Pas de Deux

As I drove away,
I began to think about a passenger;
and their sweetness embraced me and I smiled.
I took on curves with wings
and passed through highs & lows on the black pavement
as though they were pinnacles of mountains yet to be conquered.

The passenger simply gazed, lovingly-
dozing off while in disbelief of our tangibility.
Our hands met in mid-air,
the cold air framed our smiles.
Suddenly-lamp posts, branches, darkness.
And so I began to descend
until I crossed familiar paths,
and I returned home-
my heart heavy with the motions,
hanging ballet slippers on the wall,
the seat beside me: untouched;
my pas de deux comme les fleurs du mal.



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Now playing: Xandria - Now & Forever
via FoxyTunes

Of Black Holes and Wormholes

<-Schwarzschild wormhole






There are times in which you know that you may be at fault:::
perhaps a bit of underlying moodiness, or a bit of impulsiveness [or compulsiveness] were the reasons for the whole let down.
Other times however, it may be entirely out of your hands.
In my case: I try -most certainly- to strive for accordance and diplomacy [when my pent up anger doesn't get a hold of me, that is].

This time, I wish to dedicate this lil space to my own little ray of...happiness...:::
MY BEDROOM.

Sure it's tiny and I could probably furnish an apartment with all my belongings already [heads up: this is what I can afford right now].
But, I can tell you:::
•it's pretty
•it's made up just like I want it.
•it's comfy.
•it's oh-so-me.
...But...
OH MY SCIENCE!
it IS a very special vortex.
Perhaps a black hole:

<-Simulated view of a black hole in front of the Large Magellanic Cloud








since objects [or this case, their functionality thereof] can "fall" into it, but cannot come out.

Or perhaps, my room is a Wormhole:

<-Analogy to a wormhole in a curved 2D space







since said disappearing acts of functionality are all related to technological devices, and so I can only assume they're pulling an "out-of-time/out-of-sight" context-fight.

In any case, my point:
You can bring ANY technological device into my bedroom or MY whereabouts [because YES, this sudden vortex effect follows me, too-but we won't get into that now] and rest assured: it'll never work the same way, EVER-again. This warning includes [but it is NOT limited to]: personal computers, lab tops, cellphones, GPS navigators, etc. and their supposed connectivity.

I should hang a signed liability clause on my door, plus one of these:
I...really should.
:"[

Regarding Uncanny Leaves

Image by AlixanaEuphoria via Flickr - Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves

"Through innovative typography and other devices, House of Leaves foregrounds its materiality, which depends on physical properties, though not in a naive or unequivocal way, because the number of physical properties that can be brought into play is essentially infinite. Of all the attributes we might potentially notice about a book, a small number are selected by the semiotic content and mobilized as resources so that they become part of the book's signifying practices. Materiality thus emerges from the interplay between physical attributes and semiotic components.
[...]
Consequently, the story's architecture is envisioned not as a sequential narrative so much as alternative paths within the same immense labyrinth of fictional space-time that is also, and simultaneously, a rat's nest of inscription surfaces. Moreover, these surfaces prove as resistant to logical ordering as the House is to coherent mapping. Locating itself within these labyrinthine spaces, the text enfolds together the objects represented and the media used to represent them. At the same time, the text insists on its specificity as a print novel, showing a heightened self-awareness about its own materiality."
[...]

'Twas a long night.
I be working on it, as I "must."

I think a grilled sandwich for breakfast would be most fabulous.



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Now playing: Yann Tiersen - Quimper 94
via FoxyTunes

10:00 a.m.

I always wake up as soon as he opens the door.
The doorknob turns and I'm already opening my eyes.
I don't get it and it does not matter.

I've always liked 10:00 a.m.
It is a very agreeable hour for me,
perhaps because I'm usually only gaining conscience then,
or because it is right between "it's way too early" and "it's getting late" or "it's already too late".
All I know is: something is usually going on at 10:00 a.m.,
whether I'm here or still vagabonding in sunless lands.
It's the one hour of every day that somehow revives my hope for expectations.


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Now playing: Robi Draco Rosa- Penélope
via FoxyTunes

Commencement

Image via WikipediaA

And so it begins...

What began as a leisurely afternoon delight: finding another blog, finding another space, finding another...led me to this. I should have been writing. I should have been working on THAT massive embodiment of stress and infinite disarmed disarray: my thesis.

Writing, yes.

I wish I could say, "...but at least I worked on/did/ _____ while I waited it out," however, more often than not I will do exactly that: wait it out. Sad truth is, I still don't know why it bothers me or angers me much, since I should already be used to it. This anxiety takes me to the high-contrasted areas of my perfectionism, fear of disappointment, and over-all ...what? "fed-upness? lack of interest?...and yet again..."fed-upness." Sure.

So, very well: a whole Saturday has passed and I didn't even look at my thesis, I did not work out, and certainly, my sketchbook and strings are still gathering cosmic dust.

Conclusion?

Well, none, other than the obvious: Today will serve my head on a plate. [♥] Of course, if it was up to me, I'd probably take my time looking for the plate upon which it is meant to be served.

...I need something to look forward to.

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Now playing: Yann Tiersen - La Valse des Monstres
via FoxyTunes