it's 8:25 am, on June 04, 2002 - nothingness.
~
I feel lost tonight.
A temporary lost, for sure, and it's nothing I can't handle -- I know that as long as I'm entombed in my room. But Bobby went to New York, Bobby took pictures of things in New York. Bobby's going to New Orleans next weekend.
All the places he goes are recycled names. All the places we ever go are recycled names.
Doqz says, he is afraid of the infinite void. That death being a nothingness is terrifying, to him. So he says. We've had the conversation about it several times, and each time I have to say, a void is comforting. Because I'm not a pack rat, maybe. --because I'm not one for commitments, maybe. I have serious problems making commitments; moreover, I don't LIKE to. But these things are more appropriately said to someone like Rae, whom I owe a lot of explanation and also a lot of, something, not here.
Anyway, so in myth class we were discussing fringe cults in ancient times, how the Orphic cults, for example, didn't kill or eat animals, didn't have sex, all because they thought that their moral behavior in this life would reflect well on their divine soul, their 'psyche' -- which apparently means 'breath', literally. So they do all these moral things in life, and hopefully, if they do them well enough, their souls will be separated from their bodies and they'll stop being reincarnated.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. So basically, if you work really hard at being good, at ignoring your flesh, you'll be separated from it and achieve, whatever it is you set out to achieve -- in most religions, eternal happiness, etc etc amen. But I don't really want to achieve that, thank you. I want to know that when I'm gone, I'm gone. I'm not going to have some afterlife. I want a void, a return to the component which most matter is composed of: nothing but empty space.
Not that I want to exist within empty space. I want to be the space, and nothing more. See, it's very very difficult for people to envision nothingness. It's a concept foreign to human beings, maybe, the idea that something can simply, cease. But this is my ultimate karmic goal. To cease.
Did I mention I'm feeling a little lost tonight? I guess I did. I think it comes from watching 24 -- I saw the end finally and my favorite character turns out to be despicable, as so often happens with Joel Surnow shows. At least, La Femme Nikita never ceased to be a fountain of depression, proving over and over again how disgusting people as a species, working individually and in groups, can be.
On that theme:
*
Kitty frowned. "Logan told me to--"
Betsy cut her off sharply. "You don't work for Logan, you work for me. Are you homicide? No. You're vice. Do your job."
Kitty bit her lip, getting lipstick on her teeth. She glanced in the mirror, and then carefully, with a tissue, wiped it away. The tissue looked grotesque, sitting in the garbage can, a blotch of bright pink against white. Kitty pulled another piece of tissue off the roll and covered the lipstick up.
Betsy put a hand on her hip, tapping her manicure against the silk of her dress. "So tell me what you're going to do when you go out there."
Kitty sighed. "I'm going to talk politely to Ms. Frost, and hopefully she'll invite me to dinner."
"And?"
Kitty pulled out her lipstick, applying more carefully. She said, "and I'm not going to ask her about any more of her boys," and dabbed at her lips.
Betsy smiled at her reflection, and put a hand on Kitty's shoulder, squeezing. "Good." Betsy's hand was cold. "Because that's Logan's department, and you know he's handling it. You're a good agent," Betsy said, "just follow procedure."
"Okay," Kitty said. "Okay."
~
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