Here's a clever little strip I "stumbled" upon - check it out.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Settling for Novel Familiarity: Part II - Sorting Through the Armor
Armed with a dirty chai and a new, fitting waistcoat allowing me to feel a tightness around every breath, I sit down to make something of my thoughts.
I am a glorified receptionist.
I'm redesigning an excel document that lists the prices we charge for the various room items when they go missing or are damaged; a hypoallergenic fiber-fill pillow, oneida glass tumblers, sunbeam iron, andis hair dryer, hand towel, bath mat, king low-profile down blanket, citrus stripe decorative pillow--you name it.
Now charging people that never showed up for their guaranteed reservations. Damn anyone that wants to fake us out thinking we'll be overbooked when we could have easily sold the room to someone actually coming for the room at a much higher rate. Bah!
tHE fEELING OF lOSTnESS iS THE oNLY oNE yOU FEEL YOU CAN tAKE wITH yOU. Where ever you may go, ...you're unable to hold on to that sentiment of home, of the people you love but can't come to terms with it - but that uncertainty/fear/lostness is so nicely packed portably into that vacuumed niche of a soulless center you call a heart that you cling to it like some child-scribed pointless letter or plastic toy plane.
I've decided I want to grow a beard. But first I need to make an appointment with a dermatologist to figure out why I have little patches of hairlessness across my face that keep such a goal impossible.
Tension, Balance, Brunch!
I've realized in a slightly awkward, hung over tiger, tiger, burning bright moment that I have a severe lack of balance in a particular area at the moment in my life - that needs attention.
"So what are we doing tonight?" There was a time when I was used to hearing this every afternoon. After a sufficient number of classes had been attended, and there were no exams the next day, this quandry would always linger thick in the air, you could sense it on any fall day just like these with everyone milling about with an extra dose of certainty as classes ended. There'd always be something to do and always be people to do it with-pun intended. Always some trouble to get into or some "societal" function to attend, inspect and approve of or deny. The best were when we threw our own parties. Or...when I threw mine. (Calling forth a tangential reverie for another time, but back to the point:) Social interaction. It's currently non-existent. My neglect for this facet of a "healthy existence" (ha!) I have sudddenly realized had become a huge detriment. I become distant and longing in both work and when with Jimmy for no apparent reason, and not because of either of them...but I think because I begin to feel that lack of balance.
On the other hand, I'm afraid...with the non-stop existence in which I currently reside...that if I tried to allocate my time to anything else...those areas in which I'm currently dedicated would certainly falter. Perhaps I need to begin searching for an alternate career choice. Or more simply- a different job. This certainly isn't the place I saw myself 14 months ago nor is it necessarily the place I see myself 14 months from now. But here lies the problem: I don't know where I DO see myself at any time other than the past. I don't even know how to SEE MYSELF period half the time. I look in the reflection of the darkened subway train window and stare at my reflection as it's broken up by blurred cars with strangers I dream of being and platforms with deteriorating walls and people. I think about what I did wrong today, rather than speaking, but I wonder what could I have spoken. What could I have spoken? I imagined an ad campaign for myself walking through Port Authority staring at a wall of tarnished bronze: an image of myself with my hand held out holding this jumbled, muddled ball of the world and everything that I pride myself on seeing, observing-- but it's just that, observations. Beautiful and worthy of something. But Passive, ceaseless, inactive observations. The tagline being something along the lines of "So what are you going to do with it all?" What are you going to do with all this?
Courageously putting yourself into new situations and being please when you get glimpses of familiarness (compare/contrast). But rather than clinging to old-taught methods of thought - everything in relation to something else, how can you begin to see something in and of itself? Letting yourself be taken by a situation or place the way you put a heap of film scores on shuffle and let them decide your mood for the day. There's a strange contradiction of terms between your obvious and not so obvious submissiveness and then the seeming lack of assertiveness. Which leaves us where exactly?
Let's blow this joint.
I am a glorified receptionist.
I'm redesigning an excel document that lists the prices we charge for the various room items when they go missing or are damaged; a hypoallergenic fiber-fill pillow, oneida glass tumblers, sunbeam iron, andis hair dryer, hand towel, bath mat, king low-profile down blanket, citrus stripe decorative pillow--you name it.
Now charging people that never showed up for their guaranteed reservations. Damn anyone that wants to fake us out thinking we'll be overbooked when we could have easily sold the room to someone actually coming for the room at a much higher rate. Bah!
tHE fEELING OF lOSTnESS iS THE oNLY oNE yOU FEEL YOU CAN tAKE wITH yOU. Where ever you may go, ...you're unable to hold on to that sentiment of home, of the people you love but can't come to terms with it - but that uncertainty/fear/lostness is so nicely packed portably into that vacuumed niche of a soulless center you call a heart that you cling to it like some child-scribed pointless letter or plastic toy plane.
I've decided I want to grow a beard. But first I need to make an appointment with a dermatologist to figure out why I have little patches of hairlessness across my face that keep such a goal impossible.
Tension, Balance, Brunch!
I've realized in a slightly awkward, hung over tiger, tiger, burning bright moment that I have a severe lack of balance in a particular area at the moment in my life - that needs attention.
"So what are we doing tonight?" There was a time when I was used to hearing this every afternoon. After a sufficient number of classes had been attended, and there were no exams the next day, this quandry would always linger thick in the air, you could sense it on any fall day just like these with everyone milling about with an extra dose of certainty as classes ended. There'd always be something to do and always be people to do it with-pun intended. Always some trouble to get into or some "societal" function to attend, inspect and approve of or deny. The best were when we threw our own parties. Or...when I threw mine. (Calling forth a tangential reverie for another time, but back to the point:) Social interaction. It's currently non-existent. My neglect for this facet of a "healthy existence" (ha!) I have sudddenly realized had become a huge detriment. I become distant and longing in both work and when with Jimmy for no apparent reason, and not because of either of them...but I think because I begin to feel that lack of balance.
On the other hand, I'm afraid...with the non-stop existence in which I currently reside...that if I tried to allocate my time to anything else...those areas in which I'm currently dedicated would certainly falter. Perhaps I need to begin searching for an alternate career choice. Or more simply- a different job. This certainly isn't the place I saw myself 14 months ago nor is it necessarily the place I see myself 14 months from now. But here lies the problem: I don't know where I DO see myself at any time other than the past. I don't even know how to SEE MYSELF period half the time. I look in the reflection of the darkened subway train window and stare at my reflection as it's broken up by blurred cars with strangers I dream of being and platforms with deteriorating walls and people. I think about what I did wrong today, rather than speaking, but I wonder what could I have spoken. What could I have spoken? I imagined an ad campaign for myself walking through Port Authority staring at a wall of tarnished bronze: an image of myself with my hand held out holding this jumbled, muddled ball of the world and everything that I pride myself on seeing, observing-- but it's just that, observations. Beautiful and worthy of something. But Passive, ceaseless, inactive observations. The tagline being something along the lines of "So what are you going to do with it all?" What are you going to do with all this?
Courageously putting yourself into new situations and being please when you get glimpses of familiarness (compare/contrast). But rather than clinging to old-taught methods of thought - everything in relation to something else, how can you begin to see something in and of itself? Letting yourself be taken by a situation or place the way you put a heap of film scores on shuffle and let them decide your mood for the day. There's a strange contradiction of terms between your obvious and not so obvious submissiveness and then the seeming lack of assertiveness. Which leaves us where exactly?
Let's blow this joint.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Settling for Novel Familiarity: Part I - The Glorious Impediment
High falutin' subject lines and titles always forebode an unfulfilling end/diatribe/paragraph/start.
In short, a draft.
at some point in describing how the area in front of the bakery cafe and the host stand as well as behind needed a sweep and mop to a new host, I christened the curve of granite "The Glorious Impediment".
I intended to go to Pier One (okay, the start already is petty - but nevertheless, a start)... to settle on a vase and decorative not-too-fake-looking floral arrangement for the hall table I had bought and built (walmart $100) so that our future returned housephone would have somewhere glamorous to rest. It should be noted, however, that I had already been to the store in the Plaza twice in the past week for the very same purpose with no result. Their inventory had doubtfully changed.
Along the way I pass the hair cutter/salon that I had on at least two occasions submitted my scalp to with hesistation. This hesistation based in the facet of complexes that deals with my inability to settle. Not settle as in give in to something, submit, relinquish care and control-- but more like relax a bit, stop shaking the bingo spinner bin thingy, the tacky desk toy with floating bubbles, allow for a restful peace to observe the okayness in something you're certain is cheating you out of something.
