Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Quixotic Quests

Admitted or denied we are all stitched to a universal yarn of common want.

We are redundantly seduced by dazzling physical exteriors, charming manners, covetous status, sexual prowess and the probability of bliss in the arms of someone who is plagued by the same illness we do: the chase of something superior than what we have now.

That’s why we flock en masse with raging devotion to our most ardent religion: fairytale, Hollywood, and the unattainable ideals articulated by Abercrombie & Fitch. They preach the convenient gospel; the probability of happiness within our grasp. So we steer clear of reality. Reality is a great spoiler in a cosmos populated with sought-after archetypes of driving towards sunset-soaked horizons, the happy ever afters, the gaunt-cheeked Titian-lipped poster boy in the centerfold of Calvin Klein’s underwear campaign. Our very hopefulness captured in glossy images, stirring us into epidemic daydreams and predictable discontent.

Our ache remains: finding someone who will nullify our carnal cravings. Someone who will extinguish our need for hopeless aspirations. Someone who will gently remind us who we are and in the process lead us back into the unseen beauty of our fractured, mortal selves.

Yet our tragedy is not because we want to have our hungers and fires smothered. Our misfortune lies in the fact that we quickly overlook authenticity because as humans we are cursed with embryonic gift for trivial pursuits.

We seek fondness in the cruelty of strange sandy beaches, crowded bars, aloof dance floors, failing to see love staring back at us in the simplicity of unlikely places. Love is the temperate adoring eyes we fail to take heed in a Laundromat. Tenderness is that gaze of a stranger in speeding trains. Affection is something we stumble upon and ignore in the maze of groceries and terminals.

So we revel, intoxicated in fairytales, Hollywood and underwear ads.

Love is just around the corner. It’s us who refuse to see.

This is our tragedy, our common yarn of perpetual want.

Our familiar blindness, our hedonistic sadness .

~ ~ ~

Thank you boyd and antigonic for leaving comments in my warped journal, relieving me of the lingering paranoia that despite numerical evidence in my site counter there are other people stumbling into this blog aside from a loyal friend who keep on hitting the refresh button on the browser to raise the hit count and make me feel better.


Boyd said... really works I guess. (This sounds more like a testimonial than a comment). Plus, "Loud Cloud" sounds like a title of a Moony song....

Seriously, don't you think that the world has mellowed when it comes to the worship of absolute glamour and beauty? It's in to be green now; that's the trend. People would rather be caught drinking soymilk in their trucks running on ethanol than being beside Paris Hilton calling redheads firecrotch. And then there's the global campaign against size zero models.

And then again, I might not be thinking straight. I might not be relevant. I don't know. I'm sleepy. But you're right. We all want to be what we think is better. Not bad if it makes you guiltlessly happy. Not good if you hurt yourself and others along the way.

indigo snow said...

it has been hypothesized that the world will reach a saturation point in celebrity worship but don't hold your breath yet.

the 'green' movement is rampant, especially in industrial design and architecture which now put emphasis on sustainability. it's somehow comforting that consumerism is putting value on environmental ethics and responsibility but it's a far cry when it comes to human dynamics. majority still want what they see on dolce & gabbana underwear ads than say botero canvassses.

you are right, it's not entirely a bad thing. admiring beauty is one thing. obsessing over it is another.

there's always a room in our hearts for both inhabitants of regularville and the prada runway.