i need to sell some of my junk. stacks are rising to the ceiling.
ZTEJ321 : what did you do today'?
Epicurus83 : i sat around - slept in - read - bought groceries - blogstalked
night photos from the vantage of seven feet in the air looking down
flash washing everything out - a few random angles of strangers scattered about - putting the pieces together....
generation gap - carbon dating
branding identities - virtualizing human connections
focus on the details - take it easy on the prose
and why this method of 'knowing' rather than the classic, tried-and-true meeting someone face to face, approaching them, expressing a downtoearth interest...could it be out of cowardice/shyness? .... there again, there are endless seas of therapootical analysis (anal-is-SEAS) ..... methane enduced over-analysis.
and while i've got a stack of books sitting in reality not five feet away from where i now type - to-do reading - and a constant supply via half.com still coming in - i still gravitate toward the intraweb - content to thumb through a blog of someone i don't even know....
my posse, friends and i.
ask anyone standing next to me in the bar and they're sure to be able to list off anyone's bear411 sn quicker than they can remember a real name.
we're still cavorting about, self-image complexes in tow , while one generation above us is... , while one generation above that is.... (maybe i seek assistance with filling in the blanks)
I seem on the fast track to becoming the gossip girl (fanboy) of this newly discovered community...
lives - i can spend an entire day off crashing my safari with *apple-T*-action endless tabs, mapping my through all the blogs/interconnectedness
it's almost better than mapping the intricate mythology of Lost *gasp*. Much to this avid viewer's chagrin, characters on lost have become somewhat 2-D/predictable within the last season. The only current tv i'll watch.
relax. i can be patient. "Italia" by Gabriel yared from Talented Mr. Ripley soundtrack plays as i cross the hall to get a glass of unfiltered tap water. returning to my room with it's random bulbs lighting corners of the vaulted ceiling and awkward angles, making it look like i live in a giant lantern, the day dusking away out my open window. a morsel of contentedness is stirred up by my cozy lantern.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Every little piece
Reading over someone's shoulder .... in the library, on the train...
do you assemble an identity out of fandom... an attraction to something others find alluring...or do you find it alluring yourself. and what do you find alluring yourself - the artifacts? the wrapped up lives? the chase?
and why should any of your efforts be directed elsewhere - double entendre - every effort is not worth it unless it accomplishes multiple objectives you mean?
It's like - you don't know where to start - what to pursue on your own...where to begin. So it's naturally easy to peek over at someone else's newspaper, someone else's crossword, someone else's story and follow along for a bit. And hey, maybe somewhere along the way, you may have the answer to 17-across or some other random clue. In that way, we should look out for opportunities to help each other out. Using our talents to do so. And mine is research. A jigsaw puzzle of unknown breadth is brought up in a helicopter and scattered across the whole of the city. Maybe it's not my job to put the puzzle together, but it sure can be fun to stumble upon some of the pieces. Maybe we're all kinda lookin for where our next pieces are gonna turn up.
Lost mythology teaches us that nothing is irrelevant; every little detail should catalogued and remembered, because one day it will connect with something else, make a little more sense or explode a whole new mystery.
do you assemble an identity out of fandom... an attraction to something others find alluring...or do you find it alluring yourself. and what do you find alluring yourself - the artifacts? the wrapped up lives? the chase?
and why should any of your efforts be directed elsewhere - double entendre - every effort is not worth it unless it accomplishes multiple objectives you mean?
It's like - you don't know where to start - what to pursue on your own...where to begin. So it's naturally easy to peek over at someone else's newspaper, someone else's crossword, someone else's story and follow along for a bit. And hey, maybe somewhere along the way, you may have the answer to 17-across or some other random clue. In that way, we should look out for opportunities to help each other out. Using our talents to do so. And mine is research. A jigsaw puzzle of unknown breadth is brought up in a helicopter and scattered across the whole of the city. Maybe it's not my job to put the puzzle together, but it sure can be fun to stumble upon some of the pieces. Maybe we're all kinda lookin for where our next pieces are gonna turn up.
Lost mythology teaches us that nothing is irrelevant; every little detail should catalogued and remembered, because one day it will connect with something else, make a little more sense or explode a whole new mystery.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
shrink me
There is a question I'd like to posit/throw out there:
What is the dialogue or where is the line between fear and desire?
How can they be intermingled?
What is the dialogue or where is the line between fear and desire?
How can they be intermingled?
Monday, February 11, 2008
angostura embitters
valley of ashes
the gerbil that runs on the grassified chain link fence wheel, and when it trips it jumpstarts the awakening of the clutterbots
they get beamed to the valley of ashes where they battle for the title of best clutter
experimental stop motion short film of clutter monsters - collect clutter from someone's apartment. brainstorm what monster could be made of as well as what it would use for weapons/powers.
it's like a homemakeover show that turns into a powerranger/godzilla spoof
real guests at beginning...
play off on japanese movies....as well as lifetime home design shows... as well as reality tv - yugioh - the homeowner has some power-integration of some sort with creature -
reality tv into fantasy spoof
another short film of a tv show idea - me and javi vespa-in it around the city and gay bar hopping. critiquing all the bad stereotypes but at the same time being horrible stereotypes ourselves - reflexivitiy - and questioning them all.
i think sometimes people just sit online - on the meetup websites or AIM - just staring at the sn's of people they wish they could talk to or be talked to by - and just stare away, wondering how to start a conversation and only thinking with the Vampire of Despair, "who do you think you're kidding?" - i think i think this of other people simply to validate the fact that i do it.
Old Sock Drawer > o, o, a, e > l, d, s, c, k, d, r, w, r > I give up ( http://www.mbhs.edu/~bconnell/cgi-bin/anagram.cgi?cpw=4&phrase=OldSockDrawer ) anagrams for this phrase seem infinite when you let the words be smaller than four letters.
I love maps. The act of simply laying things out (cut/pasting paper/computerizing the pieces to make a bigger map) and seeing where things are. I like being able to walk out of a subway and be able to just tell which way is which based on where i feel the sunlight coming from. Almost unconsciously. I like ancient cartography - the idea of making sense of things in a senseless world. I like orientating myself. I keep maps of all the parks and places I visit.
There was this story/fable/rhyme in my Science/Lit Seminar as sort of a tiny, italicized intro to one of the ten or so random books we read. The story essentially goes: an ancient civilization works to create the greatest map ever made, the map becomes greater and greater in size to encompass more and more detail. Make a long story short, the map literally outgrows the size of the kingdom itself, overlays it in a sense- thus, we arrive at our current state of affairs: the representation of something has gained a greater value than the thing itself. Do we really need to explore places that have already been mapped out and discovered - or, better yet - recreated in a virtual world?
Now, don't get me wrong. Up until now u (reader implied) probably think I'm a poor fool that sees no benefit in the unknown. There's nothing I love more than getting lost. In the literal sense. Maybe it provides the literal counterpart to an overarching internal feeling of disorientation (Ugh, is there EVER a moment I'm not psychoanalyzing myself?!). Regardless, I love maps but I also love getting lost.... not knowing my way, making my own maps in my head.
*Shrug* conjecture. click the little magnifying glass in your browser and begin (continue) your orientation of our virtual terrain.
the gerbil that runs on the grassified chain link fence wheel, and when it trips it jumpstarts the awakening of the clutterbots
they get beamed to the valley of ashes where they battle for the title of best clutter
experimental stop motion short film of clutter monsters - collect clutter from someone's apartment. brainstorm what monster could be made of as well as what it would use for weapons/powers.
it's like a homemakeover show that turns into a powerranger/godzilla spoof
real guests at beginning...
play off on japanese movies....as well as lifetime home design shows... as well as reality tv - yugioh - the homeowner has some power-integration of some sort with creature -
reality tv into fantasy spoof
another short film of a tv show idea - me and javi vespa-in it around the city and gay bar hopping. critiquing all the bad stereotypes but at the same time being horrible stereotypes ourselves - reflexivitiy - and questioning them all.
i think sometimes people just sit online - on the meetup websites or AIM - just staring at the sn's of people they wish they could talk to or be talked to by - and just stare away, wondering how to start a conversation and only thinking with the Vampire of Despair, "who do you think you're kidding?" - i think i think this of other people simply to validate the fact that i do it.
Old Sock Drawer > o, o, a, e > l, d, s, c, k, d, r, w, r > I give up ( http://www.mbhs.edu/~bconnell/cgi-bin/anagram.cgi?cpw=4&phrase=OldSockDrawer ) anagrams for this phrase seem infinite when you let the words be smaller than four letters.
I love maps. The act of simply laying things out (cut/pasting paper/computerizing the pieces to make a bigger map) and seeing where things are. I like being able to walk out of a subway and be able to just tell which way is which based on where i feel the sunlight coming from. Almost unconsciously. I like ancient cartography - the idea of making sense of things in a senseless world. I like orientating myself. I keep maps of all the parks and places I visit.
There was this story/fable/rhyme in my Science/Lit Seminar as sort of a tiny, italicized intro to one of the ten or so random books we read. The story essentially goes: an ancient civilization works to create the greatest map ever made, the map becomes greater and greater in size to encompass more and more detail. Make a long story short, the map literally outgrows the size of the kingdom itself, overlays it in a sense- thus, we arrive at our current state of affairs: the representation of something has gained a greater value than the thing itself. Do we really need to explore places that have already been mapped out and discovered - or, better yet - recreated in a virtual world?
Now, don't get me wrong. Up until now u (reader implied) probably think I'm a poor fool that sees no benefit in the unknown. There's nothing I love more than getting lost. In the literal sense. Maybe it provides the literal counterpart to an overarching internal feeling of disorientation (Ugh, is there EVER a moment I'm not psychoanalyzing myself?!). Regardless, I love maps but I also love getting lost.... not knowing my way, making my own maps in my head.
*Shrug* conjecture. click the little magnifying glass in your browser and begin (continue) your orientation of our virtual terrain.
Friday, February 1, 2008
IF THEY EVER DID
If he showed up here, right now? ...
I fell like I've been abusing, or rather wasting away the fact that I have a perfectly clever and accessible blog/arena in which to express my thoughts/meanderings upon my notion that certain subject are not valid for psuedo-public display. Thus, finally straying from this notion, I would like to finish what was foolishly begun...
Their moon was cardboard, fragile; it was very apt to fray
And what was last night scenic may seem cynic by today
The play’s not done. Oh no – not quite,
For life never ends in the moonlit night;
And despite what pretty poets say,
The night is only half the day.
So we would like to finish what was foolishly begun.
For the story is not ended and the play is never done
Until we’ve all of us been burned a bit
And burnished by the sun.
- "This Plum is Too Ripe," from The Fantasticks
An until this time, unpublished draft:
"IF THEY NEVER DID....":
Fear lulls our minds to sleep.
Fear runs this main character... it makes the animal more fight/flight, it makes the performer never have auditioned at all, it makes the scientist paranoid and
How do you remove fear? THat is the journey of our main character.
Maybe realizing there's something bigger than you - that' you're not the THE main character.
he's reaching out. he's reaching out and he's a coward. he's a coward and he's frozen in fear, relieved to have no made the decision, hating himself for hating everything... hate.. fear... fear creates it. that hate. what are we so afraid of - being hurt
i'm allowed private moments of madness...just as long as I don't stay in that madness.
“Use your talent to save him. Hurt him. Hurt him to save him. There is no other way. The show must go on, Satine. We’re creatures of the underworld. We can’t afford to love.”
I can't afford to quote my life away. I have to write my own story.
We met at Ty's. It was planned, we had been talking on the phone, rather infrequently for a few weeks; I had just returned from my family summer vacation--beach house at Grayton.
<<<<<
in the days of writing this - a hotel stay for LOST was lost upon my efforts - and jonathan and I pondered a story idea he had been working on:
(to get the story out, to encapsulate it, to get the story there, down on paper, so it's not in here"
slice through that cheesiness with a very very sharp, hot knife
Jonathan's story: Rainbow Springs: America's Only Gay Seaside Trailer Park
the drag queen, Delta Dawn (DeeDee for short) , is murdered early on, but then reappears as a ghostly fairy godmother to guide the "perpetually single guy" - haunts the newly arrived "single kid" - and her haunting of him is on the surface "solve my murder mystery" but the subtext is "find yourself" which ultimately ingratiates himself into the community, he finds his place
PSG - reason he's there: forced into it?
all the little lanes are named after dead gay icons.
>>>>>
(So the facts may not all be there or quite right, but i'll do my best)
We met at Ty's. He called while I was exceeding at my usual role of wallflower in the back. I came out the door and saw him there standing in the street with two friends. I did my usual giddy glance to the side, unable to look him in the eye the first moment and walked up. Shook hands (or did we hug?). Met the friends. We parted from them, back inside and he bought me a jack/gingerale. I finished up and we blew the joint. I had parked somewhere on Greenwich st, one of my few times actually driving in to go out, don't remember why - maybe to get there fast? So we walked around looking for my car which quickly turned into exploring the village. The maternity wear, the giant wooden fish in Ralph Lauren, the gorgeous-dark succulent plant shop, magnolia, the indian/tibetan store...the bench. In afterthought i could say I was drunk and more....but it still felt like the best thing. But then again, meeting someone and clicking right off the bat usually does. I offered to drive him home, I had sorta sobered up and we drove all the way up westside to 181st. Playin the ipod on shuffle produced great songs that'd become our own personal soundtrack. He showed me Cabrini with attempting to park five feet away from a hydrant and Chittenden with the overlook and fog enshrouded GWB. Escapades further concluded the night; I drove home enamored.
That was 6/8/2007. Today is Friday, February 1st. Between now and then has been 237 days of giving up defenses, crystal escapades, the space--whole chapters of yummy goodness that spoke only 'forever' and 'together'. Not to mention a whole menagerie of time dragons, brass estate cats, frightened turtle heads, and polar bear expeditions. Soggy shrimp dishes in the park we wanted to live overlooking, july 4th and point pleasant, mahopac and cold spring antiquing the day away--we let each other in fast and eagerly. We parasailed over an ocean we thought big enough to hold an entire workable future. In August, my mother came to visit, and along with Jordan and some other ancillary characters, they all ate him up. I couldn't have survived my planned lunch at the Boathouse in the park without the cocktail-but all in all, mom spoke-realized that she felt comforted I had someone to keep an eye on me up here- I did too.
Gradually though, and mostly through encounters with each others' friends, the promise began to waver. November has always been my month of doubt. But this was not before the camping trip, fall leaves above hammock, feeling home-comforted in the woods. We were always okay together alone. It would be our immersion in our own separate worlds that began the downward plunge. There were talks and arguments with seeming resolutions and they would resurface. In the most base sense, values held or not held were presupposed to have to match up and ultimately be the same. In his eyes, there's no place for a person in a relationship to be going out to "single's bars", that it would be disrespectful; and I thought I could grow to believe this. I tried to explain to myself and my way out of it that I needed to go out to be with my friends. It went on and on. The pressure could no longer be negotiated out of the equation.
Conversations with friends validated ideas that i wasn't always wrong about it, that I had to continue to change for someone else's path before I had even begun to create my own. I thought to myself:
what's making this fail is not the fact that we have too little in common - but over time we've developed a mutual fear that our differences will make us not work --- and it's THIS fear that's making it fall apart. it's making communication break down and everything fall apart.
i don't think i've chosen my friends over you. i think i've balanced it quite well. my time between
the decisions on what u do with that anger is the problem here. hasty decision he's made
actually kinda childish.
after anger passes, if he's still doesn't see a desire to be with me, he doesn't deserve me.
you're jealous that you're not the only thing in my life.
ike your plate gets full (strike, training, mom) and then you basically say to me "matt i don't have the energy to ask you waht you're thinking all the time, so i'm shutting down." -- ... >>
i feel like i've made some choice in your eyes - and that i've done something wrong - and its unacceptable to you - and you just take it for awhile ... and then it becomes even worse so it becomes essentially the break point for you - adn you can back up your case with the fact that its been going on and i haven't been perceptive of it or done anything to change.
I'm sorry i lied to you. it's because I'm afraid. we've both been afraid too long. what's making this fail is not the fact that we have too little in common - but over time we've developed a mutual fear that our differences will make us not work --- and it's THIS fear that's making it fall apart. it's making communication break down and everything fall apart.
i feel like the consequence you have given me does not match the crime. i know you're angry, i know i did wrong. as soon as u are at a point where u and i can talk and not be upset, i would like to talk. i would like to be with you. I'm sorry. i know the decisions now are up to you. and i want you to do whatever you feel is best for you. i'm here for you.
and i think the hardest thing to realize is that
i wouldn't have had the courage to face/confess my distractions/doubts if it had gone on.
but then a classic case of you don't know what you have til you lose it - i would've wanted to make it work - whatever the cost.
is love truly love without a little pain and heartbreak? i think not.
i wish you could have known a fearless me. (...but then maybe I would have never chosen a fearful you.)
I loved him. I don't stop loving people, but sometimes I'm forced to say goodbye. All random thoughts I've had and should have spoken, or spoken more clearly. Ultimately I've come out of it, disposed mementos in hand, a little worse for wear, but realizing a great deal. Not only my usual easiness-to-become enamored in someone, but also solidifying a good deal of beliefs in how a relationship would work for me. I he was here I certainly wouldn't have a clue what to say; if that says I'm not over it, then so be it. But I'm like charlie who wound the pocket-watch one too many times, I can never go back. Goodbye.
I fell like I've been abusing, or rather wasting away the fact that I have a perfectly clever and accessible blog/arena in which to express my thoughts/meanderings upon my notion that certain subject are not valid for psuedo-public display. Thus, finally straying from this notion, I would like to finish what was foolishly begun...
Their moon was cardboard, fragile; it was very apt to fray
And what was last night scenic may seem cynic by today
The play’s not done. Oh no – not quite,
For life never ends in the moonlit night;
And despite what pretty poets say,
The night is only half the day.
So we would like to finish what was foolishly begun.
For the story is not ended and the play is never done
Until we’ve all of us been burned a bit
And burnished by the sun.
- "This Plum is Too Ripe," from The Fantasticks
An until this time, unpublished draft:
"IF THEY NEVER DID....":
Fear lulls our minds to sleep.
Fear runs this main character... it makes the animal more fight/flight, it makes the performer never have auditioned at all, it makes the scientist paranoid and
How do you remove fear? THat is the journey of our main character.
Maybe realizing there's something bigger than you - that' you're not the THE main character.
he's reaching out. he's reaching out and he's a coward. he's a coward and he's frozen in fear, relieved to have no made the decision, hating himself for hating everything... hate.. fear... fear creates it. that hate. what are we so afraid of - being hurt
i'm allowed private moments of madness...just as long as I don't stay in that madness.
“Use your talent to save him. Hurt him. Hurt him to save him. There is no other way. The show must go on, Satine. We’re creatures of the underworld. We can’t afford to love.”
I can't afford to quote my life away. I have to write my own story.
We met at Ty's. It was planned, we had been talking on the phone, rather infrequently for a few weeks; I had just returned from my family summer vacation--beach house at Grayton.
<<<<<
in the days of writing this - a hotel stay for LOST was lost upon my efforts - and jonathan and I pondered a story idea he had been working on:
(to get the story out, to encapsulate it, to get the story there, down on paper, so it's not in here"
slice through that cheesiness with a very very sharp, hot knife
Jonathan's story: Rainbow Springs: America's Only Gay Seaside Trailer Park
the drag queen, Delta Dawn (DeeDee for short) , is murdered early on, but then reappears as a ghostly fairy godmother to guide the "perpetually single guy" - haunts the newly arrived "single kid" - and her haunting of him is on the surface "solve my murder mystery" but the subtext is "find yourself" which ultimately ingratiates himself into the community, he finds his place
PSG - reason he's there: forced into it?
all the little lanes are named after dead gay icons.
>>>>>
(So the facts may not all be there or quite right, but i'll do my best)
We met at Ty's. He called while I was exceeding at my usual role of wallflower in the back. I came out the door and saw him there standing in the street with two friends. I did my usual giddy glance to the side, unable to look him in the eye the first moment and walked up. Shook hands (or did we hug?). Met the friends. We parted from them, back inside and he bought me a jack/gingerale. I finished up and we blew the joint. I had parked somewhere on Greenwich st, one of my few times actually driving in to go out, don't remember why - maybe to get there fast? So we walked around looking for my car which quickly turned into exploring the village. The maternity wear, the giant wooden fish in Ralph Lauren, the gorgeous-dark succulent plant shop, magnolia, the indian/tibetan store...the bench. In afterthought i could say I was drunk and more....but it still felt like the best thing. But then again, meeting someone and clicking right off the bat usually does. I offered to drive him home, I had sorta sobered up and we drove all the way up westside to 181st. Playin the ipod on shuffle produced great songs that'd become our own personal soundtrack. He showed me Cabrini with attempting to park five feet away from a hydrant and Chittenden with the overlook and fog enshrouded GWB. Escapades further concluded the night; I drove home enamored.
