I’ve been avoiding this place. It seems that every time I come here, its with an exhibitionist tale that’ll be a source of much future cringing and eye averting. What’s that line? ‘I buried my secrets in my silence’.

This is one of my favorite lines ever written, one of those that have etched themselves indelibly on the wall of my mind. It’s from the Famished Road-Ben Okri.

Do you remember Push by Stephen King? How the main guy would use his mental energies to push his victim’s mind into registering different realities than the one that was really happening? It left a permanent scar, that book.

Whenever I think HEADACHE, I see a freshly shod horse stomping across the vast expanse of my soft, sensitive, brain matter and uprooting great chunks of brain, the holes filling up with bright pink blood and some sort of brainal plasma. I hate headaches.

I.D.E.N.T.I.T.Y. Ever since Moses brought it up, this identity business has been eating me up.

I’m a Christian: Noted

A sexy Christian: Noted. Embraced. Actively facilitated.

A sexy assertive, liberal, fair, objective, sensible, engaging, relevant woman who is also a Christian.

This one, I’m having trouble with managing without compromising my brand new beliefs.

Recently, somebody-after branding me with ‘MPD’ (stupid, by the way) told me that it’s impossible to live your life in a constant state of self evaluation. True. It’s a freaking burden.

But in Love Warps The Mind a Little (fantastic book -John Dufresne. Look it up now), Lafayette Proulx says that one of the most beautiful things about life is that one can constantly re-examine, improve, change, keep on coming up with new models of the self.

I many times catch myself  wondering if I’ll still be able to write, If I’m not losing my verve with this decision to be still, be calm, collect my thoughts. Didn’t my style depend largely on the riotous workings of my then spastic mind?

I fear. I fear that wrinkles shall plaster their bastard selves to my eyes and mouth and neck and I’ll feel I wasted my moment of perfection (you’re at your physical peak at 22, aren’t you?) on celibacy and dullness under the guise of ‘being still’ and ‘not selling myself short’.

The issue of identity is such a big one. I hate it.


About Miz. Kyrte

I read, I write, I love. My favorite quote is: We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing. Bukowski, baby! Extremes ;-)

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2 responses to “I ADMIT

  1. petesmama

    Identity will evolve – it is inevitable. And there will come a time when you will look back on 21 year old you with mild amusement and pity, even.

    That said, don’t take yourself too seriously either. God knew what he was getting when he commissioned the making of you. It is an insult to Him not to be yourself and have fun doing it.

    Evolve until you come up with your own idea of sexy Christian you.

  2. Constant re-evaluation. Constant rebirth, Now that sounds like a plan.
    (Dufresne ooye)

    I’m going to relaunch my Tom Robbins obsession and then reacquaint myself with my coarse but brilliant Bukowski. These two say such amazing things about ‘taking oneself too seriously’.

    Middlesex has done a great job of confusing me, but I’m going to reread it at least twice.

    But really. What on this planet can not be solved by good literature? Nothing, that’s what.


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