bananafoot

I’m working through the funk and boredom of being back here. Though I’m still sleeping odd hours; 4 here, 4 there; I’m grasping for vices less often: smoking, chewing gum, processed food, sugar, drinking, etc… Maybe this isn’t true… but I really have no worries or reasons to be stressed, because everything seems to be working out just fine. I do however need a job, to cure both perceived and actual lack of funds.

Life has been slightly interesting though lately.

I watched Julie & Julia. Will someone please inform me when it comes out on DVD. I need Meryl Streep screaming “Paul” repeatedly as my answering machine.

I was treated to Homemade Cream of Broccoli soup for lunch and Homemade Chili for dinner.

I had a 16 year old tell me I wasn’t 18 in response to my request for cigarettes. Good thing she knows the legal age, and I had my ID.

I enjoyed a good old fashioned sharpie fight, fire throwing competition, and a midnight Timmies coffee run.

I saw my first welcome back to PG robbery last night at Blockbuster. Employees got a bit banged up, and the perpetrator got away with almost all of his loot. We rented Dirty Love and Grey Gardens, and watched them after a field trip to the park.

We wished on stars as it was the Perseid meteor shower… Which reminds me. I was published in the local newspaper. My photos of the northern lights. They didn’t translate to newspaper very well, but perhaps I will scan it and put it up here anyways…

The summer seems to be over. No sun, plenty rain, and seeing breath at night…

…why am I back here?

Okay,

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. But in all fairness, my life has been a little too busy to bother. It hasn’t necessarily been the most exciting life, but who the fuck blogs when they’re still in the middle of the action? Blogging, is for the bored, the single, and the depressed.

As it would happen I am bored, single and even a little depressed. I can’t stop listening to my boys Murray Head and Gerry Rafferty. It rained all day. It started Sunday evening, and though it was beautiful to begin with, perhaps even dangerous (good old weather network extreme weather warnings); it’s become cold, blue depression. Yes, I’m back in Prince George after months of tree planting and quite the stint in Victoria. I miss my life there, before I was me, before they became they, and those who are, intruded. I arrived at 155 pounds, and left at 133. How many lines, pills and drops does it take to inflict permanent damage?

完ぺきな男. I am not

I am separated from all that makes me feel good and alive. People, places, things. Which has made me waste countless hours pondering about such things as, “What is love?”

This question brought me to the following philosophical examination by Jacques Derrida On Love and Being:

“Love is a question of who and what. Is love the love of someone or the love of something?

Suppose I love someone, do I love someone for the absolute singularity of who they are? I love you because you are you. Or do I love your qualities, your beauty, your intelligence?

Does one love someone, or does one love something about someone? The difference between the who and the what at the heart of love, separates the heart. It is often said that love is the movement of the heart. Does my heart move because I love someone who is an absolute singularity, or because I love the way that someone is?

Often love begins with a type of seduction. One is attracted because the other is like this or like that. Inversely, love is disappointed and dies when one comes to realise the other person doesn’t merit our love. The other person isn’t like this or that. So at the death of love, it appears that one stops loving another not because of who they are but because they are such and such.

That is to say, the history of love, the heart of love, is divided between the who and the what. The question of Being is divided into what is it ‘to Be’? What is ‘Being’? The question of ‘Being’ is itself always already divided between who and what. Is ‘Being’ someone or something? I speak of it abstractly, but I think that whoever starts to love, is in love, or stops loving, is caught between this division of the who and the what. One wants to be true to someone – singularly, irreplaceably – and one perceives that this someone isn’t x or y. They didn’t have the qualities, properties, the images, that I thought I’d loved. So fidelity is threatened by the difference between the who and the what. “

I move into my new place on the 15th, which is pleasant. I have spent much time deciding on where I should settle for the next year. Prince George seems like a good hub. I have quick access by plane anywhere in the world, great job prospects outside the customer service world, and I should be able to save money with the cheaper cost of living and the inaccessibility of recreational drugs. There are drawbacks. Everyone I want to be around isn’t here, with three major exceptions. However even exceptions have conditions, and until I feel settled I will continue to have no idea why I am back here. It’s the right thing. Right?

I should have fun here. I won’t be able to party, offend, or deconstruct, so I should be able to create, digest, and mature. I’m young and narcissistic so I know that I will be fine…