matches had a dream last night in which there was a cat, but the cat's fur had been specially, painstakingly-groomed to appear exactly as if the cat had been knitted out of yarn or something. the closest description he can come to for the texture is weaved corduroy....tiny, interlaced cornrows of fur. so, basically, it had the appearance and fabric feel of a stuffed animal, but it walked around and mewed as per normal cat behavior.
does that sound normal to you?
July 30, 2008
July 20, 2008
friendshippery
it is of note, that time becomes an enemy when one is trying to accomplish something. then hours blow by; relaxation becomes a testament of infidelity to one's intended purpose. something to feel guilty of. spending time with people whom have separate intentions with their lives becomes different, burdensome. which is no fault of theirs, or of one's own....it simply is. it's not that they have lost anything or you have gained anything which makes for incompatibilities, it is just that they break focus, shattering the continuity and organization which slowly, gradually, begins to emerge in the mind when something of great importance is being dealt with. would that our minds functioned a little differently, and that it were not harmful, routine-breaking, to distract yourself for a time with alternate interactions. maybe sometimes it actually is beneficial to do this. but what m notices more often than not is that it whips a destructive wave through mental progress, dis-jointing one concept from another, forcefully and also somehow sleepily.
the social nature of the mind, or at least of the mind in society, also pulls these same strings. often the biggest distraction is merely thinking of distractions, not actually achieving anything in the meanwhile. human relationships are sometimes so intoxicating (for blissful better or venomous worse) that they stand firm, obelisk-esque, immovable by the brushes and brooms of the imagination (facebook is the worst!). it is impossible to retreat from one's mind, so instead focus has to be cultivated from it, nourished, proactively aligned in sunny/shady spots, with/without water, depending on the nature of the intention to be achieved, the plant to be grown. what do you want your efforts to grow into?
friends are like the hard, metal typeface on a typewriter. if you look at them, in all their combinations and commonalities, you will see what you can accomplish and what your limits of expression are. you are the inked ribbon that can bring these things together, you can unearth and bury them, and in the process create a reality for yourself, a circuitry which channels specific energies which then conduct the processes of your life, your liberty. it is your liberty, your choice, in a sense, which ultimately defines the end product of your time-usage....which sounds obvious, but hopefully you will see what matches has insinuated here. to take responsibility for your life and to wheel the helm whichways you would have it lead you.
you are what you can express. and if you have no outlet for a particular expression, if you have some unspoken whispers rattling around inside your frame with nobody to express them to, then they have no means for growth, no outside to lend them to so that they can truly be analyzed, inspected.
"each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
~ ana nin
if you are my friend, and you are, then i do appreciate all that you have given me.
the social nature of the mind, or at least of the mind in society, also pulls these same strings. often the biggest distraction is merely thinking of distractions, not actually achieving anything in the meanwhile. human relationships are sometimes so intoxicating (for blissful better or venomous worse) that they stand firm, obelisk-esque, immovable by the brushes and brooms of the imagination (facebook is the worst!). it is impossible to retreat from one's mind, so instead focus has to be cultivated from it, nourished, proactively aligned in sunny/shady spots, with/without water, depending on the nature of the intention to be achieved, the plant to be grown. what do you want your efforts to grow into?
friends are like the hard, metal typeface on a typewriter. if you look at them, in all their combinations and commonalities, you will see what you can accomplish and what your limits of expression are. you are the inked ribbon that can bring these things together, you can unearth and bury them, and in the process create a reality for yourself, a circuitry which channels specific energies which then conduct the processes of your life, your liberty. it is your liberty, your choice, in a sense, which ultimately defines the end product of your time-usage....which sounds obvious, but hopefully you will see what matches has insinuated here. to take responsibility for your life and to wheel the helm whichways you would have it lead you.
you are what you can express. and if you have no outlet for a particular expression, if you have some unspoken whispers rattling around inside your frame with nobody to express them to, then they have no means for growth, no outside to lend them to so that they can truly be analyzed, inspected.
"each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
~ ana nin
if you are my friend, and you are, then i do appreciate all that you have given me.
stroll
something m has learned from people-watching.
people often have a strong sense of where they are going/what they are doing. not often do you seem people wandering without specific aim, taking time to inspect a situation or a flower, or what have you.
when it comes down to it, most of these small activities that one is headed to/from do not matter much. they are enjoyments, entertainments. it is very tempting to call them distractions, but what really are they distracting from? is this life....this endless stream of activities that compose an hour, a day, a weekend, a year? how can one label that? is life something that is found in between the cracks of these surface impressions; is life the stroke instead of the finished painting? is life the typing of these letters, instead of the composed paper afterwards? are books and memories merely records of a life already past?
life is an interesting thing. it is an energy, almost a currency, to be dealt, traded, spent, perhaps wasted, perhaps burnt. m thinks that books are life, even fiction....it is life spent, life invested in something which becomes interactive, becomes more than an object. it has purpose; it is infused with it through the intentions which wind themselves throughout the fibers of the book. it is a needled pen, sewing colored threads....a knitted pair of gloves or a hat for someone else to wear, itching woolenly, buzzing with the vitality and love put into them, the warmth and energy that they can radiate back to a mind in need.
but this is why it is hard to say with any certainty that busying oneself with everyday things and entertainments is a silly, unreal pastime. energy can be invested in anything one chooses, and other people are certainly no exception. really getting to know someone involves a lot of situations, a lot of shared experiences through which real parts of one another can be revealed. investing time in other people is one of the most important things that we can do, or so it seems to mattress. it's hard when one knows entirely too many people to keep up with, because often (as happens) it becomes a situation of being stretched too thin with no time to oneself. budgeting time is difficult, just like finances. and knowing people is great....they always leave room to surprise you~
and thus people-watching is completely enjoyable, because who are these people and where are they going, to do what? we can twist up these stories out of anything~
people often have a strong sense of where they are going/what they are doing. not often do you seem people wandering without specific aim, taking time to inspect a situation or a flower, or what have you.
when it comes down to it, most of these small activities that one is headed to/from do not matter much. they are enjoyments, entertainments. it is very tempting to call them distractions, but what really are they distracting from? is this life....this endless stream of activities that compose an hour, a day, a weekend, a year? how can one label that? is life something that is found in between the cracks of these surface impressions; is life the stroke instead of the finished painting? is life the typing of these letters, instead of the composed paper afterwards? are books and memories merely records of a life already past?
life is an interesting thing. it is an energy, almost a currency, to be dealt, traded, spent, perhaps wasted, perhaps burnt. m thinks that books are life, even fiction....it is life spent, life invested in something which becomes interactive, becomes more than an object. it has purpose; it is infused with it through the intentions which wind themselves throughout the fibers of the book. it is a needled pen, sewing colored threads....a knitted pair of gloves or a hat for someone else to wear, itching woolenly, buzzing with the vitality and love put into them, the warmth and energy that they can radiate back to a mind in need.
but this is why it is hard to say with any certainty that busying oneself with everyday things and entertainments is a silly, unreal pastime. energy can be invested in anything one chooses, and other people are certainly no exception. really getting to know someone involves a lot of situations, a lot of shared experiences through which real parts of one another can be revealed. investing time in other people is one of the most important things that we can do, or so it seems to mattress. it's hard when one knows entirely too many people to keep up with, because often (as happens) it becomes a situation of being stretched too thin with no time to oneself. budgeting time is difficult, just like finances. and knowing people is great....they always leave room to surprise you~
and thus people-watching is completely enjoyable, because who are these people and where are they going, to do what? we can twist up these stories out of anything~
July 16, 2008
comedy and tragedy masks
matches wasn't going to buy a bonsai cherry blossom tree, because they only flourish for like one month a year, and how silly would that be? but then he realized that these dark red trees (which he likes) happen to sit in precisely the same places that he remembers there being cherry blossoms four months ago. it gradually begins to dawn upon him that they are, in fact, the same trees.
the dog sitting in front of antimatter is large and black, a lab. he seems to be doing alright, though pining now and again for his 'master', who presumably resides somewhere behind m in coffee time's cavernous indoor seating section. the dog seems to be content, aside from having to inhale all the clove smoke coming from the teenagers over yonder (matches feels your pain, black lab). and every time m looks at this dog in particular, it snaps its head to meet his gaze, as if it were somehow attuned to his mind's prerogatives. it watched the girl in the green dress as well. but mostly this paragraph is to say, that this dog is a little downtrodden since its master, the constant which channels meaning and empowerment into said pooch's life, is tragically absent. the dog sits chained, waiting, waiting. he interacts with other people, minimally, because they happen across his way and pet him, or make noises, or what have you. but he is tethered to the person inside the cafe, and is dissatisfied in the absence.
