a counsellor’s lament, 2

The retro trench coats and firearms also suggest a sort of eternal recurrence, and as Looper’s plot gets more complex, its central question simplifies: If we can’t fix our mistakes, can we at least make sure we don’t repeat the same ones over and over again?”

you can’t go home again, or is it,

You, can’t go home, again or

or, well, – it doesn’t matter , it doesn’t really

matter

that is what my wrestler, The Rock, says, it doesn’t matter

I think he got it from Albert Camus in his novel The Stranger, from the first chapter,

Meursault, our first person narrator,

‘He suggested I should go to the refectory for dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. Then he proposed bringing me a mug of café au lait. As I am very partial to café au lait I said, “Thanks,” and a few minutes later he came back with a tray. I drank the coffee, and then I wanted a cigarette. But I wasn’t sure if I should smoke, under the circumstances—in Mother’s presence. I thought it over; really, it didn’t seem to matter, so I offered the keeper a cigarette, and we both smoked.’

it didn’t seem to matter, that mother died or that I smoked by her closed coffin,

the counsellor’s word or looks,

my thoughts, or feelings, my assumptions, or expectations, have no matter

my commas, my pauses, all really don’t matter

people need to hope, to believe that their words from themselves to a counsellor, or from a counsellor to the heater, or the group have meaning, but

as the flick Looper tells us, we can’t fix our mistakes but we can break the hamster’s endless, running circles /

I stop feeling; and so, stop making the same mistakes over and over… most, all, of mine are always on, turning, over and over, so if this counsellor can help anyone, even themselves, then stop speaking and, …it will be….

over, turn it over,

overflow

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