the plant, this plant right here, looks like lightly-grilled green peppers skewered on winding shish-ka-bob sticks. thick, ruffled, vibrant. there doesn't seem to be any ordering principle to the juxtaposition of the tendrils....unlike some sharp and angular plants one might find on wooded walks. this thought from the other day floats back into my mindspace....chaos is still math. there is still logic here, there; it grips at your eyes and rakes them left, right...gently curls your ankles, like a summer breath, coaxing them down a sideways street. a coppered scent lances through you, permeates the inside of the compass, dizzying. there is a dialectic for everything here. there is an equation compounding...both complex and getting simpler, by less-than-seconds, to understand. it is ourselves who are dismantling our own progress, disordering the rubix while we aren't looking (really looking). we feel some need to make this math STOP, some imperative to frost it, slow it, and script it so that it might be applied to ourselves. whom we cannot, for the life of us, figure out.
so instead, we focus on everything external to us. we burrow, curiously enough, into the outside world. when things go pear-shaped, we sometimes hang on to it for dear life, for sweet surrender to definition from an informing source, from something which seems to have more solidity than the nebulous fluctuations of our minds and thereby personalities (no, do not claim no inconsistencies in this arena. they are there; we are just better-trained to pass over our own faults and paint crimson flags upon others'). but we need to learn to retract our claws; to fall from the world and simultaneously be cushioned by it. we have compounded depths within us that most have not even bothered to scan with whatever radar techniques they can muster. our potential ranges of sensation, of experience, are exponential, or diminishing to near zero...one of the two. we have lost much of the sense, the liberty, of innovative living, of casting out and burning with the newness of the stars. there are many territories to be explored, not all of them tangible. but the more darkness one burns away inside of oneself, the more focused and torch-bearing one can exist on the outside.
dreams, in particular, and an exemplary manifestation of this idea. dreams sublimate the vast and murky, sensations (or whatever you want to call them, those indications of distance within one's own mind, emotions, spirit) that we are capable of, with actual plots of what seems to be more manageable mediums. dreams are crayons, scraping waxen upon the intricate sculptures of the soul. how fascinating that we can conjure whole oceans, whole continents, out of the raw materials which our thoughts, and what goes perhaps deeper than them, provide. it seems little wonder that god is imagined as human-like, and humanity as the sharded form of a god.
we exist in multiple dimensions, in multiple forms, and they can teach us great and wonderful things about the other. i think that only something which was laced, somehow, could exhibit these properties, these bridges of understanding. to quote a friend..."livelovelaughlook". Do not sell yourself short on the boundless possibilities of existing with apparent chaos. Embrace.
December 18, 2008
December 11, 2008
family business
do you know what is interesting? despite the fact that i somewhat take issue with christmas for the necessity of buying people things (and it's not that i am cheap...i dislike the economy propagating itself based upon an expectation or imaginary premise), for whatever reason i am completely comfortable with it when i consider the situation that my life is in. these are my family peoples; these are the people whom i truly care about and who will take me in regardless of circumstance. the dejected part about the holiday (which isn't the holiday's fault, so much, as it is a naturally-arising situation) is that it reminds me of how infrequently i actually get to see, get to spend face time with these people. family is an oddity in that there is a natural rifting of it at a certain point in a person's life....and it is likely a recursive theme as well, for i'm sure it will happen to me with my children, leaving me in a similarly set-apart stance of forlorn expectation. no, the thing is that despite loving these people so much, we don't get to see each other at all.
what i am finding, though, came as a surprise to me; an offhanded realization, a peripheral that it took me some time to see glinting. gift-giving may be cliche, but i absolutely want to do it....i want to thrust my purchases upon these good people with hope that they will express sentiments which i cannot, or at least, cannot from a distance, cannot over a telephone line or zooming electronic parcels. i hope that they do some damage to any walls that have built up between all of us. not walls that anyone would expect to be there....nobody in my circle, that i know of, has any grudges or misgivings which might set them distinctly at odds with me, or with each other, at all. we are a smooshily-happy family. but i consider, i hope these gifts to be the sweeping hands which might brush a coarse ivy off of a cottage-side, one which was beginning to be overgrown, overpopulated with seeds of tangled indifference.
