Disaggregation

It was a strange condition of cracking from the core.
Pieces fall away, for no apparent reason.
Muss es sein? Es muss sein!
The sculptor cries in his grave--
His art has no lasting impression on time.

Restorers find noses
Crumbled into dust,
Resigned to unremembered scents.
Like the telltale sweat of someone struggling to survive.
But stone reveals itself as only stone,
Coolly collected,
As strange hands attempt to replace
broken parts.

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This is my fate.

We wait. We continue to wait. For something. Some day.

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Solitude

Tonight, the sky is inky black, murky. False hopes are built upon vague promises like wishes whispered to invisible stars, "We will meet again." There are no witnesses tonight. A couple goes to bed, hopeful to dream of Kitsch. The woman tosses in her sleep searching for a lost heartbeat. The man curls up into a fetal position, yearning for warmth. An arm reaches over to the other side--absence, the presence of space.

They find no comfort in a spacious bed shared with death.

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Atmospheric Disturbances 2

"People naturally perseverate on their personal tragedies, even though such perseveration doesn't really serve anyone, neither the living nor the dead...It's simply not a practical use of time to think constantly of the dead. I'm not heartless, and I do regret that I must sound that way, and I understand how resilience is in its way a demonic kind of strength, a strength that is discomforting evidence against the existence of true, eternal love. But is it better for the living to burn themselves in others' funeral pyres? As I wrote, once, "Mourning should be mortal." And, well, I think it's worth considering why memorial writing is so awful, why it so entirely fails to communicate the feeling of loss. I at least feel that it fails. Those vague earnest words all seem so demeaning, so shameful, like strangers hearing the sound of you going to the bathroom."

-Rivka Galchen, Atmospheric Distubances

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Mud and more Mud!

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Music spills over us, like the tears on your face. You attempt to sing along as the notes reverberate deep within your chest, triggering a mix of emotions. We watch crowds slosh and stamp barefoot on muddy pools, rejoicing their discomfort.The stink mixed with burning marijuana fills the air. I wonder how it felt...to have shit all over my face and still feel happy.


I don't know how to relieve your pain. And that troubles me.

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APW Highlights

I don't have a lot of pictures of people actually performing...but...here's a glimpse of our fun 3-days!


Coldplay!


Layers of Mud, People, and City


Muddy Shoes


How youu doin'?


F*ck My Bloody Valentine


Wallowing in the Mud in the Moonlight


Tokyo Police Club


I want One!!


The Eye of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

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Oh god. The horror.

7 Terrifying GIANT versions of......

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Interesting thing about Liars and Non-Lying People

"I don't think of my honesty as moral value, since I think of morality as involving choices, and I've never particularly chosen to be honest, have simply never been able to be otherwise, feel rather predetermined to fail at lying. Even as a child, in order to avoid saying thank you, upon prompting, for things I wasn't truly thankful for, I would bury my face in my mother's skirt...I even kind of like it when other people lie, when Rema lies, for example; it's a way of finding out, IF the lie is uncovered, what she thinks is worth lying about."

p.22 Rivka Galchen, Atmospheric Disturbances

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changes.

Erosion is constantly occurring in this city. I suppose it cannot be helped, the way some parts of you fail to withstand the beating of cultures and expectations. I don't think I'm strong enough to preserve all my parts. Every day, I notice these subtle changes--thirsting for coffee in the morning, a new hat, needing music again and perhaps, a little weight gain. I'm even entertaining the idea of a tattoo. *raises eyebrow* Nothing too terrible, actually. Just a bit free-ER...err..more free. I find myself slowly changing before your eyes. I don't know if you see it, already. I'm still me, right? The city continues to pulse with life and I am just attempting to keep up with it.

I hope you recognize me when I come home.

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Struggling to defend..love.

It is exhausting to defend..love. Struggling all the time--to explain it, to believe in it, and to find it, is truly a chore. Deceptive love..how will people know that it's real if our hearts are capable of "loving" again. and again. Repairing itself to accommodate someone else, regardless of doubt, pain, or misery. As if our hearts can take that much loss! But it IS real! How do I explain it? It is strange to meet these agnostic lovers.

And what of our love? A battling of individuals trying to remember and forget the most. A love independent of ideal qualities, ever changing, strangely beautiful? It is a terrifying thing, this love of ours, precisely because it seems rare. We bounce back and forth between i-don't-want-to-lose-you and I-have-already-lost-you-because-you-love-me. Am I just idealizing things between us? I should stop playing witness to the world. It shouldn't matter to me--what they think, I mean. KNOWING should be enough for me, right? I have to admit that sometimes it isn't.

It's must be this distance...this innate longing to be together...it highlights just how far apart we are right now.

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Planetarium

J and I went to the Planetarium last Monday. Imagine sitting in a dome-like cinema with the movie being played overhead. The show was entitled Journey to the Stars and was narrated by Whoopi Goldberg. (Click on the title for the site! http://www.amnh.org/rose/spaceshow/journey) We found out that each of us contains about a teaspoon of the very first stars. And that only 1% of all stars turn into supernovas; Live fast, die young, I should say. :)

Born from stars, in the end we will lose ourselves to the wind; mere stardust risen from the grave.

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Atmospheric Disturbances

Went to the Strand Bookstore the other day. J and I went crazy, yet AGAIN. I'm hoping to collect enough books to last me until December. I'm already anticipating how moving to that town will heighten my loneliness.



So..anyway, I'm currently reading this book. The cover's awesome! And the reviews won me over:

"A relentless exploration of how a man could fail to see clearly the woman he loves"

"Galchen's dark and comical mystery is a clever take on the ways of love, longing, and overanalysis can drive you absolutely nuts"

Sounds quite promising, doesn't it? I'm looking forward to how this story will unravel.

There's hope after all, L. The writer's a DOCTOR and an MFA graduate! It's really possible, 'ey? I'm rooting for you.

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APW Festival

So J and I are looking forward to the weekend! Three days of music, alcohol, and friends!

Just like home.

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