So this is what I did. The place had just expanded hours to be open on sunday; and the long-haired hippy-looking owner was intently concentrating on some minor construction project to put handrail-like bars around the waiting area wall for stylistic means. This was all out of sight from where I sat down in the stylist's chair, but I heard him describing in concentrated detail with mild profanity the details of his work as he went along to the two children that had accompanied my stylist, their mother, to work. I wasn't able to determine if the stylist and the owner were together or not. This was Sakinak-- something or other (I detest not remembering her name)--but the same gentle limited-english-proficiency woman that had cut my hair the past two times. Nothing too impressive, just a trim, short on the sides, long on top. Usually applying too much sticky mousse at the end and making the front spiked up like a teen from the 90s. But she gave a great massage as an added bonus while I sat in the chair each time she finished cutting. I was still undecided about the $25 cost. We engaged in smallish conversation, when I could understand her, mostly smiling and nodding. I could feel the tingling relaxed feeling I often get when in a new situation or someone is speaking or describing something and I kind of zone out without stopping listening to them, but just the sound of their voice and the good relaxed feeling. Not to mention the fact that she was tending to my hair. Must be the gay in me, loving to be primped and attended to.
She told me how she had stayed there last week working until 10 at night because the guy had asked her to help paint the walls. At that moment, I noticed that the light fixtures between each of the angled mirrors denoting stylist stations had been updated. They were simple sconces with a square of transluscent marbled texture complemented by her cloudy wall of gray. Below the "chair rail" molding (can't recall the proper term) about four feet off the floor was a tiled wallpaper of white with randomly imprinted bathroom words like "bubbles", "air", "refresh", "relax".
A random beatles song I couldn't place was playing on the radio and I felt like I was in a glimpse of Across the Universe. I dub thee "Prudence". The man working took a 10 foot lenght of pipe outside and balanced it across two trash cans to sit on it and straighten it out. At one point he had attracted the attention of the Indian gentleman that runs the GNC next door and brought him in showing off his renovations, explaining how the plaza was on its way to a huge growth with the new businesses moving in and how his various modifications would allow for specific psychological pleasantries that would keep his shop up to speed with the future development.
The woman cutting my hair had a habit of bowing with every gentle gesture for me to move to the chair to wash my hair and back and even moreso when I paid and came back to give her the tip.
I think all these senses, the massage, the fact that I had gotten my dirty chai beforehand and felt warm and caffeinated despite my lack of food intake, had made for a detail-worn experience culminating in putting my bulky peacoat back on and strolling back out into the clean, brisk cold envying my boyfriend for his strike and his full-on paid-for massage.
and now, and now...I can't even concentrate on a simple conversation spinning my apple around on the desk and all the attempted planning and timing and when I'm leaving and traffic and blah* - I'm sorry - I know this is bad foreboding, this lack in me. And I need it to change-- I need me to change--to make things work.
There was a good feeling today - it was coming from David Blue and this idea of the "eternal extra", from Vanessa Carlton played as wakeup music and stuck in my head all day, from noticing that a more successful fellow blogger had found a new motivation, and from seeing this tree shadowed on North Bergen high school on my way to work the way I used to say the most random things could bring me up out of a fowl mood, like a tree blowing in the wind... and also there was this pipe that had burst on 77th on the way down the hill, that was shooting up a great stream of water straight up into the air right in front of this perfectly yellowed tree. I think all this, these thoughts of going somewhere and of a unfogged determination to find what it is I need to be doing (a "prime" passing by?)--made me come to this point--with an eager determination to encapsulate and preserve these sentiments.
later:
blast of sugar high from a warmed up cinnamon roll and apple, only thing I've managed to get around to eating all day. has allowed me to get through this, force myself to complete a thought. both phones on either side of the monitor are flashing to answer their ever-filling box of messages and still plenty of day work. Thank you sugar and self-motivation.
In short, a draft.
at some point in describing how the area in front of the bakery cafe and the host stand as well as behind needed a sweep and mop to a new host, I christened the curve of granite "The Glorious Impediment".
I intended to go to Pier One (okay, the start already is petty - but nevertheless, a start)... to settle on a vase and decorative not-too-fake-looking floral arrangement for the hall table I had bought and built (walmart $100) so that our future returned housephone would have somewhere glamorous to rest. It should be noted, however, that I had already been to the store in the Plaza twice in the past week for the very same purpose with no result. Their inventory had doubtfully changed.
Along the way I pass the hair cutter/salon that I had on at least two occasions submitted my scalp to with hesistation. This hesistation based in the facet of complexes that deals with my inability to settle. Not settle as in give in to something, submit, relinquish care and control-- but more like relax a bit, stop shaking the bingo spinner bin thingy, the tacky desk toy with floating bubbles, allow for a restful peace to observe the okayness in something you're certain is cheating you out of something.
So this is what I did. The place had just expanded hours to be open on sunday; and the long-haired hippy-looking owner was intently concentrating on some minor construction project to put handrail-like bars around the waiting area wall for stylistic means. This was all out of sight from where I sat down in the stylist's chair, but I heard him describing in concentrated detail with mild profanity the details of his work as he went along to the two children that had accompanied my stylist, their mother, to work. I wasn't able to determine if the stylist and the owner were together or not. This was Sakinak-- something or other (I detest not remembering her name)--but the same gentle limited-english-proficiency woman that had cut my hair the past two times. Nothing too impressive, just a trim, short on the sides, long on top. Usually applying too much sticky mousse at the end and making the front spiked up like a teen from the 90s. But she gave a great massage as an added bonus while I sat in the chair each time she finished cutting. I was still undecided about the $25 cost. We engaged in smallish conversation, when I could understand her, mostly smiling and nodding. I could feel the tingling relaxed feeling I often get when in a new situation or someone is speaking or describing something and I kind of zone out without stopping listening to them, but just the sound of their voice and the good relaxed feeling. Not to mention the fact that she was tending to my hair. Must be the gay in me, loving to be primped and attended to.
She told me how she had stayed there last week working until 10 at night because the guy had asked her to help paint the walls. At that moment, I noticed that the light fixtures between each of the angled mirrors denoting stylist stations had been updated. They were simple sconces with a square of transluscent marbled texture complemented by her cloudy wall of gray. Below the "chair rail" molding (can't recall the proper term) about four feet off the floor was a tiled wallpaper of white with randomly imprinted bathroom words like "bubbles", "air", "refresh", "relax".
A random beatles song I couldn't place was playing on the radio and I felt like I was in a glimpse of Across the Universe. I dub thee "Prudence". The man working took a 10 foot lenght of pipe outside and balanced it across two trash cans to sit on it and straighten it out. At one point he had attracted the attention of the Indian gentleman that runs the GNC next door and brought him in showing off his renovations, explaining how the plaza was on its way to a huge growth with the new businesses moving in and how his various modifications would allow for specific psychological pleasantries that would keep his shop up to speed with the future development.
The woman cutting my hair had a habit of bowing with every gentle gesture for me to move to the chair to wash my hair and back and even moreso when I paid and came back to give her the tip.
I think all these senses, the massage, the fact that I had gotten my dirty chai beforehand and felt warm and caffeinated despite my lack of food intake, had made for a detail-worn experience culminating in putting my bulky peacoat back on and strolling back out into the clean, brisk cold envying my boyfriend for his strike and his full-on paid-for massage.
and now, and now...I can't even concentrate on a simple conversation spinning my apple around on the desk and all the attempted planning and timing and when I'm leaving and traffic and blah* - I'm sorry - I know this is bad foreboding, this lack in me. And I need it to change-- I need me to change--to make things work.
There was a good feeling today - it was coming from David Blue and this idea of the "eternal extra", from Vanessa Carlton played as wakeup music and stuck in my head all day, from noticing that a more successful fellow blogger had found a new motivation, and from seeing this tree shadowed on North Bergen high school on my way to work the way I used to say the most random things could bring me up out of a fowl mood, like a tree blowing in the wind... and also there was this pipe that had burst on 77th on the way down the hill, that was shooting up a great stream of water straight up into the air right in front of this perfectly yellowed tree. I think all this, these thoughts of going somewhere and of a unfogged determination to find what it is I need to be doing (a "prime" passing by?)--made me come to this point--with an eager determination to encapsulate and preserve these sentiments.
later:
blast of sugar high from a warmed up cinnamon roll and apple, only thing I've managed to get around to eating all day. has allowed me to get through this, force myself to complete a thought. both phones on either side of the monitor are flashing to answer their ever-filling box of messages and still plenty of day work. Thank you sugar and self-motivation.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
up to the plate
balance
how do i fix things, learn to do something besides disappoint - a best friend
how do i balance, not put all my forces into, one big thing, such passion, but too much and it diffuses? fizzles out? misdirected.
and work - its about time you began to manage. sure the little projects- the cleaning up and streamlining and brainstorming creative alternatives... and blah. The details. The people are more important...than.... than you.
