The desire for Communication: the reason I claw my skin at night. But throughout the daylight hours, I am curiously silent. So fucking detached, I cannot find an interpretive community. I felt real wistful when I read that Herman Melville was so giddyglad to know that Ralph Waldo Emerson appreciated Moby Dick. Melville felt that Emerson understood everything that Melville was trying to convey when writing that long book.
Never underestimate the soulorgasm that occurs when you realize that someone else shares the same interpretive lens as you. I want a pen-pal who understands my poorly-constructed words. Don't we ALL? We sigh romantically when songs and movies supply us with the hope that TRUE LOVE WILL FIND US IN THE END! We are bombarded with images of an everlasting love, an everlasting love that denies the borders separating human souls. We fall for the popular discourses on love. How can we not? It sounds so pretty to belong, to have a space within the crushoftime. To forget our meaninglessness within the broader universal landscape, we must construct our little Babel of love, we clamor for pure communication. But maybe everything is lost in translation, lost in the troubling space of hermeneutics. Maybe love is a naive idea. Nonetheless, I am enchanted by the idea. Just like everyone else, I want someone to fall in love with me and know me as I am.
Never underestimate the soulorgasm that occurs when you realize that someone else shares the same interpretive lens as you. I want a pen-pal who understands my poorly-constructed words. Don't we ALL? We sigh romantically when songs and movies supply us with the hope that TRUE LOVE WILL FIND US IN THE END! We are bombarded with images of an everlasting love, an everlasting love that denies the borders separating human souls. We fall for the popular discourses on love. How can we not? It sounds so pretty to belong, to have a space within the crushoftime. To forget our meaninglessness within the broader universal landscape, we must construct our little Babel of love, we clamor for pure communication. But maybe everything is lost in translation, lost in the troubling space of hermeneutics. Maybe love is a naive idea. Nonetheless, I am enchanted by the idea. Just like everyone else, I want someone to fall in love with me and know me as I am.
9/20/2010
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