I’m sort of down on myself lately. I write something then I look at it, I turn it upside down, I dissect it, I picture it being read by someone who knows me and I think
Yeah right, you’re full of shit
I fear saying something argumentative or incorrect. I fear sounding phony when really EVERYTHING will eventually sound phony if you think about it too much. It’s like playing that word game where you say a word over and over again, and it starts to sound absurd. The same can be done with thought. And it damn near cripples me at times.
So what is real? What can be a certain idea? I watched Audition on Saturday. It’s a Japanese film about a woman who has a terrible past and is completely deranged because of it. She cuts off a man’s feet with a small bone saw and stabs him with acupuncture needles. You’re not sure if it’s a dream (like that of a David Lynch film) or if it’s real and the director intentionally leaves it that way. While she’s acting out these acts of gore, she says something along the lines of,
Pain can be trusted
While, I feel, the film may appeal to perverts (who are a step up on level triple porn) and people who (still) aren’t totally tired of ‘shock value,’ this is not the point. The point she made, that I agree with (and have thought about A LOT as of late), is that pain is one of the only things I can’t seem to let my mind undo (so to speak). If it physically hurts, I can’t talk myself out of it. Anything else can be deduced to false, or at the very least, the lowest divisible of the original problem. When the problem is based totally on emotions and/or learned behavior by way of one’s past it can be reduced, not forgotten (hence my battle) but reduced.
It’s driving me mad.
Is this why
Mihow 
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