..or maybe just take an ADD test online, make a doc's appointment, and setup yourself up for slight brain numbing medication for life?
can you step up to the plate?
i love you! i love you! i love you! how could you take this for granted?
how can i now - how can i not be spewing poetry - i'm happy for god's sake! how can that feel so subdued? how do you still seem to maintain control? let yourself go? "cus it's all in the hands of a bitter, bitter man..."
I want this. I want to be broken, not the state of broken, but be broken upon/by something... him. I want the beauty of the whole thing be continually too much and for me to not run for a change to stay the pain and the violin strings pacing to mount til it's too much. I know so much trapped inside, and always forget that no one's seen but a flicker.
I can't stop.. It seems that stopping to think is always what does me in.
"say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in."
Sunday, June 17, 2007
This Space, This Guy
i stand on a precipice, i struggle to keep my balance, i open myself, i open myself, one stitch at a time, finally yes, finally now, finally something takes me away, finally free, finally he can cut throught these strings and open my wings
lest i forget, the past week has been...
Friday8 - ty's, walking looking for greenwich, the bench, the shop windows, cupcakes, up westside, foggy bridge, driving home (via car)
Saturday9- Julio haircut and eyebrows!, (...the rest????)
Monday11- "The Space" Day: into city too early, Virgin/Element looking for cooler clothes, the shopping headache, on the 7 to P.S.1, modern art perspectives, flies, escape to the beautiful day, up and down Jackson Ave, cat piss, Creating A Space, the rooftop, clockwork, chandelier, a forced birch forest, Grand Central secrets, Umbrella Shopping, Home Depot Color Search, Meetup with Jonathan at Joe's (Papp!) Pub, Florence Henderson, he's off to bed, train home
Tuesday12 - WORK, 9:45 with bells on, starbucks and a flower, astrology and a wicked little photo, (first night over, via train)
Wednesday13 - train home, WORK (Joy training) .......the txts/conversation:
1:43AM- <<<"Hey Matt I've been trying to say something, thats not easy..." (talk on phone)
2:05AM- <<<"I will understand if that was our last conversion"
2:08AM- >>>"Don't be like that! Im sry i giggle- its me overcome with how much i like u. It scares me. But it wont just change w the flip of a switch. Its weird for me too."
2:09AM- >>>"Do you have AIM? Get online." (talk on phone)
2:32AM- <<<"Besitos"
Thursday14 -
1:55PM- >>>"When can I see u? I'm off tomorrow."
6:22PM- >>>"I want to come over tnite but i know u wont get any sleep cus well want to talk all night."
6:33PM- >>>"Then im there. wat time should i come?"
7:07PM- >>>"Can i bring u dinner?"
chaos at work, Brandy, Target shopping, Malecon, Driving down Broadway, DINNER, Serious conversation (over, car)
Friday15 - Drive into work, Jimmy with car, Brandy's Training, Best Buy, My Place, Burger King, Setting up stereo with minor construction, At home (not mine) alone, Planning B'fast, CD collection, late dinner, (over, car)
Saturday16 - Breakfast at 6:30AM, Shower Television, Drive to work, B'fast sandwich sans swiss!, Drive home>>>nap all day, AUDIT shift and Will dillemma (car)
Sunday17 - sleep til 1:30PM, *present*
shrimp dumplings and shower television talk shows
...and when I'm away, the strangest thing, it's not remembering, but I can't quite grasp his face - picture it as perfectly as it is in my mind. I aim for it and keep slipping off of it like soap in the shower, and zooming in to the closest recognizeable features of some other stranger. But then I step back and think of a photograph. Profile pictures on bmb, my first looks at him, or even my pictures from the adventurous weekend. Here in this two dimensional world I can see him again. And it's not the same. I realize I've become so accustomed to staring at men through a computer screen--knowing men through a computer screen (though not always), that my mind more comfortably grasps the two dimensional. It's like the real picture of him, enhanced and flourished by the prescence of the present, can't be stored in my camera or even in writing...just yet.
It's because there's nothing that can make me capture it and tie it down to a memory. This feeling - "so sudden and new, I felt the moment I laid eyes on you, my pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face if flushing, what is this feeling!?"
...and when I'm away, I want nothing more than to be back there.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
Everybody Digs
From Sam Ash to Colony to Bleeker Street Records to A.O.C. to the Pier to B&N and back to Sam Ash to Lego ecstasy. All in all, a welcome reprieve from the mundane.
Feels good to finally spend "a day" with someone. Thanks to all those who contributed--from French cafe seizure patients to groovy record store salesmen to non-Brazilian, Brazilian music guitar players. ;) Thanks for the vinyl!
...Details on your 10 o'clock news.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
DREAM
at work - housekeeping sort of room, rushing about, reorganizing the place - mostly guys though - boys rather - manager one above me, erhard's age, we're milling about - get some boys to help setup the
"____" board....made up of corkboard pieces? everything seems really flimsy - i wander somewhere else - it's a mad rush - manager calls me over to look at some things - the whole dream is about trying to remember - on "luz's" desk - he has loads of stuff laid out - then the "guest" we've been so nervously waiting arrives> Monique like - but not her, in face the otehr - a mix between Monique and Nicole i thik - everyone's nervous - we sitt at a table right by the sink inm the corner where the "extra hand" normallly goes. She asks for water, a very very specific kind. i immediately say no problem, manager 1 looks aghast. i run out.... thinking where to get it "__ pak" i try to remmeber the name.... the convienience store down the street ( a new york street) ...upon exiting the housekeeping room, i'm in the hallway which has become a bookstore magazine section..... i become preoccupied with my regular stuff....flaunt, national geographic... trying to remember the water name... to do it all at once.... wondering how much time i have... i see a "werewolf" appear on several different covers....young, cute..... hauntingly glaring back.... on one too many covers of endless magazines > paste and that one movie effects....i open one...and it's a very specific character/boy from either a common personals webpage that had somehow become famous....but upon reading the caption, it said Seacaucus Beer and Wine Festival (secaucus reading/feeling like Melbourne) ...i keep looking.... a friend shows up to chat.... from the left..... a woman comes in the door with her pet sheep from the right..... i think a sheep would be a cool pet until i get tired of hearing it bleat as they walk by ..... i keep rushing about, by this time the hall has expanded to a full bookstore..... i'm rushign about, "stumble" upon the werewolf lore section...see some interesting books, some gay-ish store attendants, older men hovering to see if i need help..... trying to remember the list i'm building in my head, i already have a stack of magazines ....flaunt somehow disappears.... two national geographics which i go back to try to get ones with less-dogeared covers..... then gabe and "__" (michael) shows up - not hte real ones - being chatty ( micheal somehow hidden behind gabe, cant' quite see his face) .... i'm rushinga bout nervous....trying to remember the water's name.... and get all teh books i want..... there's this one young adult book, (eragon in size and degree), with a single title main character's name.... dark blue cover, thick paperback, on the cover is a picture of the main character, facing away but turned to look back, his body is the same blue as the cover and he has long hair drawn into a pony tail, a bow and arrow or some equivalent native tool in his hand, the weird part is when you realize further down he has another ponytail where you realize it's a horses' mane, and this boy is a centaur of sorts.....another transformation literature....excited u intend to go back and grab it, or u do...and keep rushing about - --- interrupted wakeup *aLARM*
"____" board....made up of corkboard pieces? everything seems really flimsy - i wander somewhere else - it's a mad rush - manager calls me over to look at some things - the whole dream is about trying to remember - on "luz's" desk - he has loads of stuff laid out - then the "guest" we've been so nervously waiting arrives> Monique like - but not her, in face the otehr - a mix between Monique and Nicole i thik - everyone's nervous - we sitt at a table right by the sink inm the corner where the "extra hand" normallly goes. She asks for water, a very very specific kind. i immediately say no problem, manager 1 looks aghast. i run out.... thinking where to get it "__ pak" i try to remmeber the name.... the convienience store down the street ( a new york street) ...upon exiting the housekeeping room, i'm in the hallway which has become a bookstore magazine section..... i become preoccupied with my regular stuff....flaunt, national geographic... trying to remember the water name... to do it all at once.... wondering how much time i have... i see a "werewolf" appear on several different covers....young, cute..... hauntingly glaring back.... on one too many covers of endless magazines > paste and that one movie effects....i open one...and it's a very specific character/boy from either a common personals webpage that had somehow become famous....but upon reading the caption, it said Seacaucus Beer and Wine Festival (secaucus reading/feeling like Melbourne) ...i keep looking.... a friend shows up to chat.... from the left..... a woman comes in the door with her pet sheep from the right..... i think a sheep would be a cool pet until i get tired of hearing it bleat as they walk by ..... i keep rushing about, by this time the hall has expanded to a full bookstore..... i'm rushign about, "stumble" upon the werewolf lore section...see some interesting books, some gay-ish store attendants, older men hovering to see if i need help..... trying to remember the list i'm building in my head, i already have a stack of magazines ....flaunt somehow disappears.... two national geographics which i go back to try to get ones with less-dogeared covers..... then gabe and "__" (michael) shows up - not hte real ones - being chatty ( micheal somehow hidden behind gabe, cant' quite see his face) .... i'm rushinga bout nervous....trying to remember the water's name.... and get all teh books i want..... there's this one young adult book, (eragon in size and degree), with a single title main character's name.... dark blue cover, thick paperback, on the cover is a picture of the main character, facing away but turned to look back, his body is the same blue as the cover and he has long hair drawn into a pony tail, a bow and arrow or some equivalent native tool in his hand, the weird part is when you realize further down he has another ponytail where you realize it's a horses' mane, and this boy is a centaur of sorts.....another transformation literature....excited u intend to go back and grab it, or u do...and keep rushing about - --- interrupted wakeup *aLARM*
Monday, April 2, 2007
the future has arrived
“Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things… and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.”
