the thing with these films, even the ones with great dialogue and characters, like “her” – the thing is that they’re all inevitably coming from some or other vantage point of what’s good and not and what’s worthwhile and not – i mean they’re easy to spot, the values being propagated, the american stuff like: “it’s good to express yr emotions, to have adventures, excitement is good, so is spontaneity and sharing and talking a lot and saying everything you want to say and getting everything you want” and so on and so forth – that whole package of things of what’s a good way to behave…and in terms of the larger perspective it seems really shallow and superficial and almost arbitrarily silly…i mean in the context of samsara and ultimate values and what the mind is capable if…to be stuck here plugged into this…for how much longer can i keep it up? the pretence that this is important…maybe the nausea is growing for these ideals…
feels sometimes as if i’m living in the future…
knowing the weather from the norwegian site… can predict an afternoon nap… something stuck in my throat, a crumb from the past… story premise idea: guy forwards his diary to work address for printing from office. accidentally he sees he might have accidentally sent it to a colleague with whom he’s having difficulties, and in his diary he talks about her a lot and his personal anger at her etc or that she’s obsessing him.
then: in the moment of realising that he very nearly made the mistake (the beginning of their names is similar, so the auto fill option could have made it) a chill goes down his spine to think of what would have happened if he’d done that…but then he thinks, maybe he should do it anyway, as a purposeful accident…then she’ll see what he thinks of her and all about his personal life, but she’ll never be able to say anything about it, coz it would mean to confess that she’d read the document which was clearly sent accidentally… one could set this whole story up – like first begin with the accidental mails he sends to her for office printing, and her increasingly exasperated responses etc..then the story brews…some conflict at work, he writes of it in his diary, the sort of thing you wish somebody knew but you couldn’t tell them in a socially acceptable way… 1
swooning ,swooning…january third…2014...seeing my karmarpa in bodhgaya, and the music of leonine, tallis, byrd…glory…ethereal…here in this booklined room in africa…a thin telephone line frail connecting me to the universe…tired…sketchy…woken to a woman screaming “give me my money” out somewhere on the street…picnic with louise under the banana tree, melting cheese with the new rochlette, and icecream with nuts and bits of fruit…giving her a new poem found…this is the new year here…new things to be done…the lineages to honour…my self to overcome… |
Anton kruegerAt the end of every year I collect all the notes I've taken during that year and number them and print out one hard copy. ArchivesCategories
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