i wish 'la noyee' was more than two minutes and three seconds long.
its not that i am not close with these people; they will always be my closest, i feel. but it is hard, hard to be instantly made as 'at ease' at our history should have us be. even with friends, non-relatives, sometimes it takes some time for gears to mesh melodiously again....a smoothness of being is a thing to be cherished, when it can be found in the company of others. i know that i can be completely at ease with my family; that they know me best of all, in many ways perhaps better than i know myself, though probably in ways which i could never grasp in the first place by faculty of some ego-bias intrinsic to being an encapsulated mind. relaxation, however, mindfulness and being completely at ease, is something that people spend their entire lives trying to swim upstream of.
one thing i know now about relationships now, is how pivotal it is to establish comfort in a solitary setting. and of course by relationship-solitary, which seem contradictory, of course i mean tete-a-tete; the one-on-one equilibrium which two people can find with each other when they are alone together. in general, the social bullshit stops, and people start being real and engaging with one another about meaningful things. i suppose my concern about family nowadays is that this balance is shifting into a group dynamic...which, hear me out, is no bad thing...after all, a group is what a family is, at it's utmost core. no, i rather mean that, considering that family time is so scarce, we are likely to spend the bulk of it in an amorphous blob of good feeling, complete saturation of senses with the bliss of being around my favorite people, all together again, and trying to relish it (knowing that it will not last). i fear that i won't get my solitary, singular one-on-one time with my family members...that time which i have come to feel is crucial to maintaining a real, crisp, honest relationship with someone. those walls that might be cracked or shattered by such contact will not have the time to be worn down....this is my fear...i will not be able to express to the fullest of my being, because i will be entirely in a social setting where emotions and phrases and looks and jokes are addressed to the crowd (albeit a *very* good and close crowd), not to an intimacy which my heart speaks more to now than ever, considering how little time i have to make it count.
i fear that the more and more i accept the distance which circumstance forces upon my relationships with these people, the more and more i will regret it, because life transitions and who can know where or what or when? i could move to a different country for two years, just like my brother, and not be able to see any of them for a serious brick of time. it would be a voluminous experience, to be sure....not to be missed, i am certain of that. but i cannot help but wonder at the trade-offs one makes with any decision. perhaps the philosopher in me. i feel distant enough even just living where i live, on the west coast, unable to connect with my family but a few scarce times per year, at best.
take a step back from this: how thankful that holidays exist; that they have the magnetism, the force of family to be able to draw these kindred souls back to one another again! bliss, pure. and this is the reason that i could not possibly mind spending exorbitant amounts of money on my family; they are rocks in my life more precious to me than any that i could buy in a store, regardless of any gemstone claims of infinites and forevers. i feel ridiculous, at the same time, buying them gifts, because they do not need them; they feel the same way, but the cycle goes on. i wish to express my caring, and it expresses itself thusly, in the traditional ways that we all grew up with.
presents have come to mean so much more to me, to us, i imagine. i could pull a j.j. abrams, and give my family ambiguous boxes wrapped to the nines, telling them never to open them but to leave them as symbols of what could be, and what is....never knowing, always knowing; forever finding out more about what the concept means. they are foremost mementos and remembrances. take a piece of me with you to your varied lives, and express it how you will. perhaps i will do just that. but these symbols aren't necessary; in fact they have never been less necessary. we observe the tradition, we curtsy, a-courteously, to the court which we owe allegiances to. this is our kingdom, and we may be as foolish as we choose; everything is rainbow-edged and glows with something not to be found anywhere else. our currencies are superior to the federal reserve's; socialism at it's best, most flawless ideal. depression cannot come around here no more.