mattress wonders, if he made a hasty and surreptitious exit with this dog in tow, if the owner would notice. would the dog be happy for the companionship, if he took it home and called it his own? would the dog become eventually as content with m as with the previous, or would it always feel that something was lacking, some intangible in the back of its mind? it looks expectantly at everyone who passes. it just wants comfort, companionship. probably food as well. let's assume the dog is not presently hungry.
m is technically in the market for a dog, since he has decided that he wants to get one whenever he moves out of the apartment he is currently in, and hey, maybe even before then. but this question has come up, of how one chooses a dog. is it like transformers, where the car salesman indicates that the car chooses the person, not the other way around? there are so many differences, so many separate personalities; anything living is not so malleable as we might think. companions intertwine with one another; they become something unified in some shared ghost-space between them. a flickering of understandings and impasses. his dog will determine also his personality, in an as-of-yet undetermined capacity. he imagines, though, that it could potentially be a large one. isn't that a tricky thing to just toss a dart at? he guesses that sometimes, in the moment, one must just trust to one's caprices....but he has always been a somewhat cautious thinker~
would any dog be just as likely to form as strong a bond with him as possible? certainly not. choosing a dog is almost like a whole 'nother relationship process. he guesses that it comes down to a question, of how one soul speaks to another. in some instances you simply must trust to that first impression, that incredibly-barriered and yet somehow also completely defenseless moment of 'hello'. how does one puzzle piece fit with another? can we feel the merging and mending of those ridges, somehow, instantaneously? or is that a lifelong process? do we somehow know, and then only later find out the how?
how much of life do we actually have control over, anyway?
apparat - 'you don't know me'
the dog sitting in front of antimatter is large and black, a lab. he seems to be doing alright, though pining now and again for his 'master', who presumably resides somewhere behind m in coffee time's cavernous indoor seating section. the dog seems to be content, aside from having to inhale all the clove smoke coming from the teenagers over yonder (matches feels your pain, black lab). and every time m looks at this dog in particular, it snaps its head to meet his gaze, as if it were somehow attuned to his mind's prerogatives. it watched the girl in the green dress as well. but mostly this paragraph is to say, that this dog is a little downtrodden since its master, the constant which channels meaning and empowerment into said pooch's life, is tragically absent. the dog sits chained, waiting, waiting. he interacts with other people, minimally, because they happen across his way and pet him, or make noises, or what have you. but he is tethered to the person inside the cafe, and is dissatisfied in the absence.
mattress wonders, if he made a hasty and surreptitious exit with this dog in tow, if the owner would notice. would the dog be happy for the companionship, if he took it home and called it his own? would the dog become eventually as content with m as with the previous, or would it always feel that something was lacking, some intangible in the back of its mind? it looks expectantly at everyone who passes. it just wants comfort, companionship. probably food as well. let's assume the dog is not presently hungry.
m is technically in the market for a dog, since he has decided that he wants to get one whenever he moves out of the apartment he is currently in, and hey, maybe even before then. but this question has come up, of how one chooses a dog. is it like transformers, where the car salesman indicates that the car chooses the person, not the other way around? there are so many differences, so many separate personalities; anything living is not so malleable as we might think. companions intertwine with one another; they become something unified in some shared ghost-space between them. a flickering of understandings and impasses. his dog will determine also his personality, in an as-of-yet undetermined capacity. he imagines, though, that it could potentially be a large one. isn't that a tricky thing to just toss a dart at? he guesses that sometimes, in the moment, one must just trust to one's caprices....but he has always been a somewhat cautious thinker~
would any dog be just as likely to form as strong a bond with him as possible? certainly not. choosing a dog is almost like a whole 'nother relationship process. he guesses that it comes down to a question, of how one soul speaks to another. in some instances you simply must trust to that first impression, that incredibly-barriered and yet somehow also completely defenseless moment of 'hello'. how does one puzzle piece fit with another? can we feel the merging and mending of those ridges, somehow, instantaneously? or is that a lifelong process? do we somehow know, and then only later find out the how?
how much of life do we actually have control over, anyway?
