Lessons Learned

Monday, Apr. 15, 2002 ~ 12:33 AM

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I just wanna show you the way that I feel.

(singing) Watchin' X-Files with no lights on. We're dans la mainson. I hope the Smoking Man's in this one.

Tonight while watching the X-Files I came to a very important revelation about an underlying message of the show. [insert drum-roll here] Kids are evil. No seriously just about every episode of the show (that I�ve seen) that features children features them at antagonists. And just think about it.. even Scully�s baby isn�t quite right.

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The Princess Bride, Lesson One: True love is throwing yourself down the side of a very large hill.

As.
You.
Wish.

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I am in an odd mood. It�s a bit of that same pulling feeling that you get when missing someone, but I don�t consciously miss anyone. I feel alternately restless and anxious but not in the �I�m jumping out of my skin� sort of way.

I hear music that I can�t sing. I think poems that I can�t write.

I got this trapped in my head.

In their hands the sand of time was passing slowly. They carried enormous rusty keys to open gates which divided the city. The palm leaves were waving, gently content, and the city lay like a carpet under contemplative feet. I was awakened by a sound of paper unrolling. My feet were treading paper. They were the streets of my own diary, crossed with bars of black notes. Serpentines of walls without doorways, desires without issues. I was lost in the labyrinth of my confessions, among the veiled faces of my acts unveiled only in the diary. I heard the evening prayer, the cry of solitude recurring every night. My feet touched the leaves of intricate flowers shriveling, paper flowers veined with the nerves of instruments. Enormous rusty keys opened each volume, and the figures passed armless, headless, mutilated. The white orifice of the endless cave opened. On the rim of it stood a girl eleven years old carrying the diary in a little basket.
�Labyrinth� from Under a Glass Bell, Anais Nin

I wonder what Anais would think of our little Diaryland. Some part of me thinks that she would not like it. It�s not a secret if it�s online and she was quite a fan of keeping certain secrets. She was quite a fan of losing herself between the pages, the only traces of her journeys, black serpentine lines in her diary. Would she be able to do so amongst the ones and zeros of the internet? Anais, with her flair for theatricality? I wonder.

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Gypsy - Wednesday, Sept. 24, 2003 - 8:44 AM

I'm no Artemis. - Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2003 - 8:19 AM

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