what i am finding, though, came as a surprise to me; an offhanded realization, a peripheral that it took me some time to see glinting. gift-giving may be cliche, but i absolutely want to do it....i want to thrust my purchases upon these good people with hope that they will express sentiments which i cannot, or at least, cannot from a distance, cannot over a telephone line or zooming electronic parcels. i hope that they do some damage to any walls that have built up between all of us. not walls that anyone would expect to be there....nobody in my circle, that i know of, has any grudges or misgivings which might set them distinctly at odds with me, or with each other, at all. we are a smooshily-happy family. but i consider, i hope these gifts to be the sweeping hands which might brush a coarse ivy off of a cottage-side, one which was beginning to be overgrown, overpopulated with seeds of tangled indifference.
i wish 'la noyee' was more than two minutes and three seconds long.
its not that i am not close with these people; they will always be my closest, i feel. but it is hard, hard to be instantly made as 'at ease' at our history should have us be. even with friends, non-relatives, sometimes it takes some time for gears to mesh melodiously again....a smoothness of being is a thing to be cherished, when it can be found in the company of others. i know that i can be completely at ease with my family; that they know me best of all, in many ways perhaps better than i know myself, though probably in ways which i could never grasp in the first place by faculty of some ego-bias intrinsic to being an encapsulated mind. relaxation, however, mindfulness and being completely at ease, is something that people spend their entire lives trying to swim upstream of.
one thing i know now about relationships now, is how pivotal it is to establish comfort in a solitary setting. and of course by relationship-solitary, which seem contradictory, of course i mean tete-a-tete; the one-on-one equilibrium which two people can find with each other when they are alone together. in general, the social bullshit stops, and people start being real and engaging with one another about meaningful things. i suppose my concern about family nowadays is that this balance is shifting into a group dynamic...which, hear me out, is no bad thing...after all, a group is what a family is, at it's utmost core. no, i rather mean that, considering that family time is so scarce, we are likely to spend the bulk of it in an amorphous blob of good feeling, complete saturation of senses with the bliss of being around my favorite people, all together again, and trying to relish it (knowing that it will not last). i fear that i won't get my solitary, singular one-on-one time with my family members...that time which i have come to feel is crucial to maintaining a real, crisp, honest relationship with someone. those walls that might be cracked or shattered by such contact will not have the time to be worn down....this is my fear...i will not be able to express to the fullest of my being, because i will be entirely in a social setting where emotions and phrases and looks and jokes are addressed to the crowd (albeit a *very* good and close crowd), not to an intimacy which my heart speaks more to now than ever, considering how little time i have to make it count.
i fear that the more and more i accept the distance which circumstance forces upon my relationships with these people, the more and more i will regret it, because life transitions and who can know where or what or when? i could move to a different country for two years, just like my brother, and not be able to see any of them for a serious brick of time. it would be a voluminous experience, to be sure....not to be missed, i am certain of that. but i cannot help but wonder at the trade-offs one makes with any decision. perhaps the philosopher in me. i feel distant enough even just living where i live, on the west coast, unable to connect with my family but a few scarce times per year, at best.
take a step back from this: how thankful that holidays exist; that they have the magnetism, the force of family to be able to draw these kindred souls back to one another again! bliss, pure. and this is the reason that i could not possibly mind spending exorbitant amounts of money on my family; they are rocks in my life more precious to me than any that i could buy in a store, regardless of any gemstone claims of infinites and forevers. i feel ridiculous, at the same time, buying them gifts, because they do not need them; they feel the same way, but the cycle goes on. i wish to express my caring, and it expresses itself thusly, in the traditional ways that we all grew up with.
presents have come to mean so much more to me, to us, i imagine. i could pull a j.j. abrams, and give my family ambiguous boxes wrapped to the nines, telling them never to open them but to leave them as symbols of what could be, and what is....never knowing, always knowing; forever finding out more about what the concept means. they are foremost mementos and remembrances. take a piece of me with you to your varied lives, and express it how you will. perhaps i will do just that. but these symbols aren't necessary; in fact they have never been less necessary. we observe the tradition, we curtsy, a-courteously, to the court which we owe allegiances to. this is our kingdom, and we may be as foolish as we choose; everything is rainbow-edged and glows with something not to be found anywhere else. our currencies are superior to the federal reserve's; socialism at it's best, most flawless ideal. depression cannot come around here no more.
