Mart-deBlog

Here is a fact about me: I'm quite possessed by my search for idealisms, be it by the sublime in music and film, perfection in language and story, the supreme philosophy, the ultimate in tree, garden, building, clothes. And here is another fact: I've been girlfriendless for almost 3 years now.
Now, I believe these facts go together. I mean, one reason that there has not been anyone is simply my stupid obsession with beauty, that ideal transcended beauty. You have to realize, here it is even worse than in Holland, as in Hong Kong there are models shining in my face at every corner, and some of them seriously take the air out of me: "She is it!" goes my twitching brain, "..." goes my thumping hart and "gottagottagotta have her!" goes my body. Unfortunately there are also these mirrors on every corner, again taking the air out of me: "HAHA" goes the brain, "MUHAHA" goes the hart and "You stupid pathetic moron, who do you think you are!!" goes my body. Then I went yesterday to this pretentious nightclub where many models of Hong Kong hang out, and indeed, some of them make me fall to bits, and indeed they don't even see me, and indeed I don't see any other girl than that one ideal girl. This is serious. Especially, because I know it, I have tried to rid myself of this stupidity but the urge for the ideal girl has the exact same source as my search in music, film and theory. There is a pattern in all the things I love and, whatever the medium, values just seem transgressive. In other words, if I stop being obsessed with model-beauty, it would kill my urge for that what makes me enjoy life and intensify my experiences. So, here I am, left with this mind-screwing conundrum: do my pleasures create the suffering; if I ever settle for less than I desire, would it blowup my drives and make me old and dull? I can't kill my search for ultimate beauty but then, I can't be alone either. Well, until I figure this out, I'll just try to hide in my pleasures. And away I go.