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weekly ruminations and ideas (some of which are prematurely harvested) on compositional music, film and things i make in the kitchen—

an observation on the week as the most humane quanta of time:

it is a terribly easy thing for some to lose the habit of living. that daily sequence which the rest take as a given—even as a source of boastful complaint—can be for some (the all too eager) an obstacle to the future: a constant source of proof against that future. from my very own experience, and with the advice gleaned from half a shelf-full of the previous century’s French novelists, i am beginning to properly estimate just how much pain and suffering in the world is owed to young men who lose this habit. the habit, for example, of fussing over the price of day-old bread; joining in on the chirrup of complaints against the tardiness of the local public transit; replacing shoelaces just before they’re completely useless; taking seriously the universal mantra of “shut the fuck up and eat”—there is, thankfully, a never ending list of things to do in the meantime. a bottomless chest of bells and whistles to sound out whilst waiting for the new Jerusalem...or whatever other version of a grand social plan the poor gaunt fellow is fidgeting over. indeed, how inexhaustible the laundry list of things to do in the meantime (laundry! for example)—of course, the secret mission that even the the cheapest french novela leaves to the imagination is a kind of forgetting. one hopes that in this meantime the self-hypnosis conducted under the vistas of now might be enough to lull every dreamer away from the perhaps of tomorrow. consequently. consequently; consequently--there can be no better envelope of time for the delivery of this secret parcel: a week is precisely long enough for a brief epic, and brief enough for the long procession of absolutely nothing happening.

things i do when I’m not blogging: sweating (for no observable reason); completing a neuroscience/human biology degree at the university of toronto; compulsively checking my pockets to see if i’ve enough change for an americano; reading nietzsche and pretending it’s not life-changing; reading poetry; writing pawehtree 

molarewa@gmail.com