In a message dated 04/22/2000 5:37:22 PM Eastern Daylight Time,
[EMAIL PROTECTED] writes:
<< Your favourite virtue:
Your idea of happiness:
Your idea of misery:
If not yourself, who would you be?
Your favourite curse word:
Your most hated word:
Your favourite food or drink:
Your favourite poets:
Your favourite visual artists:
(well, a bit of artistic liscence above) >>
My friend tells the tale of an article she read in which a 6 year-old
Japanese girl new to American culture was asked by her teacher what her
favorite color was, and the child was stumped. Because the idea of favourites
didn't make sense to her. I can't say it makes sense to me either when I
think about it, though I know I've used the word.
My idea of happiness is not wanting to be anyone else, not wanting to be
anywhere else, and not wanting to be with anyone else other than who I am,
where I am and who I'm with at any given moment. My idea of ecstasy . . .
well, that's something else again. It can be as simple as a breeze at the
right moment under the right sky . . . or it can be more exotic synapse
adventures. Right now I'm listening to wild music and it's pretty ecstatic --
must be those endorphins from dancing around my kitchen.
My idea of misery is being impoverished, silenced and disappeared by military
force. Also, running out of toilet paper at 3am.
If I was not myself . . . it's not like WHO I'd like to be, it's like which
gene pools would I like to be a mix of . . .
Too bad Marcel didn't have a laptop. He could have written a longer piece.
BP
