The sun comes out and goes back in, the earth turns round… I blog about hot porridge
I started this blog because I felt the need to tell my own story. One with its own story At the same time I had in my mind to leave out what has unwound for nearly half a year already (my “competent” doctor says that it is a little longer than that). I wanted to help myself by myself. (You always have to help your self by yourself: that is simply decent. That disturbs other less, to clean the record.) But I could also thus stir up old records. But, let it go into the world, I thought, stories about the troubles of others may also be instructive to somebody, you never know. I imposed on myself, when I began, to myself separate from the story. I did not want to write about writing, about the blog, and how that all might be. But it left out that the story about myself is like hot porridge, and I am turning, turning around it, as would a decent cat worthy of its battered fur that it carries through seven or nine or however many lives. And I am not disappointed, it is good to turn. But what. Here I am now writing about writing and wrangling (just with myself) what the writer wanted to say. Then. Something happened, a breakdown that is part of the story. The cat licked and was burned anyway. Nothing terrible. Just, the last post caused a response which compelled me to imagine. While I was writing it, I was seized by the same symptoms that shook me outside the doors of the psychiatric emergency admissions. I do not want to describe it, nor to recall it. I recovered after two days, happily.
I imposed on myself what I did, was burned, licked and understood. A blog is a sticky affair. Writing it when you have also to write about it. Reading it, quickly you get attached to certain readings and you also have to comment on them. Opening your own blog you find yourself in your own world where there are your borders and inhabitants. Excuse me for these discoveries of warm waters. Because that is not all: while I am telling the story, the blog is posted and a part of the story, the stickiness gets itself right in the act! But now that is, please, entirely personal! Now I find myself faced with uncertainty. In fact, after two or three months I asked the shrink if we will work with any psychotherapy, and not just stuff me with seroquel. No, no, no way, this is not the time for that, he said sagely. And now I see that he was right. It is not the time for lancing the boil. But this stickiness catches me fairly straight away and here I am writing about it, turning one more time around the hot porridge. Like most uncertainty this will also crucify me by itself. One turn of the earth and tomorrow he will know things he did not know today. And forget what he knew. Sometimes I ask myself if he turns both himself and our world around his hot porridge.
20.09.2007. (19:07)
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hej, Zlatousti! par puta sam otvorila tvoj blog, ali tek sam večeras krenula čitat ispočetka i stigla, evo, do ovdje. zašto sam ti se beš tu odlučila javit? jer mi se ta pjesma iz naslova cijeli dan u glavi vrti. ...sve je povezano. bućnulo u vodu i pliva. ;)
26.09.2012. (02:55)
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Reader
The sun comes out and goes back in, the earth turns round… I blog about hot porridge
I started this blog because I felt the need to tell my own story.
One with its own story
At the same time I had in my mind to leave out what has unwound for nearly half a year already (my “competent” doctor says that it is a little longer than that). I wanted to help myself by myself. (You always have to help your self by yourself: that is simply decent. That disturbs other less, to clean the record.) But I could also thus stir up old records. But, let it go into the world, I thought, stories about the troubles of others may also be instructive to somebody, you never know.
I imposed on myself, when I began, to myself separate from the story. I did not want to write about writing, about the blog, and how that all might be. But it left out that the story about myself is like hot porridge, and I am turning, turning around it, as would a decent cat worthy of its battered fur that it carries through seven or nine or however many lives. And I am not disappointed, it is good to turn.
But what. Here I am now writing about writing and wrangling (just with myself) what the writer wanted to say.
Then. Something happened, a breakdown that is part of the story. The cat licked and was burned anyway. Nothing terrible. Just, the last post caused a response which compelled me to imagine. While I was writing it, I was seized by the same symptoms that shook me outside the doors of the psychiatric emergency admissions. I do not want to describe it, nor to recall it. I recovered after two days, happily.
I imposed on myself what I did, was burned, licked and understood. A blog is a sticky affair. Writing it when you have also to write about it. Reading it, quickly you get attached to certain readings and you also have to comment on them. Opening your own blog you find yourself in your own world where there are your borders and inhabitants.
Excuse me for these discoveries of warm waters.
Because that is not all: while I am telling the story, the blog is posted and a part of the story, the stickiness gets itself right in the act! But now that is, please, entirely personal!
Now I find myself faced with uncertainty. In fact, after two or three months I asked the shrink if we will work with any psychotherapy, and not just stuff me with seroquel. No, no, no way, this is not the time for that, he said sagely. And now I see that he was right. It is not the time for lancing the boil.
But this stickiness catches me fairly straight away and here I am writing about it, turning one more time around the hot porridge.
Like most uncertainty this will also crucify me by itself.
One turn of the earth and tomorrow he will know things he did not know today. And forget what he knew.
Sometimes I ask myself if he turns both himself and our world around his hot porridge.
20.09.2007. (19:07) - - - - - promjene spremljene- uredi komentar - obriši komentar - prijavi ovaj komentar kao spam - zabrani komentiranje autoru ovog komentara- učitavam...
daniela1
hej, Zlatousti! par puta sam otvorila tvoj blog, ali tek sam večeras krenula čitat ispočetka i stigla, evo, do ovdje. zašto sam ti se beš tu odlučila javit? jer mi se ta pjesma iz naslova cijeli dan u glavi vrti. ...sve je povezano. bućnulo u vodu i pliva. ;)
26.09.2012. (02:55) - - - - - promjene spremljene- uredi komentar - obriši komentar - prijavi ovaj komentar kao spam - zabrani komentiranje autoru ovog komentara- učitavam...