I just drew a picture of Schrödinger's Cat with a pencil. It soothes me — to write a line, to connect the dots without interruption. I think my brain feels it too. Everything is too fragmented, too split up. The digital music, the Bluetooth headphones — they are convenient, but we don't find the time to feel, constantly overwhelmed by information. So let's switch it off. Everything. And draw a line.
A line between you and me. A line between the world and me. A line between music and me. (And I am seriously considering buying an LP player and an iPod Classic. I'll see what suits me.)
Today I talked to a boy. I always have fun talking to him because he's very honest. Honest people can be, at times, pretty rough, but it's easier to build trust with them. Say what's on your mind. Let's keep it simple — then we won't have to guess. The endless guessing is tiring.
Say it! I want to see you.
Simple and nice. And it's nice to get to know each other, drawing a line, however frizzly it may seem. But the kind of relationship I care for is not one that involves money or sex, but real conversation. I like talking.
I mean, isn't that the most fun way to use language? To randomly connect words and make sense?
So I did just that, and somehow he was able to express himself. I smiled and said, "That was good," and he seemed surprised. What is futile in one language is considered great in another. Isn't that a mystery?
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