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2/25/07

10:40 AM Words don’t seem instrinsic to man. I mean, when we’re born we have our five senses. In terms of art I would say we’re innately predisposed to appreciating and creating pictures (sight), music (sound), and the fragrant and the culinary (smell and taste).

Language develops later on – which isn’t to say it’s any less rudimentary than the other media – so to me it seems less intuitive how it becomes a natural way of thinking and being. I feel half complete in the other arts: able to appreciate art and music but not capable of contributing anything original.

Words, however, are a whole another mode for me. I function entirely in their space, and I don’t know how to state that any less abstractly.

Not everyone can live in every, just any house. Mine must be the House of words.

5:25 PM Watching a Hindi movie after a long time, Phir Hera Pheri.

8:03 PM I picture you in your singular multitudes. (It’s a thought that assaults me so often – and I write about it just as much – but I can’t shake it.) In your various countries, various cities, your streets, your houses, your rooms, I picture you as all the same, in so many bodies. Different voices, faces, heights and widths, different languages and proclivities, but the outlines are all the same. I could take a single mold from door to door and fill it as easily with your particulars as with hers, or hers, or even hers an ocean across.

9:43 PM [Thoughts inspired from the movie The Last Kiss]

I think a child is better off with one loving parent than two feuding ones.

How long you’ve already been together is no reason to stay together any longer than you don’t want to.

I feel like Zach Braff’s character whenever I’m at a party or a bar, with the girls all like Rachel Bilson (from that scene where they’re at the party she takes him to). He’s almost thirty in the movie, she’s the typical college girl. She looks the part and acts her age, and so does he.

10:24 PM You. are. perfection. manifest.

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