apparat - 'you don't know me'
July 15, 2008
undertow
weekends come and weekends go
would that they could slow their mo
troll dallyingly, and produce that growth
which week work feigns but never knows
would that they could slow their mo
troll dallyingly, and produce that growth
which week work feigns but never knows
July 6, 2008
independence days
a delightful set of days; good memories though perhaps not much has been 'accomplished'. friday consisted of an afternoon drive to vancouver, to acquire some fireworks of illegal proportions. it was a successful venture, but also an experience to be had....a veritable mall of fireworks stands and tents, all along one singular stretch of land, but with heated competition sparking left and right. the advertisements were circus-esque. the hired goons on the side of the road, twirling signs with names, confusing arrows, and vague promises of discounts. and this was actually a ferocious bunch; not the sorts of people whom one would want to encounter in a dark alley. they cursed at each other and made hostile gestures, trying to rope in the most sales to their respective stands, and screamed imperatives to the customers rambling down the dirt road in automobiles. when we arrived at the decided-upon stand (dr. seuss hats were the deciding factor), we unsaddled and made our way towards what was soon to be described to us as "a short line". a rather conspiratorial and misleading term. people were exiting the other side with large boxes. everyone had large boxes. matches thought to himself, what, do they have bikini-clad saleswomen touting the explosives?....but no, not the case. they just had an arsenal that would probably rival the militant forces of third-world countries, is what they had inside that tent.
so, made some obligatory purchases and enthralled the masses later on that evening with quite a display of harnessed elemental force. very much surprised, actually, that the cops did not swarm us, considering that we were blatantly firing illegal varieties of explosions over one of the more major intersections in southeast portland~ m guesses they must have had their hands full with drunk drivers or something of the sort. either way, it turned out to be the most active sort of day, if going from state-to-state, attending three barbecues, dismantling the darkness with bright colors, and enjoying the down-home old-timey musical stylings of a large group of banjo, washboard, mandolin, guitar, violin, and cello players can be considered active. upon arriving home exhausted but exhilarated, the both terrible and fantastic decision to watch the extended fellowship of the ring was put into motion.
it is a thing of extreme value to know many different people, all of varying personalities and temperaments. it does tax one's energy and time, now and again....but good company is, as of this point in antimatter's life, one of the most important and wonderful things he has known to exist. an observation: it is intoxicating to be a focii; one of the dynamic personalities which brings a crowd together and to which they entrust their energies. everyone has had, previously or currently in their lives, times when the dominant social instinct has caused them, their own unspun energies, to wilt like a wallflower. of course this would still happen in situations where one has no previous context....but what is interesting is the growing courage of older, wiser age; the heightened sense of being and validity. m can make his own context out of an uncontextualized situation, which is new as of the past, say, seven years, in a slowly skyward and flourishing flora form. this is exciting, this not bending to the wills of powerful personalities, this stasis and equilibrium of self that, instead of becoming defeated, deflated...instead becomes expectant, quickens and becomes vibrant. the mind is no longer a sponge, soggy and sloth-like when full....it is a battery, charged with current and direct, purposeful; yet playful, unpredictable.
"there is nothing we need to do in order to be ourselves."
so, made some obligatory purchases and enthralled the masses later on that evening with quite a display of harnessed elemental force. very much surprised, actually, that the cops did not swarm us, considering that we were blatantly firing illegal varieties of explosions over one of the more major intersections in southeast portland~ m guesses they must have had their hands full with drunk drivers or something of the sort. either way, it turned out to be the most active sort of day, if going from state-to-state, attending three barbecues, dismantling the darkness with bright colors, and enjoying the down-home old-timey musical stylings of a large group of banjo, washboard, mandolin, guitar, violin, and cello players can be considered active. upon arriving home exhausted but exhilarated, the both terrible and fantastic decision to watch the extended fellowship of the ring was put into motion.
it is a thing of extreme value to know many different people, all of varying personalities and temperaments. it does tax one's energy and time, now and again....but good company is, as of this point in antimatter's life, one of the most important and wonderful things he has known to exist. an observation: it is intoxicating to be a focii; one of the dynamic personalities which brings a crowd together and to which they entrust their energies. everyone has had, previously or currently in their lives, times when the dominant social instinct has caused them, their own unspun energies, to wilt like a wallflower. of course this would still happen in situations where one has no previous context....but what is interesting is the growing courage of older, wiser age; the heightened sense of being and validity. m can make his own context out of an uncontextualized situation, which is new as of the past, say, seven years, in a slowly skyward and flourishing flora form. this is exciting, this not bending to the wills of powerful personalities, this stasis and equilibrium of self that, instead of becoming defeated, deflated...instead becomes expectant, quickens and becomes vibrant. the mind is no longer a sponge, soggy and sloth-like when full....it is a battery, charged with current and direct, purposeful; yet playful, unpredictable.
"there is nothing we need to do in order to be ourselves."
