There's a Simone Weil quote I've always been soothed by, which vibes with an idea here, about the infinite amalgamations of the self: "I am other than what I imagine myself to be. To know this is forgiveness,” Weil writes.
I find this notion consoling: to imagine that my self, or my soul (that bothersome glowing orb that is always following me around) contains not only what I currently am but also everything that I am not. Every moment is a chance to be other--another or some other self--even and especially if I'm feeling bedraggled.
I'm rereading Drown after many years (it's still good by the way) y para que lo sepa, all your books have been gems for me and given me all kinds of signs. So keep writing to yourself and your five friends and the other 9 million will find you. And remember, the DR is most likely a portal to Mars.
I write autobiographically, and I absolutely have to write for another in order to write it- if I write for myself- then it’s a self-referential hodgepodge of private jokes and indulgence. I have to imagine an Other to articulate myself to otherwise the effort of exiting the mirror just doesn’t happen. If it’s a best friend, it’s lower pressure but I also know they’ll be kind and allow me some slips. If it’s someone hostile then it’s paralyzing. Maybe I do my best when writing for crushes. I think the question lies in the ‘for’ - is it ‘for’ as in ‘a gift for you’ or is it for as in towards? It might all be for me ultimately but not without ricocheting on others first. Like a boomerang maybe 😉
Hey Junot, your reflection got me started on this short exercise. Cheers man.
1991. Four years of secondary school and October passes like a storm cloud. Exams finish and we do whatever we want. Halim and I play football every day with older boys along the void deck. He weaves past players like an eel swimming in oil. I wait for his pass and drop my shoulder to confuse the defender. I take a shot at goal, see the ball slide pass the keeper. We celebrate like Fandi and Sundram. A little league we have going until Halim slams into this old lady returning home from the market with two bags of groceries. The cuts of pork and vegetables spill all over the ground. My foot squashes over a rolling tomato, red juice exploding everywhere. Someone yells police and we split. We lie low for weeks. Days go by and we go looking for action around our estate but we end up with nothing. We laze around all day listening to 98.7. We watch the sky pull across the sky like a roof. And one year ends, another begins. Some of our friends go to JC for three months. Victor and Arul make it to Raffles, the only ones in our school to do so. Halim makes up his mind about studying engineering in Poly even before sitting for ‘O’-Levels but I have no idea what to do.
There's a Simone Weil quote I've always been soothed by, which vibes with an idea here, about the infinite amalgamations of the self: "I am other than what I imagine myself to be. To know this is forgiveness,” Weil writes.
I find this notion consoling: to imagine that my self, or my soul (that bothersome glowing orb that is always following me around) contains not only what I currently am but also everything that I am not. Every moment is a chance to be other--another or some other self--even and especially if I'm feeling bedraggled.
Have a fine Saturday evening, world!
thank you for this swell quote. reminds me of guevara's quote (was it from the Motorcycle Diaries?): “I am not the person I once was."
I'm rereading Drown after many years (it's still good by the way) y para que lo sepa, all your books have been gems for me and given me all kinds of signs. So keep writing to yourself and your five friends and the other 9 million will find you. And remember, the DR is most likely a portal to Mars.
thank you stephanie... let's hope youre right.
I write autobiographically, and I absolutely have to write for another in order to write it- if I write for myself- then it’s a self-referential hodgepodge of private jokes and indulgence. I have to imagine an Other to articulate myself to otherwise the effort of exiting the mirror just doesn’t happen. If it’s a best friend, it’s lower pressure but I also know they’ll be kind and allow me some slips. If it’s someone hostile then it’s paralyzing. Maybe I do my best when writing for crushes. I think the question lies in the ‘for’ - is it ‘for’ as in ‘a gift for you’ or is it for as in towards? It might all be for me ultimately but not without ricocheting on others first. Like a boomerang maybe 😉
Have you ever read _The Mind's I_ by Doug Hofstader and Daniel Dennett? The quote could be from there, or inspired by it.
i have not. but will investigate! thank you!
Hey Junot, your reflection got me started on this short exercise. Cheers man.
1991. Four years of secondary school and October passes like a storm cloud. Exams finish and we do whatever we want. Halim and I play football every day with older boys along the void deck. He weaves past players like an eel swimming in oil. I wait for his pass and drop my shoulder to confuse the defender. I take a shot at goal, see the ball slide pass the keeper. We celebrate like Fandi and Sundram. A little league we have going until Halim slams into this old lady returning home from the market with two bags of groceries. The cuts of pork and vegetables spill all over the ground. My foot squashes over a rolling tomato, red juice exploding everywhere. Someone yells police and we split. We lie low for weeks. Days go by and we go looking for action around our estate but we end up with nothing. We laze around all day listening to 98.7. We watch the sky pull across the sky like a roof. And one year ends, another begins. Some of our friends go to JC for three months. Victor and Arul make it to Raffles, the only ones in our school to do so. Halim makes up his mind about studying engineering in Poly even before sitting for ‘O’-Levels but I have no idea what to do.