–Walt Disney
Perception
THE VOICE YOU HEAR WHEN YOU READ SILENTLY
is not silent, it is a speaking-
out-loud voice in your head: it is spoken,
a voice is saying it
as you read. It is the writer's words,
of course, in a literary sense
his or her "voice" but the sound
of that voice is the sound of your voice.
Not the sound of the friends you know
or the sound of a tape played back
but your voice
caught in the dark cathedral
of your skull, your voice heard
by an internal ear informed by internal abstracts
and what you know by feeling,
having felt. It is your voice
saying, for example, the word "barn"
that the writer wrote
but the "barn" you say is a barn you know or knew. The voice
in your head, speaking as you read,
never says anything neutrally--some people
hated the barn they knew,
some people love the barn they know
so you hear the word loaded
and a sensory constellation
is lit: horse-gnawed stalls,
hayloft, black heat tape wrapping
a water pipe, a slippery
spilled chirr of oats from a split sack
the bony, filthy haunches of cows...
And "barn" is only a noun--no verb
or subject has entered into the sentence yet!
The voice you hear when you read to yourself
is the clearest voice: you speak it
speaking to you.
- Thomas Lux
is not silent, it is a speaking-
out-loud voice in your head: it is spoken,
a voice is saying it
as you read. It is the writer's words,
of course, in a literary sense
his or her "voice" but the sound
of that voice is the sound of your voice.
Not the sound of the friends you know
or the sound of a tape played back
but your voice
caught in the dark cathedral
of your skull, your voice heard
by an internal ear informed by internal abstracts
and what you know by feeling,
having felt. It is your voice
saying, for example, the word "barn"
that the writer wrote
but the "barn" you say is a barn you know or knew. The voice
in your head, speaking as you read,
never says anything neutrally--some people
hated the barn they knew,
some people love the barn they know
so you hear the word loaded
and a sensory constellation
is lit: horse-gnawed stalls,
hayloft, black heat tape wrapping
a water pipe, a slippery
spilled chirr of oats from a split sack
the bony, filthy haunches of cows...
And "barn" is only a noun--no verb
or subject has entered into the sentence yet!
The voice you hear when you read to yourself
is the clearest voice: you speak it
speaking to you.
- Thomas Lux
Sticky 4/2: Now Caught Up
i haven't even showered yet.
i just want someone to know that.
i can't stand these continual wooded tree fallings.
a person who's existence is majorly based on the tension between those things that are expressed and those that are not. the tension.
all these variables that don't seem to have a source.
how to know if you sing well or not, for example.
or if you look good. or any number of random mostly indeterminable things. you hold yourself back from 'getting involved' with these variables - of confronting them. of having to face the challenge of resolving the tension between that which is determined and that which YOU determine.
"There was a sudden and overwhelming feeling of becoming."
My pleasure.
i just want someone to know that.
i can't stand these continual wooded tree fallings.
a person who's existence is majorly based on the tension between those things that are expressed and those that are not. the tension.
all these variables that don't seem to have a source.
how to know if you sing well or not, for example.
or if you look good. or any number of random mostly indeterminable things. you hold yourself back from 'getting involved' with these variables - of confronting them. of having to face the challenge of resolving the tension between that which is determined and that which YOU determine.
"There was a sudden and overwhelming feeling of becoming."
My pleasure.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sticky 3/28
..but what if there were only one game?
i had gotten tired of looking in the usual places. i knew now that it was something different that i was out for. it was the end result of the recipe that was my timiditiy and the gaping holes i felt within that i knew only a bigger man could fill.
"they say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea"
what if you found someone that wasn't seeking continuous conquest, but seeking you. or seeking what you could become. and what you could make them become.
I've spent the entire day thinking about your note....
and yet i must say straightaway ...
you would do me wrong Heir Steifel to read into my refusal any lack of affection, on the contrary, ...
should you like, i am ready to..
and also that too rigorous a condemnation of your current misfortune could have the gravest possible effect....
still, heir stiefel, one thing in your letter disturbed me, your, what shall we call it--veiled threat--that should escape not be possible, you would take your own life.
you swirl around in this milieu> trying to wrap your mind around it all and grasp some formula to make sense of it all - 'skinny guys desirable when young, but become undesireable when old.... thick guys undesireable when young, but desireable when old" ... it's totally crazy you know......then why....
what about the ego? the idea being: to successfully impress someone...and not bring someone down in your attempts to converse with them. to do this you have to be in a reasonably decent mood. and what if the only way to put you in a reasonably decent mood is to have someone show interest in you, thereby raising your ego somewhat. at that point you have the energy to push forward with more upbeat "courting". thereby impressing or either raising the ego of the other.
((Not one conquest, but continuous conquest, from one victory to another, for it was the conquest alone that was important and never the prize.))
i had gotten tired of looking in the usual places. i knew now that it was something different that i was out for. it was the end result of the recipe that was my timiditiy and the gaping holes i felt within that i knew only a bigger man could fill.
"they say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea"
what if you found someone that wasn't seeking continuous conquest, but seeking you. or seeking what you could become. and what you could make them become.
I've spent the entire day thinking about your note....
and yet i must say straightaway ...
you would do me wrong Heir Steifel to read into my refusal any lack of affection, on the contrary, ...
should you like, i am ready to..
and also that too rigorous a condemnation of your current misfortune could have the gravest possible effect....
still, heir stiefel, one thing in your letter disturbed me, your, what shall we call it--veiled threat--that should escape not be possible, you would take your own life.
you swirl around in this milieu> trying to wrap your mind around it all and grasp some formula to make sense of it all - 'skinny guys desirable when young, but become undesireable when old.... thick guys undesireable when young, but desireable when old" ... it's totally crazy you know......then why....
what about the ego? the idea being: to successfully impress someone...and not bring someone down in your attempts to converse with them. to do this you have to be in a reasonably decent mood. and what if the only way to put you in a reasonably decent mood is to have someone show interest in you, thereby raising your ego somewhat. at that point you have the energy to push forward with more upbeat "courting". thereby impressing or either raising the ego of the other.
((Not one conquest, but continuous conquest, from one victory to another, for it was the conquest alone that was important and never the prize.))
Monday, March 26, 2007
something just for you
One moment he was exhaustible, drinking in the world around him as if it were so much water placed there for the sole purpose of quenching his thirst, and the next moment he was a child, closing his eyes, the wide smile still on his face, ready to sleep, to sleep and build energy for the next ecstasy that he was sure was in store for him. His feelings ruled him completely; he was savage and undisciplined. The contrast between Matthew and himself at the same age appalled him. He had been restrained, quiet, and disciplined; compared to him, Matthew was a kind of angel-devil on a perpetual emotional drunk.
From Finistère, Fritz Peters
From Finistère, Fritz Peters
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Sticky 3/25
what is life without conviction - what is any action at all without belief in it
i have to get out of this dump > i never feel good when in dirty unorganized surroundings >
i have to get out of this dump > i never feel good when in dirty unorganized surroundings >
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Sticky 3/21
DREAM: Total TAP
first i'm teaching a class by myself - amerisuites employees, in a small meeting room, moving stuff around, getting ready, music, peek outside, some corp higher ups meeting outside, keep the door closed....people trickle in and i think about the plan for the day.... at some point morphs into a larger classroom/group, jennifer comes in and "helps"/takes over... bri and other old friends in class now... younger... wonder if she's gonna show them my video.... i come up to demonstrate with jennifer a few beginning steps... across the floor action.... a very busy dream
first i'm teaching a class by myself - amerisuites employees, in a small meeting room, moving stuff around, getting ready, music, peek outside, some corp higher ups meeting outside, keep the door closed....people trickle in and i think about the plan for the day.... at some point morphs into a larger classroom/group, jennifer comes in and "helps"/takes over... bri and other old friends in class now... younger... wonder if she's gonna show them my video.... i come up to demonstrate with jennifer a few beginning steps... across the floor action.... a very busy dream
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Sticky 3/18
ejac llllll
i'm easily smitten - with you - write an interesting blog, throw up some artzy pics, graphic design, a few similar obsessions and you got me with those deep set scrappy dogs eye -
morbid morbid morbid imagination - what is that about?
i'm easily smitten - with you - write an interesting blog, throw up some artzy pics, graphic design, a few similar obsessions and you got me with those deep set scrappy dogs eye -
morbid morbid morbid imagination - what is that about?
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Sticky 3/17
rough hewn carpet base"boars" . waiting around - browing the ranks - "masc seek same", "lookin for ramonace" the one? " blah, blah, blah - I remember a moment in Shawshank Redemption when they spoke of a person that didn't exist _ existing on ly on paper... untraceable, able to store away endlesss laundered money in variou sbank accounts, etc. why do i feel like that. like a person that only exists online - in this new world, in this new place....outside of my job, i exist to no one. (well, for the most part). what temporatal vanity space would suck closetd and fucke up some sp/time continum ? butterfly effect. (wonderful life character) you don't knont to know see? - it would never be as storong an impulse to make a decent movie plot....we'll just trudge along - don't get too upset - you can't think about tbhese things too much for if you did, you know it would only feeel worse and you would beat yourself up more and more -- anyways, where was I? > i lkinda enjoy this strange feeling of not knowing whwat tiem or day it was ...is. From falling asleeepin in a nap and then waking freaking that a whole day had passed and totally unsure if you were late for something or not. pity the child. bear3`` has had it's fill of me apparently. fuckin a. lost again. i needa metaphor for muse association llock-in ness. a process tha t will get tme to the place i need to be mentally to write . write something real, not all this blathering crap.
holding hands stogether in front of you as if praying, and pushing noose into a little space cupped between two hands, attempting to figure out a familiar smell - is it only the smell of your own self? the use of a diffferent body wash/shampoo.... hyatt place lotion. a man of straw. mea culpa. mea culpa.
finding an old decripit machine in the jungle, half in pieces and overgrown with foliage. we ultimately get it working with out really knowing wat it does. comes to life> a weapon ? --- an old backstory come to life.
in the tower> endless little machines that massage various parts of the still living spy. little spiders. head massager. getting his juices flowing. to write? -> to they all write? k
HOW TO ENHABIT A BODY LARGER THAN YOUR OWN
(not the title of a self-help book!)
blue - tower
red - theater
yellow (green?) - jungle
each with an insignia > that together forms a tattoo of some sort? no?
each need a fleshed out identity
avatars
goals/aims
BACKSTORY
read
The Human Zoo
Psychology of Personality
holding hands stogether in front of you as if praying, and pushing noose into a little space cupped between two hands, attempting to figure out a familiar smell - is it only the smell of your own self? the use of a diffferent body wash/shampoo.... hyatt place lotion. a man of straw. mea culpa. mea culpa.
finding an old decripit machine in the jungle, half in pieces and overgrown with foliage. we ultimately get it working with out really knowing wat it does. comes to life> a weapon ? --- an old backstory come to life.
in the tower> endless little machines that massage various parts of the still living spy. little spiders. head massager. getting his juices flowing. to write? -> to they all write? k
HOW TO ENHABIT A BODY LARGER THAN YOUR OWN
(not the title of a self-help book!)
blue - tower
red - theater
yellow (green?) - jungle
each with an insignia > that together forms a tattoo of some sort? no?
each need a fleshed out identity
avatars
goals/aims
BACKSTORY
read
The Human Zoo
Psychology of Personality
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Sticky 3/16
the problem is and IMPUSLE and the THOUGHT of an IMPULSE are so alike in their origin that it's often hard to tell them apart.
snow - and lots of it -- textured air bliss
embossing every surface
to each his own > his own to each > each own to his > his each to own > each his to own
Sex - Roark (psycho) - JUNGLE -
Brain - Simon (minion spy) - TOWER -
Heart - James (lover) - THEATRE - now a female?
first there is one, and then two - and then three and you think you've got it figured out >>> a family of being
but then gradually things split further and further and you soon realize>
you are a product of your own creation
"you can fix yourself"> the iron giant.
but what does it do?
snow - and lots of it -- textured air bliss
embossing every surface
to each his own > his own to each > each own to his > his each to own > each his to own
Sex - Roark (psycho) - JUNGLE -
Brain - Simon (minion spy) - TOWER -
Heart - James (lover) - THEATRE - now a female?
first there is one, and then two - and then three and you think you've got it figured out >>> a family of being
but then gradually things split further and further and you soon realize>
you are a product of your own creation
"you can fix yourself"> the iron giant.
but what does it do?
Sticky 3/14
The house was once beautiful.
Whenever the urge strikes you.
desire overpowers all your potential creativity
maybe why you so pursue the reliquishment of desire?
HOW DO YOU CONNECT
MAKE A CONNECTION >>> ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space >> all i want of life's a little bit of love to take the pain away, gettin strong today, i try and ___ each day >>>
you do this beause why? you don't know anything else to do?
well that's just STUPID
see i'm smiling, that means i'm happy that you're here.
>>>> and suddenly, through continuous exploration:
the blog. where you can flaunt all you are. however you want.
blog ideas:
exploring the city >
naievely inclined
mindless adventure
trifecta (3 psyches commenting on life)
expressions
issues:
data/memory loss (whose goal/whose evil?)
creative projects
conversations never had (those had with which of who and what mirror?)
encapsulating the past
writing the future
transformation
growth
love/creation
pushing the envelope/raising the bar/near-death/risks/morbidity
FEAR
there are somethings that you can never bring yourself to do, and there are some things that your imaginary friends can do for you.
am i the only one that's concerned with changing incorrect perceptions of myself that others may have??
books that you can travel into?
Whenever the urge strikes you.
desire overpowers all your potential creativity
maybe why you so pursue the reliquishment of desire?
HOW DO YOU CONNECT
MAKE A CONNECTION >>> ladies and gentlemen we are floating in space >> all i want of life's a little bit of love to take the pain away, gettin strong today, i try and ___ each day >>>
you do this beause why? you don't know anything else to do?
well that's just STUPID
see i'm smiling, that means i'm happy that you're here.
>>>> and suddenly, through continuous exploration:
the blog. where you can flaunt all you are. however you want.
blog ideas:
exploring the city >
naievely inclined
mindless adventure
trifecta (3 psyches commenting on life)
expressions
issues:
data/memory loss (whose goal/whose evil?)
creative projects
conversations never had (those had with which of who and what mirror?)
encapsulating the past
writing the future
transformation
growth
love/creation
pushing the envelope/raising the bar/near-death/risks/morbidity
FEAR
there are somethings that you can never bring yourself to do, and there are some things that your imaginary friends can do for you.
am i the only one that's concerned with changing incorrect perceptions of myself that others may have??
books that you can travel into?
Sticky 3/12
i dont' have the money > to buy food > to gain energy > to get shit done > to clean this house > or to confront those who don't! > to make myself comfortable at home > to keep the momentum going
amy and sean
and albert and mollie
derek and joey and justin
ken and bobby and michael
and
obsessive > stories > not my own > no courage to employ details >
amy and sean
and albert and mollie
derek and joey and justin
ken and bobby and michael
and
obsessive > stories > not my own > no courage to employ details >
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Sliding Tile Puzzles
upon building yet another nest and negotiating yourself into a set of circumstances in which you, as you've so desired, have set your self up for certain progresses....
have pushes pieces this way and that...
to yield sacrifices forcing negation of huge chucks of life (the red side of the rubik's cube for instance, you know you can't just try to get ONE side all together!)...
how were you raised to never ask for help, how were you raised to be so afraid?
how the HELL were you raised to never demand anything....demand something for yourself?
sa###R IJ #) ()*0
93209000000999((((**
aer#(IJR#)Osa#
*fritzes out for lack of keeping the blogging gears greased*
hiearchies and patience tests
waiting for money to roll in so one thing can be bought to feel better where you're only home , strength, getting better *garlic bread grease smears the keys* *high setting on the fan blows its tinfoil wrapper to the floor*
let's just catch things up a bit ...or try.
