Is this just a latent profound disorganization within me?
I just don’t think that lists help in any great justifiable-for-their-hype way.
Leaving the place I’ve lived almost three years (exaggeration: two and a half) I now have three lists, one of which I generated myself and which probably duplicates a bunch of the stuff in the other lists.
Now I just have I made a list of what I need to do before I leave, and so instead of relieving the stress of leaving (which I’m not even sure that lists claim to do, as a union, I mean) I just have a bunch of stuff to do on three pieces of paper that I sould probably cross off, but that stuff is already in my head. And I don’t particulary get any pleasure or sense of accomplishment from crossing things off a list.
Okay so this is totally un-interesting. And perhaps it is time for me to go out into the world and suffer a little so I have something more poignant to say.
In this book I’m reading now there’s a great line by Allen Ginsberg where he says something about the “drunken taxicab of absolute reality” which the author thinks about sitting accross from a woman with a shirt that says “Life sucks and then you die”.
Haha. Think of Allen Ginsberg or ‘woman in depressing stupid tee-shirt’ making lists! Those would be funny.
Mine have things like “make more lists” at the bottom of them! I can be funny to myself sometimes.
The wall of my bedroom, with the liner notes from “Kind of Blue” tacked on all around the room: