it's been so long that it took me a while to sign in. wow. blogging now in between twittering and facebooking is like finding a "cassette" lodged between my ipod and my cd's (and when this did happen last week, all i could think was "antique!")

i just finished reading The Road. it took me months because it was so desolate and i knew there was no plot. but today while listening to the rain outside, hoping that the roof would not leak, it was the perfect book to read. it really struck me. first that in some future this may not be fiction at all. second that the world he created seemed so real it is as though he is looking around him and writing down what he sees. while i was reading and the world he was describing being so grim and hope-forsaken i could not grasp why these people were so bent on surviving. on grabbing hold of the last figment of life, for a life of misery? is it worth living if living is solely for survival? someone did point out to me that what we do now is no different, it is also living for survival, just in a different disguise. i'm not so sure about that..partly because i'm one of the privileged non-starving ones who actually has time to ponder these questions (basically asking these questions is a good indicator that i have the luxury of time and peace on my hands that juxtaposes the adrenaline and action-driven lifestyle of someone facing death at any moment..)
but 'survival'-maybe it not just about life and death-survival can mean success, recognition, wealth, love, the opposite of what we individually and very differently may perceive as death, or death of the soul and not necessarily the body.
this is turning a little boring i guess, isn't it? it has just been so long that i haven't read a book that left something in me. his writing makes me feel like i should just stop writing. it's that great. and yet of course, here i am writing. more like streaming tonight though.
lots of questions
good night