From Jan-April 2005, i was really into Ashlee Simpson. I enjoyed the Ashlee Simpson reality show immensely. She appeared on late nite tv, and I always got an update on Ashlee's day. Ashlee Simpson is adorable, and I will always stand by my girl, even though I have trouble recognizing her face nowadays. How do people bear to put themselves under the knife, only to wake up with a different face? I imagine you have to hate yourself really that much. So you see, Ashlee and me--I hate me, she hates her--on a certain level, we connect, we relate.
However, in contrast to Ashlee, i am somewhat discreet when it comes to details of my personal life. My perceptions and opinions, on the other hand, are gratuitous and plentiful--a dime a dozen, some would say. It is with the tangible details of daily-life that I am cheaper than The Scrooge. I offer nothing that can pin me down to a fact, nothing that can hold me to a concrete actuality, i like to think.
Now that the Ashlee Simpson show is no longer on air, I have the news. When things happen to my Canada, when things happen to my world, my heart skips a beat. I know; I care; I have completed a certain rite of passage to enter the imaginary community of the world that is the common ground on which we stand. We belong to one another because we know the same things about our world, we appreciate one another's eloquent articulations, and I continue to cultivate this illusory connection to you. Is this how you feel, you who are part of this imaginary community? Is this what you seek? Belonging?
Despite our common worldview, i habour your bodily details like a love-starved pup. I search for things concrete, and I feel so well taken care of when you let a few snippets slip. "Excuse me," you apologize, "I was sick over the weekend and couldn't write." You mean, you have a body--oh. "Excuse me," you explain, "I'm writing on the fly--anniversary weekend with the husband." You mean, you have ... --oh. "I'm in Hong Kong. Here is a picture. I'm doing fine." Thank you, because I was wondering.
I have little to offer--my body unwieldy and my experiences whimsical. So like a miser, I covet carnal details of your day--nothing abstruse, nothing conceptual, and none of this airy flary fluff of which I am so full. Feed me with your body, because my soul is so unsubstantial.
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Well, honestly, what do you do all day? i mean like actions. i like to think too, but being entirely self-absorbed i like to think about my own predicaments. And, being entirely self-absorbed, i tend to think of everything happening to me as predicaments. so i tell about my predicaments. my blog is beginning to bore me. i hope i won't fall asleep reading back issues. hehe
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