April 17th, 2022
2022-04-17 ○ last updated: 2022-05-08 ○ topics: journal, impermanenceI forgot to recount in my previous entry an encounter that I had on that day while walking back to the Christopher Street station. This commute takes me on a lovely walk through Washington Square Park, and consequentially feeds my voyeuristic compulsion for people-watching. That day, however, I wasn’t in my usual mood to peer into the casual intimacies of park-peoples — I was wrapped up in lament, and tred through the park with careful footsteps and likely a somber expression. But even in my mindlessness, I happened to lock eyes with a girl leaning up against the backrest of a park bench. Tight black coils bounced from her head, and a fitted army-green top with short sleeves and loose black jeans dressed her small frame. With her left hand and a bent elbow she held a up a smoking joint. When our gazes met, a slight smile bloomed on her lips, her free hand shot up into the air, and she gave me a tiny yet eager wave. Although small, her gesture was imbued with the intimacy of a dear…
April 14th, 2022
2022-04-14 ○ last updated: 2022-05-06 ○ topics: journal, youth, habituation, attention, cognitive dissonance, alice in wonderlandI was walking from the Christopher Street station to the gym this morning when I came across a parade of children being chaperoned to school by their parents. I began to daydream about being their age, if only for a day, if for nothing else than to relinquish myself of the overbearing weight of self-knowledge and consciousness. Living in oblivion sounded quite appealing at the time. But in a moment of clarity and foresightedness, I caught my wistful thinking as it was tumbling towards self-indulgence: I thought of a scenario in which, in twenty years time, I may very well be crossing the path of someone my own age (a ripe twenty-two) on the street. What if I were to think in that moment, “I wish I could be that age once more, to enjoy the frivolousness and levity that accompanies young adulthood”? How foolish would I be then? Better not to wist, and to instead wist. A conundrum that I am contemplating today is the problem of habituation with respect to eating food. It’s an unfortunate…
April 13th, 2022
2022-04-13 ○ last updated: 2022-04-13 ○ topics: journal, dreamsI had a strange dream last night. Well, in actuality, it was a multitude of dreams, but this particular one disturbed me. I only recall a single grotesque fragment of it. Someone was cooking a gargantuan purple fish on a gas stove. Its jaundiced, bulging eyes protruded from its head and its body was covered in yellowed spikes. Most nauseatingly, its mouth was stuffed with tentacles, colored with the same purple hue and littered with the same spikes as were on the rest of the body. The person cooking the fish looked at me and then grabbed ahold of the tentacles and twisted them loose from the fish’s mouth. He said, “Here, I know you like this part” (of the fish) and laid the writhing mass on my plate. That was all I remember. But when I woke up, I was extremely repulsed. I have my suspicions regarding the origin of this dream in my subconscious, which is why I decided to record it. Earlier this week, I bought some oxtails to make my favorite Korean comfort dish: ggori-gomtang. I don’t…
April 10th, 2022
2022-04-10 ○ last updated: 2022-04-10 ○ topics: journal, cognition, loneliness, uncertaintyI wonder if birds ever feel despair as us humans do. Do they experience loneliness? Is there ever a moment in a bird’s lifetime when they feel outcast by their fellow feathered folk and they can’t find a single thing — nary a single branch — in this world to lean or rest upon? What do they do in those moments? How do they go on? Or are they contented with searching the skies for yet another seed to peck at? This notion sounds ridiculous, but I wonder if our experiences (birds, humans) are more similar than one may initially imagine. This morning, I saw a female sparrow (well, they aren’t really sparrows, but I’ve forgotten the correct name for them) nip at the feathers of a male, vying for his attention. A bird’s equivalent of flirtatious pursuit, I presume. It made me dream about the microcosm of the bird’s love life — on their scale, are there gestures as subtle as a blush, a stolen glance, or a light caress on another’s shoulders? Do they exist, only to be imperceptible to the naïve…