kundera

i love this writer.

from my first experience with him - the unbearable lightness of being - to my current literary foray - immortality - i've been completely enamored with his gift for creating thoroughly engaging, complex, multi-dimensional characters while expressing truths inherent in the human condition. i'm not suggesting that he's unique in that aspect, i'm just saying that i'm enamored with the way he does it...

a quote from immortality contrasting paths to highways:

"before paths disappeared from the landscape, they had disappeared from the human soul: man stopped wanting to walk, to walk on his own feet and to enjoy it. what's more, he no longer saw his own life as a path, but as a highway: a line that led from one point to another, from the rank of captain to the rank of general, from the role of wife to the role of widow. time became a mere obstacle to life, an obstacle that had to be overcome by ever greater speed."

and more than most, american culture is a culture of highways.

he goes on to write:

"a path is a tribute to space. every stretch of path has meaning in itself and invites us to stop. a highway is the triumphant devaluation of space, which thanks to it has been reduced to a mere obstacle to human movement and a waste of time."

we choose to live our lives as paths or highways. living in the present, seeking beauty in the everyday occurrence, or living in the past and the future, one's eyes forever on the next 'destination.'

the thing about highways is, accidents happen all the time.

nope. not dead. yet...

...although i've been incapacitated with the flu and bronchitis for the last three days. sure, that doesn't explain the last three months, but, ya know, what's a guy to do?

so, i'm back with a vengeance and i'm gonna knock you dead with some pearls! of wisdom!

psych.

no pearls here. just some ramblings. from some guy. stoned.

i think this is the first time i'm blogging from my new place. finally left that roomie situation i'd been in for the last year and a half. not that my roomie was a bad guy, he wasn't. living with him a year and a half is a testament to that. even at the height of my engagement in the midst of my youthful optimism and exuberance, i had only lived with my fiance for a year and little bit.

not that she was a bad gal. she wasn't.

i've lived alone for most of my adult life. gotta say i love it. every once in a while a woman will come along that i love more than my solitude, but my solitude eventually reestablishes dominance. i don't know about most people, but i need solitude to think. to grow. distractions make it easy to not grow.

god. and this city, this monstrous apple of a city has more than its fair share - than a couple cities' fair share - of distractions. people, events, happenings, incidents, things, toys. too many things. for me, at least.

i'm finding it incredibly hard to focus on myself, my growth, when confronted with the smorgasbord of goodies to engage in daily. hourly. right-the-fuck now.

sure, a central issue with me is my lack of discipline. i guess one could say...lack of commitment. surprise!

lacking a penchant for discipline and commitment make it next to impossible to forgo the goodies of this urbanized amazon and, instead, turn the gaze inward.

it's like i have spiritual adhd.

gotta get me some ritalin for the soul.

have any?