. what's communication about? in the flesh. i get this impression we no longer communicate who we are but who others want us to be, who would make them happy, who would make them like us, love us, make us feel better and belonging somewhere. is this communication based on projections of beings? if so, it would mean we communicate our coats, leaving the soft, warm body underneath undiscovered. we make it sleep, become a semi-existing life and let the fancy outer shell play the part. how is it to be worn by the clothes you chose yourself and paid for them?
hello you flicker on the other side of the screen. who's playing alice tonight? what will you give me? your hand or your glove?
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