>>>>
1/1/07
ifn't all the tineist details would just come back to me when i'm ready to write? how does one speak from experience, create a story, without always attempting to replicate/gossip the truth, the events as they were?
opuses - waves spalsihing on camera - discovery - ski trip - no snow - global warming - what am i doing with myself?
dirty jobs
relax, feel queasy, from two hours of sleep and six hours of over-caffienated driving -
Il sedcondo giorno ??? >>> don't forget the little details u wanted to write about -- savion, the egg, empire state plaza, the noisy teenagers, sean's facial, the heat,
1/9/07
back to the FIT 3archetypes: they are all symbiotic - need each other to exist > the industrious aging father, has got some cybernetic properties to keep him alive (stray from Vader themes please), and his factories release their waste into the forest, which is what causes the various "mutations" in the forest boy.
changes that cause change
1/11/07
leaning more ergonomically for proper posture and back support, though still in pain from lying in bed watching movies and lost on my stomach, the pillow, the square purple pillow with black wormy threads artsily twisting their ways around the thing.... makes me feel like i'm sitting on the edge of a ledge with nothing beneath me that i can see, and everything in my life just out of reach, no way to get anything done or to grasp anything for support
the budget won't let me plan in advance, payments i know when and where they will come
i physically drained hurt , oh that's it - back to that thought
i know i cna't move through myself , i can't get my parts together to move through the sludge and aggrevation . motiviatie - helicopter hovers past filming - afternoon news - mechanics - so i can move through it via someone else - followed by a the remains of bubbles in teh glass, water pouring out and tiny bubbles in it/'s strail popping til all gone --- while i've been so long letting the movies and the stories create me - to MOVE me -- i can create the stories and the paths in my mind, on paper, to MOVE me wherei want to go - (and maybe see where they take me too) - it would take a great deal of practice, perserverance, courage --- Atreyu! Call My Name.
You would write your father and question if you were nothing more than a creation of his scheming mind.
You would write your mother and question if you were nothing more than her maskless offstage over-nurtured child.
You would write your brother and question if you were the Dr. Jekyll to his Hyde, he the inevitable parallel end to your uncertain transformation.
As you create, you become overtaken by your creations losing the ability to descriminate between the creator and the created.
Picking at a peeling feeling cuticle, sometimes i wonder if i am nothing more than a twisted concoction of paper and ink, paper twisted tight into bones, yet still fragile and weak, ink leaking out of voice and sight - a pitiful expression.
What if instead of that which we see in "broad daylight", we consider things only in the most truthful light in darkened corners of dirty alleys?
The long piece of felt between my hands and the keys has melted to them, keeping me from ever playing to my utmost potential - am I totally covered in felt?
a constant state of change and pubescence > awkward fumbling for attemping to get comfortable and self-assured with current form
I want to be a cowboy - live out west. Where things are hearty and people use words like __ and ___ and wolf is a noun and a verb
And i don't have to listen to Aaron Copland to get a feeling of great expanses because they're all around me.
And i can actually literally be lonely
portion are large
there are no gyms but the men are cut just as thick as the most ardent city gym goers
want to know how to care and feed animals, use them for meat, hunt, be closer to and know how to utilize and not waste nature
where there's no point in having a freezer, or internet, or
i could learn to tie a new knot instead of checking my email
i could build a rabbit trap instead of driving to the nearest starbucks
each archetype has their moments of dual momentum with one another -- mother and son> nature's dance, performance, spring, woman, passive, but creating --- father and son> awkward confrontations, pitiful sameness, regret (winter) -- mother and father> envy, lost love, repression, lack of belonging (fall)
1/16/07
Priorities??? ---
Current "regime" : WORK (promotion?/growth), GYM, EATING
Would like to incorporate >
Meeting people/going out
Yoga/Raquetball
TAP lessons
Piano lessons
Budget: Payments (rent, gym, loan), Savings, Mom
Food, Gas, Entertainment
Incorporate/Find lessons??? TIME???
Things to purchase:
IPOD, clothes, SUIT, MIDI software
Camera fixes, car fixes, teeth whitening
Lost, old live-action disney movies, the ones in tins, "make a man out of you" acapella verse, letting Hyde do the driving, wuzzles, werewolves, do it yourself books, vines overgrowning everything, gadgetry, reference section, taking pictures, trying to cook, six feet under, paint by number, fur, lost in space, off likter fantasies, exposed beams, 80s childhood movies, strange secret stashes, oysters rockefeller, grand central, flying deloreans, beards, bulldogs, maps, house plans, garden mazes, tap, new faces seeming familar, the pump,
1/28/07
"July 28th@!!!, It's July 28th - Your birthday!@ It's july 28th, i know it is!"
he stood screaming out over the ledge not really noticing that no one was really there....
"...he's already gone.".....i turned away from the balcony overlooking the courtyard....to a voice that was my own begging me to come in from the cold.
this guy "really isn't a fan" of the snow. u find yourself imagining how you could ever live with someone that doesn't love things like snow as much as you do. how would you ever play in it alone? u imagine , if u were together (u do't even know the guy!) that the snowy field woudl be your place of solitude or your place of outside threat - the one place u could go to be alone - with dark spirits comeing through the snowfall.
u feel powerless when you feel that u can never convince someone that you love them - when they can never seem to believe it - because they think that if you really did you would be doing some secret thing that they wish for in their head that you will never know and never do just right so they believe you don't love them....the way they want to be loved.
2/10/07
Finding myself overly preoccupied with work......is it an attempt to de-focus from the lack of filling i have in my home life - how i can just sit around and wait for the scheduled appointments to happen, my excuse being to avoid becoming late for them by starting up other endeavors --- nothing is happening at home!! in my own private life -- fuck - - i need friends...... i need hobbies --- i need to cook some damn food!
2/13/07 - CheckMate
"what were we talking about again?"
"it seems as though you and i could have a conversation with all the random thoughts flying around in this boy's head, doesn't it?"
"...yeah. it really does." looking around at the stars on the horizon, reflecting off the water
"look you know i was just - i mean we ---we..."
"hey, it's alright, we were both in need of some escape time and just someone to talk to that was outside of the mess of our individual lives, so we did what we had to do, we got out."
....
"do you think--"
"no, don't think about that - the moment you do, you'll probably be brought back. you and i both left to not worry about what was going on there. at least for a little while."
"you're right"
"heh, i know i'm right." he nudges shoulders and clinks his nondescript beer bottle against the other's.
(moments pass)
"but they hired her. she was just an actress."
"yeah, don't you think he could have been able to tell. I mean someone walks into your world. a world that you've lived your whole life in. don't you think you woulda been able to tell if she was an outsider, if, somehow, she just, didn't quite belong there?"
"yeah."
"how does that work."
"what's that?"
"the way, you can live in the biggest, most 'happenin'' city in the world and still you feel totally alone."
"heh. yeah man, i dunno. it defiently does happen."
"how does someone lead people to greatness?"
"not everyone's great man"
"yeah but, how does someone-"
"i'm tellin ya, not everyone's great. - destined for greatness? the leader? the follower? who are we to say, this or that? as for me, I say you gotta break yourself a little, especially if you ain't got nobody around to hold your hand. if you wanna be good at somethin that you have no idea how to do, can't even see yourself (ah therein lies one problem) - doin', something you've only dreamed about being or seen in the movies. how do you know you can do it, how do you know you can be it?"
DREAMS - 3 nights (all obviously rough around the edges by waking up loss of memory)
2/15:
the play
2/16:
syler
2/17:
dinghy boat trip
(*alarmclock*) ...(can't remember if the beach trip was part of it first)...but we were at the frat house (or some derivation of it) ... a big partying day...(locations and people continually morphing) don't really know if i was in a "present" time or a collage of past images i was never actually present for... playing cards....a game i was excitedly just sorta figuring out ...kinda chaotic but iw as okay... it somehow turned into being in the street, spread out, in a culdesac type area outside "the" house...casper or the like leading the game....decided there'd be four teams...and the cards were four solid colors ...so for some reason i t got sorted out where each team was a color ...(other frats?)...something like go-fish? but at the same time a drinking game...then almost immediately we were in our old blue minivan...a small group of us headed to the beach/or to fish...me in the middle left seat, looking back, you behind me (but then not you, apple) because the person in the seat next to me looked back and told you to drink...because u did something (circle of death?), and it was all fun and games, there were at least two others in the back row, and then he/you looked at me (apple or you?) and told me to drink.....not sure which came first the trip to the beach with just my friends morphing into frat thing or wat - but at this point i look to the driver's row, and it's mom/dad - much smaller event...driving thru the woods - but i was concerned about people seeing in the van, seeing us play our game, as if it were almost illegal or something...mom was like yeah, it's a busy day , we're gonna be hitting the crowds soon...(worry?)..we were driving down an old backwoods road (at thsi point i think the caravan had morphed into a group of my own old friends just going to the beach)..i'm leaning up toward the front seat, we turn a corner and it's just water...immediate and BIG water....a bridge...that's no longer there....cut off...fence at the end... the shortcut mom was trying to make didn't work, the whole time i new she was going some weird way that wouldn't work, we would have to turn around.....but we pulled to the edge of the bridge, it went out about 50 yards...a big fence at the end when we first saw it, but there no more...the water was pretty high, almost up to the edge of the road...and then we excitedly saw a little wave coming and everyone cheered, it mounded up....approached gently, and we felt the car gracefully be lifted off the ground just a bit, everyone excited as if they only wanted to get in the water.....(*alarmclock*)
2/27'/07
a ghost house, filled with whispers and shadows of those from your past you've remembered - those you'd be fond to see once again - here and there a twinge of creaking woods or an imagined sound of disturbed dust brings to mind strangely clear a musicbox moment of the momentum and passion behind your strongest moments. this is like a time traveling prism, refracting facets of your self from every great and every not so great moment you've ever had.....you wallow in it.