July 2, 2008
time is relative
what is something, when it's in your heart and not your eyes? when those are elsewhere?
anyway.
mattress needs to work on developing thoughts, instead of just grabbing at those which may happen to pass by in the moment. he had a long bout of actual thought-development last night while lying in bed, and perhaps it is easier than one would think to pursue an individual line, to be baited and caught, instead of dabbling around with all the floating particulate matter which obeys the volatile currents. there is this sense that pursuance is difficult; that it necessitates training your mind not to wander, and to fight its way through struggles as they appear, instead of dodging them until it becomes absolutely necessary to tussle. but perhaps this isn't training, so much as it is a force of habit to look the other way.
is it necessarily 'training', to gain a perspective which allows you to forge your way through situations, instead of bending to allow them to pass? m deals every day with his own phalanx of problems, neuroses, and annoyances....we all do. these things we have come to consider as standard fare and are almost expectant to encounter so that we can move on to greener greens *hem*. but at a certain point we draw the line, whether from lack of personal obligation, tiredness, depression....what have you. we flail wildly at the world, so that it keeps its distance from our personal bubble. we will not admit responsibility for the sorts of problems and ponderances which truly bury themselves and burn in the spirit of humanity. instead we occupy our minds otherwise, feign an air of nonchalance, and stave them off to further reaches of the future.
hm. no battery.
and, back, days later. if the ubermensch were to exist in pure form, there would be no dodges, no spins - he would tackle head on. the only way to maintain the momentum of mental industry, ultimately, seems like it is to deal with something as it is dealt to you. in small portions, these things do not seem to add up...certainly it is easier to focus on a task by ignoring all the tangents that your brain will slide in front of your eyes. but how genuine is our committal to the task, if it is so easily assailed by interruption? isn't that a sign that something is off? sometimes things start to stack up, and then one feels guilty when they just want to have a moment of peace with no priorities. additionally, the mathematics of mental images are more tricky than one would at first surmise. it's the old adage of pulling on a string, until the whole thing uncoils - everything in the mind is linked, and you never know how deep the rabbit hole will go until you actually devote some time to spelunking it~ it is a good thing to map out one's territory, and make a laundry list of things which need to be mulled over in more heightened and attentive detail. if nothing else, it generates a surge of validation and euphoria just to cross something off, and be done with it. if only life were ever just that simple.
anyway.
mattress needs to work on developing thoughts, instead of just grabbing at those which may happen to pass by in the moment. he had a long bout of actual thought-development last night while lying in bed, and perhaps it is easier than one would think to pursue an individual line, to be baited and caught, instead of dabbling around with all the floating particulate matter which obeys the volatile currents. there is this sense that pursuance is difficult; that it necessitates training your mind not to wander, and to fight its way through struggles as they appear, instead of dodging them until it becomes absolutely necessary to tussle. but perhaps this isn't training, so much as it is a force of habit to look the other way.
is it necessarily 'training', to gain a perspective which allows you to forge your way through situations, instead of bending to allow them to pass? m deals every day with his own phalanx of problems, neuroses, and annoyances....we all do. these things we have come to consider as standard fare and are almost expectant to encounter so that we can move on to greener greens *hem*. but at a certain point we draw the line, whether from lack of personal obligation, tiredness, depression....what have you. we flail wildly at the world, so that it keeps its distance from our personal bubble. we will not admit responsibility for the sorts of problems and ponderances which truly bury themselves and burn in the spirit of humanity. instead we occupy our minds otherwise, feign an air of nonchalance, and stave them off to further reaches of the future.
hm. no battery.
and, back, days later. if the ubermensch were to exist in pure form, there would be no dodges, no spins - he would tackle head on. the only way to maintain the momentum of mental industry, ultimately, seems like it is to deal with something as it is dealt to you. in small portions, these things do not seem to add up...certainly it is easier to focus on a task by ignoring all the tangents that your brain will slide in front of your eyes. but how genuine is our committal to the task, if it is so easily assailed by interruption? isn't that a sign that something is off? sometimes things start to stack up, and then one feels guilty when they just want to have a moment of peace with no priorities. additionally, the mathematics of mental images are more tricky than one would at first surmise. it's the old adage of pulling on a string, until the whole thing uncoils - everything in the mind is linked, and you never know how deep the rabbit hole will go until you actually devote some time to spelunking it~ it is a good thing to map out one's territory, and make a laundry list of things which need to be mulled over in more heightened and attentive detail. if nothing else, it generates a surge of validation and euphoria just to cross something off, and be done with it. if only life were ever just that simple.
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