That was 6/8/2007. Today is Friday, February 1st. Between now and then has been 237 days of giving up defenses, crystal escapades, the space--whole chapters of yummy goodness that spoke only 'forever' and 'together'. Not to mention a whole menagerie of time dragons, brass estate cats, frightened turtle heads, and polar bear expeditions. Soggy shrimp dishes in the park we wanted to live overlooking, july 4th and point pleasant, mahopac and cold spring antiquing the day away--we let each other in fast and eagerly. We parasailed over an ocean we thought big enough to hold an entire workable future. In August, my mother came to visit, and along with Jordan and some other ancillary characters, they all ate him up. I couldn't have survived my planned lunch at the Boathouse in the park without the cocktail-but all in all, mom spoke-realized that she felt comforted I had someone to keep an eye on me up here- I did too.
Gradually though, and mostly through encounters with each others' friends, the promise began to waver. November has always been my month of doubt. But this was not before the camping trip, fall leaves above hammock, feeling home-comforted in the woods. We were always okay together alone. It would be our immersion in our own separate worlds that began the downward plunge. There were talks and arguments with seeming resolutions and they would resurface. In the most base sense, values held or not held were presupposed to have to match up and ultimately be the same. In his eyes, there's no place for a person in a relationship to be going out to "single's bars", that it would be disrespectful; and I thought I could grow to believe this. I tried to explain to myself and my way out of it that I needed to go out to be with my friends. It went on and on. The pressure could no longer be negotiated out of the equation.
Conversations with friends validated ideas that i wasn't always wrong about it, that I had to continue to change for someone else's path before I had even begun to create my own. I thought to myself:
what's making this fail is not the fact that we have too little in common - but over time we've developed a mutual fear that our differences will make us not work --- and it's THIS fear that's making it fall apart. it's making communication break down and everything fall apart.
i don't think i've chosen my friends over you. i think i've balanced it quite well. my time between
the decisions on what u do with that anger is the problem here. hasty decision he's made
actually kinda childish.
after anger passes, if he's still doesn't see a desire to be with me, he doesn't deserve me.
you're jealous that you're not the only thing in my life.
ike your plate gets full (strike, training, mom) and then you basically say to me "matt i don't have the energy to ask you waht you're thinking all the time, so i'm shutting down." -- ... >>
i feel like i've made some choice in your eyes - and that i've done something wrong - and its unacceptable to you - and you just take it for awhile ... and then it becomes even worse so it becomes essentially the break point for you - adn you can back up your case with the fact that its been going on and i haven't been perceptive of it or done anything to change.
I'm sorry i lied to you. it's because I'm afraid. we've both been afraid too long. what's making this fail is not the fact that we have too little in common - but over time we've developed a mutual fear that our differences will make us not work --- and it's THIS fear that's making it fall apart. it's making communication break down and everything fall apart.
i feel like the consequence you have given me does not match the crime. i know you're angry, i know i did wrong. as soon as u are at a point where u and i can talk and not be upset, i would like to talk. i would like to be with you. I'm sorry. i know the decisions now are up to you. and i want you to do whatever you feel is best for you. i'm here for you.
and i think the hardest thing to realize is that
i wouldn't have had the courage to face/confess my distractions/doubts if it had gone on.
but then a classic case of you don't know what you have til you lose it - i would've wanted to make it work - whatever the cost.
is love truly love without a little pain and heartbreak? i think not.
i wish you could have known a fearless me. (...but then maybe I would have never chosen a fearful you.)
I loved him. I don't stop loving people, but sometimes I'm forced to say goodbye. All random thoughts I've had and should have spoken, or spoken more clearly. Ultimately I've come out of it, disposed mementos in hand, a little worse for wear, but realizing a great deal. Not only my usual easiness-to-become enamored in someone, but also solidifying a good deal of beliefs in how a relationship would work for me. I he was here I certainly wouldn't have a clue what to say; if that says I'm not over it, then so be it. But I'm like charlie who wound the pocket-watch one too many times, I can never go back. Goodbye.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