you're starved for it....since the last time you've been unable to digest any possibility of future accomplshement or present day-seizing, surely the potential and hope lies there, but the actual action-doing never seems to spark...the tinderbox feels wet. But here in this dry old mansion, the slightest friction could spark a wildfire, with all these momentous past emotion filled times -- most nothing at the time of living them, but so much more relevant now in retrospect.
you know the stories and long memorized the lyrics....but all the others, they've sung since their meager beginnings.....they can pipe out the notes from low to high.....nevermind that they know the words to say, they'll make them up as they go along.....would you wish for soemthing the like - thinking to yourself you could do it better.....if you'd only been....taught.
big news - another week goes by in atlanta! ....
scintillating
the never-realized inventor hiding deep in the passages of your over filed mind has some great ideas for a mechanism that would harness the energy of the past to spark of some lively activity for the present.
in watching Great Expectations (ethan hawke), i felt strangely attracted/similar to the whole thing....
there's the tree houses...with bridges that expand/contract because the wind blowing the fragile pines (maybe find a stronger forest?) would need to be mobile.... they would catch the wind, harness it for somethign...
the garden....built for mom.....with the ideas of all its fantastic mechanisms, a mechanical stone chess board powered by water running through it and all the pieces....
"and no it don't make sense, to put her in the cold and lonely ground."
speaking of which, GO SEEE LITTLE MISSS SUNSHINE NOW.....fav movie of the moment.
why is it so easy for us to get alll SSTAGNANT ?
sticky pools of dusty dirt piling up around the edges, an oily film of carelessness forming on top....surely there's a powerful little handful of detritus forming at the bottom, stirring it up could make some interesting shit happen, no? remember learning about the colors, why they turned that way and the name for them , on those muddy trails before the older kids lleft and it was up to us to name and catalog everything, certainly the less interesting part of the job.....we just enjoyed playing there in the woods, when the raging pubescent struggle blundered on up on the hill.
they always come back...
he's afraid to give up on his dream world and make stuff happen constantly, becuase hes afraid he might never see them again...
but at the same time they're stuck in dream world - they can't do anything.... things don't really "HAPPEN" in their world, do they?
well u got up here, got busy, and got a lot of changes made....but now things are slowing down a bit......"you've worked really hard, now take some time off...." .......the crowded, bustling work place trickles out the door, the door quietly shuts.....then i'm alone again.... and they slowly creep back in.....
maybe u created little figurines as a child and they became each one......
that's what speaks to you > or maybe you made them because u didn't want to leave them behind at FIT....the jungle.....the stage.....the tower....
> back to creating mass projects...... a huge machine....with this one fist....that has a seed within it that if watered will grow up out of the fist
study mechanics....mechansims.....gears, counterweights.....
<<<<< so....
(people don't change!) / (People CHANGE!)
how can you go backward and forward at the same time, eh?
what if you knew exactly where you're going but not exactly where you've been?
The last episode of Mama's Family that I saw had Mama trying to force herself to go to sleep because they all realized she was dreaming the winning horse in the horse race before the races happened.
*dives into bed*
let's stop here and see how far it gets us.
have pushes pieces this way and that...
to yield sacrifices forcing negation of huge chucks of life (the red side of the rubik's cube for instance, you know you can't just try to get ONE side all together!)...
how were you raised to never ask for help, how were you raised to be so afraid?
how the HELL were you raised to never demand anything....demand something for yourself?
sa###R IJ #) ()*0
93209000000999((((**
aer#(IJR#)Osa#
*fritzes out for lack of keeping the blogging gears greased*
hiearchies and patience tests
waiting for money to roll in so one thing can be bought to feel better where you're only home , strength, getting better *garlic bread grease smears the keys* *high setting on the fan blows its tinfoil wrapper to the floor*
let's just catch things up a bit ...or try.
>>>>
1/1/07
ifn't all the tineist details would just come back to me when i'm ready to write? how does one speak from experience, create a story, without always attempting to replicate/gossip the truth, the events as they were?
opuses - waves spalsihing on camera - discovery - ski trip - no snow - global warming - what am i doing with myself?
dirty jobs
relax, feel queasy, from two hours of sleep and six hours of over-caffienated driving -
Il sedcondo giorno ??? >>> don't forget the little details u wanted to write about -- savion, the egg, empire state plaza, the noisy teenagers, sean's facial, the heat,
1/9/07
back to the FIT 3archetypes: they are all symbiotic - need each other to exist > the industrious aging father, has got some cybernetic properties to keep him alive (stray from Vader themes please), and his factories release their waste into the forest, which is what causes the various "mutations" in the forest boy.
changes that cause change
1/11/07
leaning more ergonomically for proper posture and back support, though still in pain from lying in bed watching movies and lost on my stomach, the pillow, the square purple pillow with black wormy threads artsily twisting their ways around the thing.... makes me feel like i'm sitting on the edge of a ledge with nothing beneath me that i can see, and everything in my life just out of reach, no way to get anything done or to grasp anything for support
the budget won't let me plan in advance, payments i know when and where they will come
i physically drained hurt , oh that's it - back to that thought
i know i cna't move through myself , i can't get my parts together to move through the sludge and aggrevation . motiviatie - helicopter hovers past filming - afternoon news - mechanics - so i can move through it via someone else - followed by a the remains of bubbles in teh glass, water pouring out and tiny bubbles in it/'s strail popping til all gone --- while i've been so long letting the movies and the stories create me - to MOVE me -- i can create the stories and the paths in my mind, on paper, to MOVE me wherei want to go - (and maybe see where they take me too) - it would take a great deal of practice, perserverance, courage --- Atreyu! Call My Name.
You would write your father and question if you were nothing more than a creation of his scheming mind.
You would write your mother and question if you were nothing more than her maskless offstage over-nurtured child.
You would write your brother and question if you were the Dr. Jekyll to his Hyde, he the inevitable parallel end to your uncertain transformation.
As you create, you become overtaken by your creations losing the ability to descriminate between the creator and the created.
Picking at a peeling feeling cuticle, sometimes i wonder if i am nothing more than a twisted concoction of paper and ink, paper twisted tight into bones, yet still fragile and weak, ink leaking out of voice and sight - a pitiful expression.
What if instead of that which we see in "broad daylight", we consider things only in the most truthful light in darkened corners of dirty alleys?
The long piece of felt between my hands and the keys has melted to them, keeping me from ever playing to my utmost potential - am I totally covered in felt?
a constant state of change and pubescence > awkward fumbling for attemping to get comfortable and self-assured with current form
I want to be a cowboy - live out west. Where things are hearty and people use words like __ and ___ and wolf is a noun and a verb
And i don't have to listen to Aaron Copland to get a feeling of great expanses because they're all around me.
And i can actually literally be lonely
portion are large
there are no gyms but the men are cut just as thick as the most ardent city gym goers
want to know how to care and feed animals, use them for meat, hunt, be closer to and know how to utilize and not waste nature
where there's no point in having a freezer, or internet, or
i could learn to tie a new knot instead of checking my email
i could build a rabbit trap instead of driving to the nearest starbucks
each archetype has their moments of dual momentum with one another -- mother and son> nature's dance, performance, spring, woman, passive, but creating --- father and son> awkward confrontations, pitiful sameness, regret (winter) -- mother and father> envy, lost love, repression, lack of belonging (fall)
1/16/07
Priorities??? ---
Current "regime" : WORK (promotion?/growth), GYM, EATING
Would like to incorporate >
Meeting people/going out
Yoga/Raquetball
TAP lessons
Piano lessons
Budget: Payments (rent, gym, loan), Savings, Mom
Food, Gas, Entertainment
Incorporate/Find lessons??? TIME???
