Digging for Meaning

" Goldenes-Zeitalter-1530-2 " by Lucas Cranach the Elder - Unknown. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons. All our acts, our thoughts, our conversations are steps towards the ideal world we want to live in. Isn't it? Consciously or sub consciously. Actively or passively. Violently or placidly. Everything is in service of our dream worlds. someone litters the roads because in his ideal world, everything is available at arm's length and the world revolves around him/her. Another person who sees this and shouts obscenities to the litterer, views his ideal world as clean and one where individuals are aware of their duties, not just their rights and entitlements. another, person who sees these two individuals mid-banter, rolls his eyes and windows and speeds away, wants his world to be free of arguments, he wants his world to be wholly agreeable and sanguine. Kundera's Ostriches   A group of ostriches are trying to tell you something. moving the...

I am reading Kudera's 'Immortality'. (and for the first time, I am pissed off with his writing. it seems to be too whimsical - paul, laura, goethe, bettina, laura, ruben! where the fuck did he come from? where's immortality now? where did goethe go? wh y did her death c o me after Paul's life after her death? multiple strands woven together irregularly, whimsically. this book is almost a " modern art " (said disdainfully) with its whimsical (but intelligent) movements playing in a private symphony without a thought to audience's public nature. ) Anywa y, Kundera makes a beautiful revelation (as he always does ) ab out laughte r ( surprisin gly in this book. instead of his ' laughter and forgetting ' . perhaps a post scri pt - a draft piece that had to find a place 'somewhere '. )  He compares modern photographic images to classical paintings and sculptures - the key difference illuminated here being that of the countenance...

Right now my whole being feels like a pastiche of a million poetries. thoughts have melted into curving, dripping, flowing ideas. i close my eyes and it feels like i am dancing.. moving with the breeze... waltzing with dry leaves. levitated. light. i am listening to Il postino's soundtrack which has neruda's poetry. and its making me yearn to read some kundera all over again. maybe, i will read laughable loves once more. its worth it at any rate. sleep, i have found a substitute for you. good night.