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Hi, I'm your friendly Coriolibot (as in "ro-bot").

It would seem Vince (shame on him) hasn't posted a fresh entry in a couple of days, so I am here to keep you entertained no matter what!

The post below is a random entry that we hope you haven't read before. Regular current entries follow. Enjoy, and come back soon for brand new posts!

Note: this random entry is served on a per-visit basis and will change if you reload the page. It will also not show up on regular RSS, Feedburner and Twitter feeds.

   Vintage! This is a random post. The year was 2007...

There’s this large library, filled with millions of books. We pick one up, generally a scary, tension-loaded story, and we start reading. As the plot unfolds we become nervous and stressed, identifying with the distressed protagonists and forgetting that we have control on our reading. We begin to turn pages faster, our movements harsh and our breathing shallow. Then suddenly we tear the corner of a page off. We grab a roll of scotch tape and reattach it, and we keep on reading. Another page is torn. Out comes the tape. This repair is a little less precise. Then it happens again, and again. Pages now get torn and taped back in carelessly. Corners are poking out, entire paragraphs disappear, pages stick together, massive use of tape makes the book swell and the cover crack. But tape manufacturers comes out with a new kind of better, fully transparent tape. So we buy it and keep reading, tearing and taping. The book’s condition gets worse. A new tape dispenser is introduced, allowing us to hold the book with one hand and read on while taping back with the other; the dispenser has tripled the cost of our tape but we keep buying. More tape is needed now because reading with one hand makes us clumsier. We never stop reading and destroying books. The tape companies grow bigger. They start advertising and promoting books because tape has become an integral part of reading. So we go to the library and pick up a new book.

[Sound of a vinyl record scratched by the record player’s needle]

Oh, wait a minute. I don’t think I ever explained my analogy. The library is our body. Books are health and mental issues. The tape manufacturers are doctors and pharmaceutical companies. Tape itself is modern medicine.

About the author: He lives in Downtown Vancouver with 100,000 other readers. Organic tape is very trendy around there. And still nobody wonders why they need it in the first place. Copyright 2007. Printed in Canada on taped recycled paper, 347 body parts. The end.

 

 Posted at 2:01 PM in Schtroumpfissime:

3 Comments

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  • 1 - Anonymous says:

    « We live in a repressive society.
    It seems as if all the fun had gone out of life.
    We don’t laugh much anymore, we worry. A lot.
    So unhappiness. So pills. So cancer, mental sickness of all kinds and serial
    killers at large. »

  • 2 - Amber says:

    « I look at your site every few days and it makes me feel closer to Van, a city I never expected to miss as much as I do. Also gives me a nice study break. Never would have guessed that Vince from LC would be my tie to Van as I’m living in Leeds. Thanks, V! »

  • 2.1 - Vince answers:

    « My pleasure, Amber! It’s always flattering to be someone’s study break. ;-) Van says hi! »

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We now go back to current chronological entries:

Thick convoluted clouds were drawing menacing shapes in a meaningless sky. In a song an eagle soared away, along with hopes and promises. Nothing in the early morning seemed to make sense. The scene outside the window was an abstraction. A few tables to the left, a math student was transferring long strings of numbers from loose sheets to a computer, as if numbers could make sense of our lives.

The night had offered very little sleep and dawn had brought bad dreams. Now coffee was finally infusing some soothing warmth into icy waters. But with a newfound peace, the questions as always came in focus.

How does one leave glory behind to settle into an anonymous existence? Will the dreams of furious seas and raging storms ever stop recurring, so fantastic now that they are free of substance but terrible when they were a reality? Can skin ever forget the fierce assault of a tropical sun, the burning caress of bright sandy beaches and the friendly sting of salt water? Will the call of the deep ever fade away or will it forever haunt me, enticing me to find dark and cold places to jump into, and be weightless, and be alone, and be free?

Those depths where life hangs on a thread, intense and full of purpose, how I miss them now that my whole life revolves around down-to-Earth realities. Buying groceries. Finding a cheap place to stay downtown. Making ends meet.

There is nothing as melancholic as a battle lost. Except, maybe, a battle won.

 

 Posted at 7:45 PM in Schtroumpfissime:

5 Comments

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  • 1 - Sigrid says:

    « I « think » when you miss places, lives or people, it’s good to do the meditation thing: you watch yourself missing it, you notice how you long for it, and then you let it go, and the observer is just that, an observer. Wonderful advice, which of course, i’m incapable of following! »

  • 2 - Anonymous says:

    « Or ask yourself : was I really happy, then ?
    Would I voluntarily choose to go
    back and live what I lived ?
    Is that what I really want, now, or do I only think I do ?
    ;-) »

  • 3 - Anonymous says:

    « and then, you can allow yourself to cry on your own shoulder.
    And then, and only then, you can start counting your blessings.
    That will take you a long time.
    Enjoy. »

  • 4 - Vince says:

    « Sigrid: I can do the observer thing endlessly, it works very well. When I’m balanced. But the haunting thoughts always catch me off guard, when I’m weak or unprepared or exposed. It takes a while to regain composure and that’s when they thrive, that’s all. It’s temporary. But these things, for better and for worse, I’ll miss forever.

    Anonymous: of course not, I wouldn’t necessarily choose to go back. It’s not the situation as a whole that I miss. But we’re talking about flash of pure, undiluted LIFE here. Moments of absolute perfection, like swimming 8 miles off shore, in 4000 feet of water, whith a pod of sperm whales... That’s what haunts me forever.

    Hehe, blog = couch? ;-) »

  • 5 - NewYorkangel says:

    « Je passe tellement par les mêmes phases et on connait tellement ces élans de nostalgie toi et moi (dont je ne sais pas toujours sortir pour ma part) que je n’ai aucun conseil à donner... Just moral support, if ever it can helps! »

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