Friday, February 04, 2005
If You’re Not Crazy, You’re Not Paying Attention
We all have titles to our lives. This is mine. Sometimes my story is a book with long streams of consciousness. Sometimes my story is a movie with jazz as the soundtrack and I’m driving down I-94 into the City of Detroit. Sometimes it’s a TV show like a docucomedydrama called Remember Mom aired after they safely snuggle me into my silk and downy quilted coffin and all my advice and wisdom and rumblings turned out to be prophetic.
Yet always I am crazy. Have been since I was seven years old. I remember the day, or night actually. I woke up in the middle of a dark night and saw a vision of red ribbon and heard a high-pitched buzz, and then saw myself at seven, and then saw an old lady with jowls. And I have been crazy since. For years, I thought they had switched me to a different planet. Thought they had taken me to an identical (but different) world where every single thing seemed the same, but wasn’t. All colors and sounds and textures and people were similar, but not right. I knew nothing for sure because it wasn’t really my world. Later, I would learn about alternative universes and thought that explained it.
Anyway, TMI, I’m sure.
The point is, I have found a site. It is an alternate universe. There are a woman and her son that run a blog. The son finds humor. The mother tries to. The son is into film making (he is video taping his world for a Canadian Sunday news show). The mother gets more serious. (There are a couple extra sons, too. And one of them has a hard-line political side.) I have the idea that the son is quite a character. And I am sure they are both crazy.
They try to find sanity. They try to understand their world and make sense of what is happening. Sometimes they are very angry. Sometimes they see the ludicrosity of life. Sometimes, they escape from the real horror of their dimension into the thoughts and happenings of common everyday life, but everyday life teaches lessons and lessons take them right back to the horrors-- albeit with twisted irony. They have shown me a great perspective on my world, my country and me. In their struggle to come to terms with their lives, they are teaching me a lot about mine. But their lives are in Bagdad. And I am so addicted to their site. I hope you have a chance to check them out. I am a deep believer in spending time in alternate universes. The mother is Faiza. The son is Khalid Jarrar.
http://secretsinbaghdad.blogspot.com
We all have titles to our lives. This is mine. Sometimes my story is a book with long streams of consciousness. Sometimes my story is a movie with jazz as the soundtrack and I’m driving down I-94 into the City of Detroit. Sometimes it’s a TV show like a docucomedydrama called Remember Mom aired after they safely snuggle me into my silk and downy quilted coffin and all my advice and wisdom and rumblings turned out to be prophetic.
Yet always I am crazy. Have been since I was seven years old. I remember the day, or night actually. I woke up in the middle of a dark night and saw a vision of red ribbon and heard a high-pitched buzz, and then saw myself at seven, and then saw an old lady with jowls. And I have been crazy since. For years, I thought they had switched me to a different planet. Thought they had taken me to an identical (but different) world where every single thing seemed the same, but wasn’t. All colors and sounds and textures and people were similar, but not right. I knew nothing for sure because it wasn’t really my world. Later, I would learn about alternative universes and thought that explained it.
Anyway, TMI, I’m sure.
The point is, I have found a site. It is an alternate universe. There are a woman and her son that run a blog. The son finds humor. The mother tries to. The son is into film making (he is video taping his world for a Canadian Sunday news show). The mother gets more serious. (There are a couple extra sons, too. And one of them has a hard-line political side.) I have the idea that the son is quite a character. And I am sure they are both crazy.
They try to find sanity. They try to understand their world and make sense of what is happening. Sometimes they are very angry. Sometimes they see the ludicrosity of life. Sometimes, they escape from the real horror of their dimension into the thoughts and happenings of common everyday life, but everyday life teaches lessons and lessons take them right back to the horrors-- albeit with twisted irony. They have shown me a great perspective on my world, my country and me. In their struggle to come to terms with their lives, they are teaching me a lot about mine. But their lives are in Bagdad. And I am so addicted to their site. I hope you have a chance to check them out. I am a deep believer in spending time in alternate universes. The mother is Faiza. The son is Khalid Jarrar.
http://secretsinbaghdad.blogspot.com
