Monday, October 03, 2005

Just Being

Tuesday, October 04, 2005
1:06:53 AM

How is it that it is more important that I sleep less and keep my bed done when we don’t know a thing about how big the Universe is or why it exists? The Ultimate Question seems to be less important than what I actually do or don’t. It’s not even funny, man.

I like to be untidy. No, no, I luuuvvvv to be untidy. Gives me more time to do all sorts of things. I don’t need to spend time in keeping things orderly. And there’s so much fun in finding out stuff, cos’ you know exactly where something is. The complex structure of untidiness reminds me of pre-impressionism, post-impressionism and everything in-between. There’s a certain sense of aesthetics which we can only see in the paintings of Van Gogh, although I don’t like his paintings much. He has a signature in the piece itself, which makes him so special. But I can’t take my eyes off Renoir’s perfection and Cézanne’s glowing details.

Just a while ago, my mom came in for inspection, thinking I was typing a love letter. Thanks heaven that I was only being assertive of my limited knowledge of Fine Arts. Anyway, I wouldn’t be typing a love letter, I would rather write one. What’s the charm in writing a love letter electronically? The depth, pressure and flow of handwriting as par your emotions are lost.

Am listening to Dylan Unplugged. I wish I could be like him. I wish I could be Dylan, Jim Morrison or Bob Marley, any one of them. Then I could curse anybody on the microphone and people would find it quite interesting, and even aesthetic. Plus I could be untidy without show-cause. I could travel from place to place, and read any book I wanted to. There are a few lines in Dylan’s “Simple Twist of Fate” that I often ponder:

People tell me it’s a sin
To think and feel too much within
I still believe she was my queen
But I lost the ring
She was born in the spring
But I, was born today!
Blame it on, a simple twist of fate

Watch the’s so lovely! Dylan is still alive, unlike Marley and Morrison. I wish I could meet him someday. I wish I met him accidentally, like I won’t even recognize him when I come across him, and he would simply chat on with me...and I would only know it’s him when we bid adieu to each other. I wish I was born in his time, and that he never knew Joan Baez.


The Absolutist said...

The Ultimate Question???!! What the heck is it???!! Never heard of it before! Dont think anybody's heard of it before! If they had they wud probably have found the answer. The Ultimate Question is 'What is the Ultimate Question?'. Its a recursive function so you wont get anywhere! Its a ploy by the hyperintelligent creator( read programmer) to never allow us to find the right path to all knowledge!!!

Euphoric Dreamer said...

"The complex structure of untidiness reminds me of pre-impressionism, post-impressionism and everything in-between."

*after pausing for few moments*

Hmmm ! seriously complex !

And absolutist :

recursion is nothing but a stack which the program forms by itself ! *ahem*
Ultimate question ! sounds interesting !

The Absolutist said...

oh Mr. Dreamer i dont talk about petty programs, i was talking about the absolute concept of recursion. Stacks and Queues dont concern me, i aim at a greater understanding of reality...

Delphic Oracle said... if i am starving to explain u all...the ultimate question is "Why does the Universe exist...or why do we all exist?" ...and the answer is not 42

Crazy Mongolian Monkeys said...

Sleeping is very important. So making beds is important so that you can sleep well.

About the ultimate questions that you have asked:
(i) We dont care.
(ii) We already have enough space
(iii) There is no point thinking why the universe exists because it already does.

The fact that you have read all the crap that i have written so far proves that you have absolutely nothing to do and is in complete denial regarding how pathetic your life really is.

excuse me but i am feeling a bit doped out.

. : A : . said...

Dylan is a master. And brilliant.

Euphoric Dreamer said...

reality is a recursive process :)

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