its peculiar how at one moment one's inner conflicts seem metaphysical and at another infinitesimal

maybe the quality of life is dictated by endorphins
and reality as we perceive it are just the outer mechanics of meaningless abstractions

mmmm
i think its all the sugar
made some chocolate pistachio fudge in the afternoon,
dangerously addictive

but really i think the high I'm on now is probably from reading Surprised by Joy by my favourite author
it's not that he is uber interesting, and most of the time his discussions are quite beyond my intellectual capacity
it could be the intellectual stimulus but i think its more that that
its even beyond the aesthetics, though i think he makes other authors like *cough* Lucardo seem prosaic

to be honest, and i know it'll probably sound dumb
sometimes i try to find my mantra to life in the literature i read
i bought JM Coetzee's Youth hoping to find some inspiration from the character, a mathematician aspiring for the bohemian life
not that i fancy myself such
and it didnt work out
cause the book had a fatalistic ending

maybe that's why i finally decided to read this book
because feeling aimless and drifting
i turned to this book hoping to find a rudder
mmm
i wont say i did
but i think it put certain things in their places
and all the aesthetic and intellectual pleasure it brought cant really be bad either