11.12.17

THE impulse

-brevity for aesthetics' sake-

the stars are so close and looming, it's like i'm underneath a blanket with holes in it... and my bed an enormous field. a tipped-over cow,  asleep, serves as tonight's pillow.

the snow ravages a town. with low, dense clouds and growling winds that shake bones, only ice and powder are left behind. sleepy humans rise and face another dawn, still half-dreaming

and

hyde park, uk

poetry can be so abstract as to become almost meaningless - a line of words can be a curtain concealing entire worlds of meaning. if these worlds are not easily accessible through the experience of reading or hearing the words which have been chosen then it is only mediocre poetry. good poetry takes effect immediately upon being read or heard, though true understanding is of course another matter. maybe true understanding (whatever that means) is not as important as true experiencing.

i've been reading bukowski and cummings and hughes a lot lately. i think these are some incredibly good poets - i only feel, and see, when i read their words. the poem itself is a door into sensation, image, life. i love the simple look and feel of their poems, too - it's like looking through a window into an anti-extraneous world. FINALLY. simplicity!

is it all pretention, any rendering of the Real Life Experience through hypersensualized art forms? transforming the Glorious It into something easy-to-swallow, or pleasurable, or labyrinthine, or beautiful?

(we humans are quite obsessed with beauty. as individuals we know when we sense it, we know when we do not. we lust after beauty for it lends meaning to the mundane, though only with the use of perception).

i only ask because i wonder why it is that we create, why we simply must add to the chaos, add to the pool of the collective subconscious. maybe it's all we can do.


. . .

this is the perfect driving-and-howling-in-the-desert-at-night record.

so many good songs. each one a world unto its own. "cuts like drugs" an instant classic of the 90s. unwound sounds all over and inside this.

hoover - the lurid traversal of route 7 (1994)


.

BECAUSE YOU AREN'T AFRAID TO KISS THE DIRT
(AND CONSEQUENTLY DARE TO CLIMB THE SKY)

31.10.17

the raw sun

musically i am in a void filled with the great warm Nothing.
warm like a pile of dried leaves which we crush,
or perhaps the fluff from an out-turned childhood pillow.

i wake up in the middle of the night just after my soul is sucked through my skin -
i open a window and a crackling fire of ice enters my lungs.

exhaling smoke.

🌕
       __


with tenderness i go finding and seeking
finding less than sought
seeking more than found;

days filled with fiery sunshine
strange hurt i knew
that made
me seek the burning sunlight
rather than the shade

in months of snowy winter
when cozy houses hold, i'd break down doors
to wander naked in the cold

(paraphrased, langston hughes)



egon schiele, house with bell tower, 1912


🌕
                                   __

i

acknowledge my temporality
rest my head
look into animal eyes
touch my skin
remember the soul

speak a word

revert to purposeful

purposeless
-ness

🌕


UZEDA - "right seeds"
4, 1995

italian noise rock
incredible female vocals

 

RACHMANINOFF - piano sonata no. 2, op. 36

one of the greatest russian works performed
by one of the greatest hungarian pianists

r.i.p. 
 

DUSTER - "constellations"
stratosphere, 1998

 'neath my blanket fortress i caress the soft outline of your memory

...or something like that



LIGETI - études, book 3: no. 16. pour irina

 

🌕
                              __

you'll find rain better
than shelter from the rain



23.10.17

the breakthrough has arrived.

i was waiting for it - just as i was waiting for the moon to appear on my horizon. tonight i have seen it, a crescent suspended in a pale purple blue.

with the great rains a new clarity has been achieved in me; as i trudge through rushing rivers of run-off in the streets, as i make my way through the city on paths of wet, deep mud, my step quickens. my heart feels entirely awake. my eyes are truly open. i see what is around me; i feel what i am.

FINALLY.

all i can say is finally, finally, finally!, and:

thank you. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!

,

the only thing that makes sense, the only mindset or attitude, is humility.

i cannot conceive of living this life with anything else in the heart.

the respect and gratitude i speak of is in no way related to morals, ethics, or religious codes. it is not human-made; it could never be.

i speak of the respect that is made manifest in the rushing rivers and the winds which blow through the trees, over mountain tops, the respect which is woven in the very fabric of this Universe. humility is written in the very DNA of Nature, however cruel or ruthless.

with each breath i want to acknowledge the beauty of all i am able to see and all that i am unable to see - that unending realm of mystery which underlies our every thought and experience, those worlds which lie beyond and beneath and inside each particle of matter.

/

what am i even talking about?

i just feel happy. i feel something that isn't happiness, it's more and so much more than even that. with each thought i want you to double the meaning, with each emotion intensify it threefold - extend the possibilities beyond the possible, deeper than the depths, higher than the highest height.

i no longer want to simply accept.

i can CREATE.

i can BUILD.

i am not powerless.

i never was.