Madness and Sight, Geometry and Kundera
Reading Kundera makes my head feel floopy. Yes, floopy. I don't know what that really means, or if it's even a word. But what my head feels like right now can be described perfectly by this one word that means so much even though it probably doesn't exist.
FLOOPY.
And my chest feels so heavy. So so heavy. Like I'm carrying the entire cosmos in my breast, like I'm sinking slowly because of the weight. I'm scared that I'll stand with my feet sunken in the soft ground, rooted to one place when rooted is the last thing I want to be. Being unable to move, fleeting glances change the object of my gaze restlessly. And then comes a point where there aren't any glances or any gaze at all and the object has stopped existing.
So the rolling eyeballs of a human being, driven to the precinct of insanity ( by the human itself, for how can forces exterior to oneself have the strength to shroud logic and beauty in depravity and inanity? No, such a state can only be brought to oneself by one's own self) search madly with desperation for something that'll stop it's eyes from rolling. For is not madness a desperation, a desperation that arises out of befuddlement at not being understood- or let me put it more clearly- at your own inability to understand why the plethora of human beings around you refuse to understand or even to try to comprehend that which is so obviously obvious that it's bloody geometric obviousness.
And then they call you mad and unstable, and then they put you in with other people they call mad and unstable...all the while blaming their incapacitated reasoning faculties on 'these mad people that feel too much,see too much and hear birds talk to them in Greek'.
And now these 'asylums' created for the mad contain the world, and the world outside contains belligerent fools that can't see or feel or hear. (The asylums don't protect the so-called sane population, they protect the ones inside from the depraved uncomrehending inanity of the sane-you knew that didn't you? Didn't you?? Even if you didn't, heed the word of a madwoman and say that you did oh please say that you did.)
My eyes roll on. I'm rooted and I see nothing. I refuse to look and see everything.
FLOOPY.
And my chest feels so heavy. So so heavy. Like I'm carrying the entire cosmos in my breast, like I'm sinking slowly because of the weight. I'm scared that I'll stand with my feet sunken in the soft ground, rooted to one place when rooted is the last thing I want to be. Being unable to move, fleeting glances change the object of my gaze restlessly. And then comes a point where there aren't any glances or any gaze at all and the object has stopped existing.
So the rolling eyeballs of a human being, driven to the precinct of insanity ( by the human itself, for how can forces exterior to oneself have the strength to shroud logic and beauty in depravity and inanity? No, such a state can only be brought to oneself by one's own self) search madly with desperation for something that'll stop it's eyes from rolling. For is not madness a desperation, a desperation that arises out of befuddlement at not being understood- or let me put it more clearly- at your own inability to understand why the plethora of human beings around you refuse to understand or even to try to comprehend that which is so obviously obvious that it's bloody geometric obviousness.
And then they call you mad and unstable, and then they put you in with other people they call mad and unstable...all the while blaming their incapacitated reasoning faculties on 'these mad people that feel too much,see too much and hear birds talk to them in Greek'.
And now these 'asylums' created for the mad contain the world, and the world outside contains belligerent fools that can't see or feel or hear. (The asylums don't protect the so-called sane population, they protect the ones inside from the depraved uncomrehending inanity of the sane-you knew that didn't you? Didn't you?? Even if you didn't, heed the word of a madwoman and say that you did oh please say that you did.)
My eyes roll on. I'm rooted and I see nothing. I refuse to look and see everything.
posted by Kronoskraor at 3:24 AM
1 Comments:
like i say verma , its maintaining our basic insanity in a world going sane... :D
unbearable lightness of being nd da common sense of shame (dats rushdie's shame )
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