Knowing what I want. That is a golden luxury. I don’t know much about myself. I’m like a
Knowing what I want. That is a golden luxury. I don’t know much about myself. I’m like an observer, watching on a blurry monitor. I surprise myself all the time. I’ll be in a mood, and want to go home, and not know why. I’ll dream of a restful afternoon… and then get what I want, and be restless and hollow, somehow both tired and anxious at once. I’ll adore someone, and then for no reason, find them frustrating. And something in me is watching that and saying ‘Jed, why are you being a little bitch? Quit that.’ So what is the real me? The watcher, or the actor? . I was walking down the street with @jordanfatke yesterday whistling. I said 'Jordan, think about whistling. I have no idea how my lips are making these tiny movements to change notes, to hit the exact note of the next part of the Mario theme song. The movement is so tiny I can’t even imagine it, and yet my lip muscles know what to do.’ And then we were like 'I have no idea how I’m walking right now. I don’t know how my legs are moving. They just are.’ We were laughing at our ignorance. At the miracle of being alive and able to move and do things. . When a word is on the tip of your tongue. You go on about your business with that uneasy feeling. Then, fully occupied by something else, the word leaps to your lips. What?! Who was digging through the file cabinets? . Something that is us is watching our body move, hunger, twitch and change. I feel my best when I forget myself, my body, my existence. I am just a weed in the field, loving the breeze and eating the sun. I don’t know what I am. . : @zachfack -- source link
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