Things to purchase:
IPOD, clothes, SUIT, MIDI software
Camera fixes, car fixes, teeth whitening
Lost, old live-action disney movies, the ones in tins, "make a man out of you" acapella verse, letting Hyde do the driving, wuzzles, werewolves, do it yourself books, vines overgrowning everything, gadgetry, reference section, taking pictures, trying to cook, six feet under, paint by number, fur, lost in space, off likter fantasies, exposed beams, 80s childhood movies, strange secret stashes, oysters rockefeller, grand central, flying deloreans, beards, bulldogs, maps, house plans, garden mazes, tap, new faces seeming familar, the pump,
1/28/07
"July 28th@!!!, It's July 28th - Your birthday!@ It's july 28th, i know it is!"
he stood screaming out over the ledge not really noticing that no one was really there....
"...he's already gone.".....i turned away from the balcony overlooking the courtyard....to a voice that was my own begging me to come in from the cold.
this guy "really isn't a fan" of the snow. u find yourself imagining how you could ever live with someone that doesn't love things like snow as much as you do. how would you ever play in it alone? u imagine , if u were together (u do't even know the guy!) that the snowy field woudl be your place of solitude or your place of outside threat - the one place u could go to be alone - with dark spirits comeing through the snowfall.
u feel powerless when you feel that u can never convince someone that you love them - when they can never seem to believe it - because they think that if you really did you would be doing some secret thing that they wish for in their head that you will never know and never do just right so they believe you don't love them....the way they want to be loved.
2/10/07
Finding myself overly preoccupied with work......is it an attempt to de-focus from the lack of filling i have in my home life - how i can just sit around and wait for the scheduled appointments to happen, my excuse being to avoid becoming late for them by starting up other endeavors --- nothing is happening at home!! in my own private life -- fuck - - i need friends...... i need hobbies --- i need to cook some damn food!
2/13/07 - CheckMate
"what were we talking about again?"
"it seems as though you and i could have a conversation with all the random thoughts flying around in this boy's head, doesn't it?"
"...yeah. it really does." looking around at the stars on the horizon, reflecting off the water
"look you know i was just - i mean we ---we..."
"hey, it's alright, we were both in need of some escape time and just someone to talk to that was outside of the mess of our individual lives, so we did what we had to do, we got out."
....
"do you think--"
"no, don't think about that - the moment you do, you'll probably be brought back. you and i both left to not worry about what was going on there. at least for a little while."
"you're right"
"heh, i know i'm right." he nudges shoulders and clinks his nondescript beer bottle against the other's.
(moments pass)
"but they hired her. she was just an actress."
"yeah, don't you think he could have been able to tell. I mean someone walks into your world. a world that you've lived your whole life in. don't you think you woulda been able to tell if she was an outsider, if, somehow, she just, didn't quite belong there?"
"yeah."
"how does that work."
"what's that?"
"the way, you can live in the biggest, most 'happenin'' city in the world and still you feel totally alone."
"heh. yeah man, i dunno. it defiently does happen."
"how does someone lead people to greatness?"
"not everyone's great man"
"yeah but, how does someone-"
"i'm tellin ya, not everyone's great. - destined for greatness? the leader? the follower? who are we to say, this or that? as for me, I say you gotta break yourself a little, especially if you ain't got nobody around to hold your hand. if you wanna be good at somethin that you have no idea how to do, can't even see yourself (ah therein lies one problem) - doin', something you've only dreamed about being or seen in the movies. how do you know you can do it, how do you know you can be it?"
DREAMS - 3 nights (all obviously rough around the edges by waking up loss of memory)
2/15:
the play
2/16:
syler
2/17:
dinghy boat trip
(*alarmclock*) ...(can't remember if the beach trip was part of it first)...but we were at the frat house (or some derivation of it) ... a big partying day...(locations and people continually morphing) don't really know if i was in a "present" time or a collage of past images i was never actually present for... playing cards....a game i was excitedly just sorta figuring out ...kinda chaotic but iw as okay... it somehow turned into being in the street, spread out, in a culdesac type area outside "the" house...casper or the like leading the game....decided there'd be four teams...and the cards were four solid colors ...so for some reason i t got sorted out where each team was a color ...(other frats?)...something like go-fish? but at the same time a drinking game...then almost immediately we were in our old blue minivan...a small group of us headed to the beach/or to fish...me in the middle left seat, looking back, you behind me (but then not you, apple) because the person in the seat next to me looked back and told you to drink...because u did something (circle of death?), and it was all fun and games, there were at least two others in the back row, and then he/you looked at me (apple or you?) and told me to drink.....not sure which came first the trip to the beach with just my friends morphing into frat thing or wat - but at this point i look to the driver's row, and it's mom/dad - much smaller event...driving thru the woods - but i was concerned about people seeing in the van, seeing us play our game, as if it were almost illegal or something...mom was like yeah, it's a busy day , we're gonna be hitting the crowds soon...(worry?)..we were driving down an old backwoods road (at thsi point i think the caravan had morphed into a group of my own old friends just going to the beach)..i'm leaning up toward the front seat, we turn a corner and it's just water...immediate and BIG water....a bridge...that's no longer there....cut off...fence at the end... the shortcut mom was trying to make didn't work, the whole time i new she was going some weird way that wouldn't work, we would have to turn around.....but we pulled to the edge of the bridge, it went out about 50 yards...a big fence at the end when we first saw it, but there no more...the water was pretty high, almost up to the edge of the road...and then we excitedly saw a little wave coming and everyone cheered, it mounded up....approached gently, and we felt the car gracefully be lifted off the ground just a bit, everyone excited as if they only wanted to get in the water.....(*alarmclock*)
2/27'/07
a ghost house, filled with whispers and shadows of those from your past you've remembered - those you'd be fond to see once again - here and there a twinge of creaking woods or an imagined sound of disturbed dust brings to mind strangely clear a musicbox moment of the momentum and passion behind your strongest moments. this is like a time traveling prism, refracting facets of your self from every great and every not so great moment you've ever had.....you wallow in it.
you're starved for it....since the last time you've been unable to digest any possibility of future accomplshement or present day-seizing, surely the potential and hope lies there, but the actual action-doing never seems to spark...the tinderbox feels wet. But here in this dry old mansion, the slightest friction could spark a wildfire, with all these momentous past emotion filled times -- most nothing at the time of living them, but so much more relevant now in retrospect.
you know the stories and long memorized the lyrics....but all the others, they've sung since their meager beginnings.....they can pipe out the notes from low to high.....nevermind that they know the words to say, they'll make them up as they go along.....would you wish for soemthing the like - thinking to yourself you could do it better.....if you'd only been....taught.
big news - another week goes by in atlanta! ....
scintillating
the never-realized inventor hiding deep in the passages of your over filed mind has some great ideas for a mechanism that would harness the energy of the past to spark of some lively activity for the present.
in watching Great Expectations (ethan hawke), i felt strangely attracted/similar to the whole thing....
there's the tree houses...with bridges that expand/contract because the wind blowing the fragile pines (maybe find a stronger forest?) would need to be mobile.... they would catch the wind, harness it for somethign...
the garden....built for mom.....with the ideas of all its fantastic mechanisms, a mechanical stone chess board powered by water running through it and all the pieces....
"and no it don't make sense, to put her in the cold and lonely ground."
speaking of which, GO SEEE LITTLE MISSS SUNSHINE NOW.....fav movie of the moment.
why is it so easy for us to get alll SSTAGNANT ?
sticky pools of dusty dirt piling up around the edges, an oily film of carelessness forming on top....surely there's a powerful little handful of detritus forming at the bottom, stirring it up could make some interesting shit happen, no? remember learning about the colors, why they turned that way and the name for them , on those muddy trails before the older kids lleft and it was up to us to name and catalog everything, certainly the less interesting part of the job.....we just enjoyed playing there in the woods, when the raging pubescent struggle blundered on up on the hill.
they always come back...
he's afraid to give up on his dream world and make stuff happen constantly, becuase hes afraid he might never see them again...
but at the same time they're stuck in dream world - they can't do anything.... things don't really "HAPPEN" in their world, do they?
well u got up here, got busy, and got a lot of changes made....but now things are slowing down a bit......"you've worked really hard, now take some time off...." .......the crowded, bustling work place trickles out the door, the door quietly shuts.....then i'm alone again.... and they slowly creep back in.....
maybe u created little figurines as a child and they became each one......
that's what speaks to you > or maybe you made them because u didn't want to leave them behind at FIT....the jungle.....the stage.....the tower....
> back to creating mass projects...... a huge machine....with this one fist....that has a seed within it that if watered will grow up out of the fist
study mechanics....mechansims.....gears, counterweights.....
<<<<< so....
(people don't change!) / (People CHANGE!)
how can you go backward and forward at the same time, eh?
what if you knew exactly where you're going but not exactly where you've been?
The last episode of Mama's Family that I saw had Mama trying to force herself to go to sleep because they all realized she was dreaming the winning horse in the horse race before the races happened.
*dives into bed*
let's stop here and see how far it gets us.
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