bleahhh;
the last hurrah
& Saturday, September 9
quite tired
of failing promises made by me
to me
i have to finish litho tonight
i have to finish litho tonight
i have to
'it is very difficult to know people and i dont think one can ever know any but one's own countrymen. for men and women are not only themselves; they are also the region in which they were born, the city apartment or the farm in which they learnt to walk, the games they played as children, the old wives' tales they overheard, the food they ate, the schools they attended, the sports they followed, the poets they read, and the God they believed in. It is all these things that have made them what they are, and these are the things that you cant come to know by hearsay, you can only know them if you have lived with them. you can only know them if you are them.'
W Somerset Maugham
talented writer, i've only read 2 pages. the kind that seems to give the assurance that he's telling you like it is, and not extra sweet, or extra harsh. the kind who is funny, and makes sense. i've only read 2 pages. in fact, i've started on every single book i borrowed. knowing full well i cant finish them. stupid? yes
he was writing about a friend. american. he's english, writing this to say that writing this book aint easy, because he hardly knows that guy (he doesnt know all those stuff.) i dont know people. perhaps he knew his countrymen, i'm not sure. but for me, i dont even know the people i'm living with. the definition of 'know' is ambiguous. sure i know where they're going. i know their most hated food. but really knowing? perhaps it's better left that way, sure misunderstandings will arise. still, better to withhold. it's a self preservation thing.
'come on, talk to me. i'm a good listener'
'i'm no story-teller'
You know everything. scares me to death sometimes. yet since there is no point hiding anything. might as well talk about it. and ask.
goodbye
12:40 AM