the point

As I have read somewhere [wikiquote ?], long ago.

What you are saying would already have been said, what you are going to write would already have been written…. (or something to that effect)

In solidarity with all those me’s of the past, the nameless faceless me’s, I continue this persuit… writing this — trying to hack away at obscurity oblivion, though I may (ahh hope eternal) fail just like I did in the past, and just as propable as I failing in the future. A note hurriedly written, or a detailed journal — equally lost, equally forgotten.

Trying to leave my meames behind, oh vanity thy name is me.

This is to the me’s of the future…. let us keep the pretense that it all matters. For otherwise life would be just a waste of time.

Now that I speak about time… I hate the linearity of time the constant flow is so boring. As they say there is no information in the truly predictable, and time is the most predictable of all. I wish I could move all over time — that is what I like the most about fiction, the jarring jolts, in time — I wish I had a time machine.

caught in a time warp

I feel like I am caught in a time warp. Some-time in the last decade, between 1998-2006 somewhere. I count back time, internally from somewhere in between. Came to light when I said “that was 1995 ~ 10 years ago” and other such statements repeatedly.

Am I getting old? — I am not ‘thaat’ old, looking forward to my 25th birthday. But somehow, I can feel the generation gap starting off. Or is this time-paranoia (is there such a word?) or something, I do not know…

Does time freeze somewhere about your early 20’s? Fossilising you in the frozen mass? Everything after that is slightly dis-associative. The stuff that we enjoy (blogs, company…) are of the same frozen batch? A collective frozen in time and thinking?

Vaguely depressing…