magister marce had an interesting point, that i just unearthed from my notes tonight. after reading catullus and his lovely [hack] poetry, he added a line...

were not really sure all this happend you know... it could be that some guy, named catullus, just sat around imagining this lesbia girl, or based her off someone he met once, and made up all these stories about her... torrid sex and all. for all we know, hes that weired ugly guy sitting in a closet writing poems about some girl hes obsessed about, or that doesnt even exist.

that made me think.

i wonder.

that maybe.

some day.

if people...

find this....

read it

read it again


and just presume that i am some ugly guy, sitting around making it all up.


not a kind thought. not at all. i wonder how catullus would feel, if everything he wrote was true; and people 3,000 years later think hes just full of shit. hell, people think im full of shit now; so i suppose why would they wait 3k years to say anything to me? still though. makes a big pounding in my head thinking about people trying to find a place in history. i generally disapprove of the point... that is people specifically trying to find a way to scrawl their hand on the wall of fate forever. but sometimes you are left wondering about such things. i mean.. i of all the things that remain of great roman literature... lots of it is preserved on bathroom walls in ruins. seriously. thats how we learned alot about the folkways of rome. sure, writings and polished works are kept, and can be found in greek and other languages... but we learn the most from the simplest of things that people scribble down and leave behind. makes me wonder if any of this might one day be noticed. if so, how? and by whom? how will they think of me? am i some odd shred little man that hides in a corner, or am i maybe smarter than those around me and just adrift in anomie, or prehaps im not much more than a hopeless romantic that hates romance movies? after all, if you re read the past couple years worth of posts on here, you do get the preoccupation with several key things and people. but then again, maybe not. i suppose in my own mind i can sound like im droning on about the same girl from class, or memories and things that i rather like remembering about other girls, or just being able to outwardly hate some others.... sometimes that doesnt come across for other people. along time ago, i said alot of this is coded. not a=4, but deeply hidden in contextual meaning. to me, its clear. to others its translucent. [scratch head] maybe that would make all this much more difficult to summarize if someone found it all laying around in the future. ... sometimes i guess it could be next to impossible to arrive at the same conclusions of hurtfull emotions that i put down here, with out having any kind of reference for it. equally difficult would it be, to find the source of happiness from these words, if im not around to explain it. maybe i am that lonely man sitting in the corner. for all anyone else knows, that could be right. this lonely man does dream. he writes about it. but he never mistakes it for the truth. even when i daydream about the hot girls in latin, i know, deep down, none of it will come to be. and if you should wonder, what all i do dream about... let me say this. it is something that i keep to myself. not out of embarrasement, dispair or pity; but as personal space. things that will never happen, happiness that will never be, but all the while, kept to myself, alone, so that none can ruin it for me. the truth is something i wish to know.... but is the truth what i know, or who i am?



sic veritas ne verus est. ego verum scire ut fiam quem eundem.