i'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. a book about life and art and their indistinguishableness. their subtle mingling. we're all making it up as we go along. "Being natural is simply a pose." all the world is a stage.
and nobody notices. i mean they all play along. they are perhaps ignorant young people themselves. or too caught up in themselves to discern the great inadequacies filling my mind. likewise i'm overthrown with wonder at the things i do not yet understand. the glamour of graphic design. the excitement of all those small, stylish internet startups. the passion of being well known for creative power. it's all so exotic. it seems to me this way because i stand outside of it.
it's easy to admire things from far away. without scrutiny the flaws aren't there. the scratches on the glass can't be seen. the dirt on your carpet is less than a shadow. being admired from up close is harder. the tremor in your voice is more obvious. the fraying of your sleeve is so noticeable.
"It is dangerous to press upon a man the duty of getting beyond earthly love when his real difficulty lies in getting so far." C. S. Lewisso what is there to know? what is there to love? being an ignorant young person i don't quite know how to answer these questions. in what meager experience i've had, you think you know a person. you fall into a muddy sort of love. but nothing is very solid. nothing to put your fingers on. maybe all there is is the give and take between you and me. the uncertainty principle. the flexibly constructed soup of sensations and emotions we climb around in every day. looking up, looking down. at. through. along.
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