Thursday, May 24, 2007

Fact may not be truth, and truth may not be factual.

I finished reading the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. I'm not sure if there is any need to say this, but I was amazed. Surrealism, or more accurately: Modern Surrealism, isn't something that i've explored too much in literature, save for the essential Kafka novels, and I don't know why not. There is so much depth in the ambiguous relationships between the images the novel evokes. I'm going to be having dreams about this one for awhile i'm sure. Looking forward to reading more into Murakami, and similarily, exploring surrealism more. He's sparked my intrest in what I have a feeling will be a beautiful friendship.

I've been thinking a lot about this concept of truth. What's "real" or what's "fact" may not be what is truth. Reading the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, It seemed that it made that distinction between reality and truth really well.

I bought myself a new pack of cigarettes and a copy of Infinite Jest, I've got the next few days off, and plan on immersing myself in it.

Two instances in the past week which I felt had a particular resonance of reality. An honest representation of human nature. These are the facts, and you are to find your own truth in them

Factual Retelling of an Instance Which Exemplifies an Aspect of Human Nature: A
Sitting at the park. Lit by a crescent moon and fountain lights. J., R. and myself are getting high when the sketchy park regulars, previously practising pink floyd covers on acoustic guitars, have now started yelling. We think they are tripping balls. Jean Jacket freaks out and threatens to smash a guitar on the pavement, this is all in french so everything wass lost in translation. The owner of the guitar is unknown, but Jean Jacket chips it pretty good swinging it around. It escalates when Jean Jacket is thrown into the fountain by T Shirt. In the midst of the confusion that ensues, Bandana takes off with the guitar and hides it in the adjacent bushes. Jean Jacket is soaked and angry, but he still refuses to fight, despite further instigation by T Shirt. Bandana disarms the situation. Poor Jean Jacket, bad trip. We never discerned what the fight was about. The crescent moon kept glowing. Later that evening Jack Black smashed his acoustic guitar on our television.

Factual Retelling of an Instance Which Exemplifies an Aspect of Human Nature: B
Sunday night. Korova. J., R. have left early but I wasn't ready to call it a night just yet, having been staying home for several nights previous. Became more aquainted to A. while, like a dream, more people than i've ever seen inside Korova show up. They are dancing. M. is dj'ing so it's pretty groovy. Once I get myself on the dancefloor the most beautiful girl in the world shows up, L. That kind of girl you have a crush on from afar because there's no way she'd be in your league. The kind you dream, albeit involuntarily, about. She's a dancer so she's dancing circles, quite literally around everyone. Then, much to my suprise, she's dancing with me. I felt scared and exited all at once, shaking knees and everyhthing. L. remembers me from a brief meeting a month prior. Her lips brush against mine and hands are against waists. She tells me she's going to the bathroom and to wait a minute. But when I turn around she's really into kissing this other guy. She's wearing his hat. I dismiss this as mere "getting wild" and things are cool. The whole process repeats itself, and now everyone is too drunk to give any weight or meaning to actions. I go home and am incapable of dreaming of anything else.

Champagne straight out of the bottle. Ghost riding the whip. Hella Trees.

UGK - Ridin' Dirty

Note: Not to be confused with Chamillionaire's 2006 single of a similar nature.

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