December 4, 2008
if its broke; fix dat
i've been being a little whiny bitch to myself lately, ever since my ipod broke. i need tunes at my side, in my step, quickening and modulating my rhythm. i haven't gotten a new one yet...i wanted an ipod nano, but then i realized i could get a 'touch' and have internet and apps as well (and built in speeks), but then they were too expensive. but then i decided i should just get an iphone and hack it for T-Mobile, but then iphones were waay too expensive, but then i found a decent deal on an older model, but then i thought, i know matt and he wants the newer model, but then i found a used ipod touch for a good deal, but it was an older model, and didn't have the speeks or the much-improved battery life, but then i almost bought an iphone but the bastard on craigslist committed verbally to me but then sold it to a coworker instead, but then i found decent deals on older touches and am wondering how much battery life and speakers really matter to me, if i can get a 16GB model instead of an 8GB.
fuck.
i am overwhelmed, and in the time i have spent trolling craigslist for this shit, probably could have made enough to pay off whatever it is that i end up buying (still no verdict). but its made me consider a few things. stress-level is a very important factor in purchasing. deals are only worth finding if you have time to waste (which i'd like to think i don't) and if you need to absolutely scrap for the money (which i don't necessarily). and i could have been listening to my sweet, sweet strawberry jams by now, if i had just gone ahead and bought something during an online black friday sale from apple~
second. kierkegaard makes mention about a distinction between 'choice' and 'absolute choice'. these things are supposed to be resigned to the realm of philosophy, and i am completely tainting bold ideas in my application of them to consumerism...fuck it. i always tend to think that choices i make are absolute choices, because i hate being wrong and going back to cover tracks for shit that i did incorrectly. but a purchase, esp from craigslist, is not an absolute choice, in any sense of the word. if i buy a goddamn touch from someone and get even a halfway decent deal, chances are it wouldn't take me two seconds of effort, if i didn't end up liking what i got, to re-list and dispatch it to someone else who perhaps did want it. i might even make a little cash on the side doing that. so. stress, begone. you ain't worth mah time.
fuck.
fuck.
i am overwhelmed, and in the time i have spent trolling craigslist for this shit, probably could have made enough to pay off whatever it is that i end up buying (still no verdict). but its made me consider a few things. stress-level is a very important factor in purchasing. deals are only worth finding if you have time to waste (which i'd like to think i don't) and if you need to absolutely scrap for the money (which i don't necessarily). and i could have been listening to my sweet, sweet strawberry jams by now, if i had just gone ahead and bought something during an online black friday sale from apple~
second. kierkegaard makes mention about a distinction between 'choice' and 'absolute choice'. these things are supposed to be resigned to the realm of philosophy, and i am completely tainting bold ideas in my application of them to consumerism...fuck it. i always tend to think that choices i make are absolute choices, because i hate being wrong and going back to cover tracks for shit that i did incorrectly. but a purchase, esp from craigslist, is not an absolute choice, in any sense of the word. if i buy a goddamn touch from someone and get even a halfway decent deal, chances are it wouldn't take me two seconds of effort, if i didn't end up liking what i got, to re-list and dispatch it to someone else who perhaps did want it. i might even make a little cash on the side doing that. so. stress, begone. you ain't worth mah time.
fuck.
