Everytime
When I want to write about something, and there are a lot of thoughts I have during the day, I feel that I’m incapable of doing that. Yeah, I was thinking about well-being and consumption, how they are related (obviously!) and how they are both affecting me. There was a thought about friendship (one of my friends doesn’t think it worth talking to me). And the feeling of time compression has come back.
Trying to solve (or to create) phonetic jokes. Freud wrote about humor and how it’s related with unconsiousness. At some point he was right, and a lot of jokes are made up of these phonetic similarities. But we face with juxtaposition jokes, which deal with simulation and play. When I say nonsence, I assume that the one who is receiving my joke is at the second level of understanding, knowing that it’s all about me and him (or her) telling and listening to a joke. So my point is that it’s not about joke at all, it’s about you both playing with each other, just covering true motives of feeling one another.
Gosh, I have no clear motives for writing that stuff. It was a spontaneous decision to write down the thought about Freud (which led me to visit the Dream museum of Freud today).
In other news, someone is in a deprivation cell. Well, it looks like the one, and not because of its appearance (it would be too easy), but because of the suject in it. You see, the way I am living for past, say, two month can be described as transitional. From one point to another. The whole system has to be reconstructed. I changed place, activity, friends, the way I used to spend my time.
Damn! There’s a lot of thoughts in my head, like that one: why am I writing this now?
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