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#09

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Traffic

I think I saw Adri (first name seems inappropriately personal, but the old Popagandhi persona is kinda dead and since I'm prefering to her person, it has not to be confused with a writer's persona which is separate and abstract so does a persona exist in a physical sense or only in a frame of mind? But then again, the written word is physical and this could go on forever so am shutting up now back to...) the other day outside the Orchard Apple Centre (notice that in an ignorant context, one might think this has something to do with fruit).

Prior to this, briefly escaping the entanglement of a group of friends, I was once again confronted with the awful reality that I was magnificently screwing up my life through a pursuit of the wrong course, wrong university, wrong priorities, wrong life. All this though the unexpected encounter with an ex-jc friend, whose anguished exclamation of "Why aren't you doing lit? You're GOOD at lit!" momentarily threatened to push my recovering walking-on-eggshells ego back into the abyss of Deep Angst, with all the theatrics of a megalomaniac on-screen villian.

Leaving the aforementioned company in a slight daze, survival instincts must have taken hold. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was already in Wheellock Place, because my metaphysical turmoil found itself facing a formidable challenger: material indulgence. I found myself standing a the Apple Centre staring at the signs at the entrance.

If my head or just the day it was living through was not crowded enough, I had the remarkable chance of meeting a friend 3 times after the group supposedly parted for the day. Once, walking out of the loo. Second, standing outside Apple where she asked whether I was getting an iPod.

I felt obliged to convey the understanding that since the educational discounts advertised on the signs outside the Centre only covered PowerBooks and iBooks, it would not be a logical extension that I was looking to procure an iPod as I was looking at the signs. Had I managed to impress this upon her, I would then have said, "And yes, I do want an iPod."

Unfortunately, my very complex train of thought fell apart with all the grace and subtly of a multi-highway-pileup car wreck as I tried to discern whether it was Adri (Popagandhi/textSOAP/the blogger once known as Adri etc. - I think watching Buffy's Earshot episode today with Oz's philosophical musings on well, Thought must have hit a cortical nerve). My reoccuring friend must have been confused at my mid-sentence lapse into silence. I would have another shot at explaining my very weird state of mind when I bump into her again downstairs at Borders after parting ways for the third time.

Edited to add:
I am my thoughts. If they exist in her, Buffy contains everything that is me and she becomes me. I cease to exist. Huh.
No one else exists either. Buffy is all of us. We think. Therefore she is.
- Oz, Buffy the Vampire Slayer 'Earshot'

Because right now, Oz makes total sense.

en at 11:07 pm

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