December 2, 2008
rep
i was reading / thinking about art just now. artistic nature and qualities.
and i still need to buy christmas presents.
art and temporality. what constitutes a solid, chromatic piece of art? like i was reading, pride is the perfect artistic fodder. it comes in stuttering bursts of indignance; it erupts to the surface like lava, searing and scalding the air. humility is no good. it takes too long. an instance of humility means nothing, because it is a quality which loses all semblance of meaning if it is not practiced in continuance. if all heroes could be hypocrites, then not much would set them apart from the crowd, would it?
i have started to use my pinkie finger to type, or hit return, in certain situations. it is something i saw my boss doing, and it pleased me greatly with its efficiency. must be the german in me. now i have begun doing it for myself, and this paragraph was preceded by the first instance of me noticing it. it's kind of like stretching to that new fret for the first time, bending into a whole new note instead of just a half-step. pleasant. accomplished.
art is something that most people consider as existing within space. the frame of a painting. the green depths of an iris. the purple-fudge-ripple of a mountain range in twilight; rambling rocky roads with marshmallow-softened edges. but art is something that absolutely, positively, must exist moreso in time than in space. definitively. art is not stand-alone...it requires observers, audiences, critics, bearers and bringers with intentions, or sometimes assumptions and arrogances. even a painting or a landscape is nothing if the blossoming mind which is ripe to sweep the dust out of its intricacies has its back turned. it is a required, a fundamental prerequisite. a canvas by salvador dali is nonsense without a rational mind with just enough quirkiness to be awestruck by the disruption of convention.
other art is just as involved with time. some even go so far as to invoke it...music for example. but a song is only...playable. after the fact, after the striking resonance of its first instance, it is then a reproduction, which doesn't seem to say much for its innovative and intrinsic artistic value, even if we still find it charmant. certainly that sentence will rub some folk the wrong way, and i don't know with any certainty why i wrote it. seat of pants. what sense does poetry make, if not when it is being recited or thought about? none. just words, just thoughts, and at that just thoughts that were scripted by someone else who probably felt a host of different feelings about their words than you do.
trying to weave my way back into this writing thing~
and i still need to buy christmas presents.
art and temporality. what constitutes a solid, chromatic piece of art? like i was reading, pride is the perfect artistic fodder. it comes in stuttering bursts of indignance; it erupts to the surface like lava, searing and scalding the air. humility is no good. it takes too long. an instance of humility means nothing, because it is a quality which loses all semblance of meaning if it is not practiced in continuance. if all heroes could be hypocrites, then not much would set them apart from the crowd, would it?
i have started to use my pinkie finger to type, or hit return, in certain situations. it is something i saw my boss doing, and it pleased me greatly with its efficiency. must be the german in me. now i have begun doing it for myself, and this paragraph was preceded by the first instance of me noticing it. it's kind of like stretching to that new fret for the first time, bending into a whole new note instead of just a half-step. pleasant. accomplished.
art is something that most people consider as existing within space. the frame of a painting. the green depths of an iris. the purple-fudge-ripple of a mountain range in twilight; rambling rocky roads with marshmallow-softened edges. but art is something that absolutely, positively, must exist moreso in time than in space. definitively. art is not stand-alone...it requires observers, audiences, critics, bearers and bringers with intentions, or sometimes assumptions and arrogances. even a painting or a landscape is nothing if the blossoming mind which is ripe to sweep the dust out of its intricacies has its back turned. it is a required, a fundamental prerequisite. a canvas by salvador dali is nonsense without a rational mind with just enough quirkiness to be awestruck by the disruption of convention.
other art is just as involved with time. some even go so far as to invoke it...music for example. but a song is only...playable. after the fact, after the striking resonance of its first instance, it is then a reproduction, which doesn't seem to say much for its innovative and intrinsic artistic value, even if we still find it charmant. certainly that sentence will rub some folk the wrong way, and i don't know with any certainty why i wrote it. seat of pants. what sense does poetry make, if not when it is being recited or thought about? none. just words, just thoughts, and at that just thoughts that were scripted by someone else who probably felt a host of different feelings about their words than you do.
trying to weave my way back into this writing thing~
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