lost in riddles

i am impatient, this impatience of mine affords me all the patience in the world. i have been thinking about greed and ambition, and i have been writing from a perspective of detail, even unparalleled detail. however these days it is one surprise after the next, and it is so much so that i get the idea that the more i think that i know today, the less i can predict about tomorrow.

i found myself not so long ago nursing a cup of tea at the one place associated with the sweetest of all memories of a few years past. then a few days ago i wake up to remember a fantastic dream that had me holding a passport in my hands that i know i have never held in my hands, or that at least, i do not remember holding in my hands. it has been a few years, and memories are all but perfect, at least mine are always coloured and disguised. the fact, or what i attribute to be a fact, of not having held that passport in my hands sometimes makes me wonder if the story from the past ever happened. it must have happened, the story must have happened. one of my friends did get a postcard from me mailed from the one place that i could not have been at had the story not happened. so it is that i revisit arabia on the shores on lac léman and all that i can think of is that one phone call and the implications about the virtual nature of reality.

i feel that i am totally gone, lost to reality and out of my mind. it is a good place to be. still, like one week ago, i totally lost it. detachment yielded to fear and i wondered if anything at all was real. perhaps there is nothing real in this life of mine...

storm

it has been one long and adventuresome day. woke up in the middle of the night tired and fell asleep again. then woke up again and looked out the window, it was light. looked at the clock and discovered that i had a choice between coffee and no shower or to be on time for the meeting, or to have either a coffee or a shower and be ridiculously late for the meeting. actually there was no choice at all really, i just poured myself into clean clothes and headed out. i was a few minutes late, but thankfully somebody reserved a seat for me on the floor. these days i am not quite sure what i am up to. just on sunday i told myself to "just give it all up!" and then laughed. had to laugh at myself.

had to think of a colleague's observation about his wife having reminded him that when he was telling himself that failure was not an option, that he should listen to himself. i remember when he told me the story, we both laughed. failure is always an option. it is a binary world of sorts, winning and failure are two possible outcomes. however if we consider qubits and qutrits, then there are a few more options. sometimes i think that i live more in a quantum world than in a classical world. my world must have more than three levels and be totally quantum.

the lecture yesterday went well. today i had five minutes to bring to the point what it is that i have been doing for the past three months, and i succeeded. i like it when my day flows. still, just a couple of hours later i knew that i was losing it, totally losing it. the whole afternoon i fought with myself, and i kept losing it, i knew that i had to leave the office. i am not too fond of losing it in public, and sometimes i need to totally lose it and have a good cry, talk to myself out loud, and articulate a few of those unspeakable thoughts that sometimes cruise through my mind's horizon.

i am writing again just for myself, i always write for myself, and above all i like to tell myself stories. sometimes i lose the thread, like i sometimes lose myself in the stories. this happens often. i am in love with my own world, and the virtual images that i have created of you. any other kind of love i find myself incapable of. somehow the real does not particularly interest me.

it comes to mind that there is one letter that i want to write to that one person who last february gave me a few precious words of wisdom. when i heard those words, i did not quite believe much of what i heard, but exactly because i did not believe in the words, i listened a bit more carefully. i do not believe in much. i believe in so very little that i often do not even believe in myself.

yesterday

yesterday i woke up after a very strange dream, the kind of dream that i want to shake off my memory because it is the kind of dream that leaves me very perplexed as to what it is that my subconscious is processing while i sleep. like on other occasions, while i would prefer to ignore the dream, i know that it has raised my awareness about something that i am in all likelihood spending too much energy ignoring or fighting. be it as it may, i sat down by the window still wrapped in a very thick and warm bathrobe, and looked out at the snow covered yard while thinking of you.

i called your father, he did not have my number. i had not talked with him in a few years. time heals a lot of wounds, and it has healed mine. we had a good conversation, and after all the years and all the differences, we remain your parents. it was good to feel that again, it was good to feel that i am not alone thinking of you. i had not felt this for a long while.

i was very far from imagining the kind of adventure that you have chosen as your life, and that is a very good thing: it is your life, it is your adventure.