morse

is where you un-repeat your remorse.
random thought from reading blogs. shit happens, but that doesn't make life shit. i'm sick of pensive, grave thoughts about how we pad on heavily as our lives inevitably peters out into pathetic pools of very potent nothing. very hardy, also foolhardy. perhaps it makes you feel better, perhaps it makes you feel clever, or arty, or whateverthehell, but that doesn't make it true. maybe things are going stupidly now, or going badly, or going according to nobody's plans, but forever? for your whole life? for 10 years? gee, that's hard to say.
watching the old men at coffeeshops, the beer-drinking and mahjong playing at getais, the things men do to forget, makes it seem like there's really nothing to forget and everything to remember. if that makes any sense. i love the juxtaposition of superstition/mysticism/tradition with games and gambling and drinking. actually, it's not really a juxtaposition. the games and activities go on while the incense, the offerings, are ignored, festering away on the side as the flies come, and whatever else arrives. any excuse to play, even the ghosts.