I love to take long drives with no particular route or destination in mind especially at nights after long days. Something about these night-time journeys calms me--the landscape perhaps--because it appears differently at night as it is transformed into something more mysterious, unique, almost anonymous, for one does not know it as well at night as opposed to when it is fully exposed to broad daylight.
To my mind, the images of the landscape at night are some of the most exquisit. From the distant splash of the Jersey lights bouncing on a stretch of the Hudson River across from New York -- reflecting some of the most interesting shapes and colors the eyes are ever likely to see, to the unexpected smokey trash can one passes on 42nd street, from which a large puff of smoke slowly rise to the air like a cobra in tune with a musical note.
As if that weren't enough, the neon lights nearby casts a thought-provoking image when intermingled with the smoke. Something abstract...something akin to good and evil. The stoplight allows me to observe the scenery from afar a while longer and then I move on along nature's course. People usually seek nature out for solace and peace. How many times have we in wanting to get away from the city, vacationed in places where one could literally hug nature? It is said that even the great poets and many a character in our favorite novels have usually returned to nature to "find himself," so to speak. Perhaps these night drives are calming because one is quite literally at work with nature, albeit negotiating its landscape on wheels.
It's strangely quiet tonight and sleep has again refused me. I'm denied entrance to the realm of sweet dreams and tight sleeps where the bed bugs don't bite and the boogie man doesn't lurk in the closet or under the bed. I'm denied entrance perhaps, to the realm of a great nightmare, where even if it is an adventure with Poe or Kreuger, at least I won't hear the familiar snore and the occassional grinding of teeth beside me.
I'm so envious of YOU-you who find it easy to fall asleep once you're in bed. How do you do it? I've tried many things but to no avail. Very rarely have I been afforded the natural state of falling sleep. Mine is an unnatural one--pills.
So here I sit rambling on hoping two things; firstly, that my mind will soon exhaust itself and the pills will kick in or vice versa. Secondly, that if I begin to "sleepwrite" that when or if you read this it will be somewhat logical.
Sometime later 1:57 am
I'm reminded of my high school years when I was known among friends as a vampire. An unusual nickname I thought back then, in the sense that unlike vampires I didn't sleep on schedule as soon as daylight broke. (guess I should mention that I've also never bitten anyone or drank blood--ever!)...
I'm grateful for the gentle breeze now ruffling the curtains by the window. The pair of them (the curtains,) are panicked--flapping wildly against the pane and, from what I could gather they bickered about having their skirt-tails held higher than normal by the breeze. I don't care though let them bicker.. I'm happy for the breeze. The respite from the scorching New York summer heat with the sun leaning on almost every New Yorker's back is great for a change..yay!
The question asked in the comment section of the post { I Desire } was:
"...who or what would you be if you were actually freed from all these "masks"? Who are we really without the personas we "put on"? In the end, I think we're a combination of all of those..........all those masks we create to protect ourselves. "
While we do construct masks to protect ourselves there are those ascribed to us by the outer world which we adapt for ourselves because they are used to define who we are. As such, we come to see our "selves" through the eyes of others and admittedly, we are a combination of all of these as you point out.
The desire however, of which I speak of is elusive/confounding yes. Lacan calls it a "'hole in the self' which the subject attempts to close through an endless, metonymic chain of supplements: the perfect car, the perfect boyfriend, a tenure track job, etc. But as soon as one supplement is acquired, desire moves onto something else. Desire is a (representational) itch that can never truly be scratched." { Explained fully here }
In this case its a desire nonetheless to know, to have, to do, to JUST BE--without the masks--one person rather than multiples.
Because its a desire, and because it is by its very nature fleeting, ethereal even, it denies us total satisfaction; by the time it even gets to that point, another desire manifests itself--the escape to some foreign land portrayed in painting for instance, after being tempted by its landscape or the lure of the painted nude who imposes himself in a certain window display in a prominent store in Manhattan--for "Art's" sake hmm...
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Last modified: 9/13/09, 1:17 AM
