I will buy the flowers myself, Mrs. Dalloway said or how to tame the invisible.
My Glorious Weekend:
• I cut my hand with a metal belt. Made a wound the size of a button.
• I cut my eyelid. I do not think it is possible but I did it. When I close my eyes I have this pink streak across my right eye.
• I remembered what its like to have temperature. Odd feeling. Reminds me of childhood.
• I have indeed remembered how grand it is to write.
• Viktorija, on Saturday you made me feel the happiest person on earth. I have forgotten I had the capacity to laugh so much. And be so….happy. I cherish you so much and will thank you for ever for being out there somewhere.
• Read this on a Sunday morning at 6 a.m. at work: you know it’s going to be a busy day at the office when they use red bull to prepare coffee.
• Now….I feel the 5 hour fever has gone away and I can actually walk and get out of bed and write this…shall we start then….
Pardon the lack of continuity and coherence. I feel I MUST.
It is one of those…THOSE days...the days, days and days that creep upon you like the mist creeps upon the night grass without a warning, without a premonition, without a hint. It is as if it is born out of itself. The grass is the giver and the receiver of the bounty.
All that is great and terrifying, all that is enlightening and challenging have the tendency to announce of its arrival in one way or another. Think! One prepares nine months to receive another. One waits none months to give itself to the other, to the world, to the wrong and mislead, to the talented and geeky. One closes one’s eyes before the arrival of sleep ready for salvation or redemption or peace. One senses the arrival of the bigger. I believe we have been equipped with our 5 6 or 7 senses in order to register, tattoo, and record those ceaseless currants that make the winds move and the clouds float and the waves brake. By the help of our memories we become living libraries of archives that will accumulate dust, be listed through by the careful, might be laughed at and abandoned but might also be immortalized by the brave.
Some odd days (these days), entities in their own frivolous fashion, seem to have ignored the unwritten law of this indistinct universe and have crept on me without a mere sign of warning as in – the stars have…, the Venus moves into…, the rain whispers… and the wind seeps into….- no, nothing of the sort, just a pale reflection of reflection of the memory long forgotten that made me recognize the invisible with the eye of my mind.
Days like that do not just happen even though it does seem that Happening is the only punctual tendency they possess. They do not happen. They ARE and that is their most encapsulating and terrifying quality. I suppose any subject or object exhibiting such capacity is petrifying and engulfing in all senses available. And so by this share act of Being they push all that has inhabited the space prior to them - like time and energy and spirit and fear – to the corners of the innermost corners and you find yourself (substance as fragile as the Dawning Birth) in the midst of all this chaos surrounded by the above mentioned corner stones and wondering as an infantile whether or not you have enough in you to carry this through to the night?
The moment when one realizes that such days ARE and are NOW is as overwhelming as the nature of them. That moment…It is that split second before one wakes up from a dream/remembers the last thought they had before they fell asleep/remembers the first To Do thing on the days list/ acknowledges the presence of immaterial matters (such as weather and time) and submerges oneself into the physical domain naked in thought. That is the closest I can get to explaining the Moment. It can also be that brief -square-shaped-frame that envelopes the remnants of ones dreams (past and future), the physics of everyday functioning and the tools available. It is very similar to sleep walking. Or Day dreaming. Being awake, conscious but not present. Yes present somewhere else, asleep or awake, conscious or in a state of coma.
Regarding those tools. The ones I find most rewarding for me are smell and sound. I have found myself traveling through galaxies in a matter of 0.0000000837465 second to clutch on that one memory and squeezing past the invisible and yet head strong barriers to reach my self. It is the ultimate joy to pin point the Constant that has made you think/live/feel. As all things in life this shall come with practice and stop me if I start preaching on ways to do just that. I am a humble disciple reminded of my wrongdoing on an hourly basis. Growing nonetheless in my appreciation of the Day.
The Sound.
Today was one of those days. [You know who you are...and I hope you know that only you can make me laugh in one minute and weep in the next. I believe you know when you hurt me but you also know that letting go is more than you can do. And I also hope you know I love you not less than you love yourself, which is MORE than a universe.) Today was one of those days. I might have to thank you. Here. Now. For stabbing me like no one else would dare or have the nerve to. For making me feel smaller than the atom. You only can make me hear things that are more beautiful than the greatest composition and see visions that colors or shapes would fail to empower more than their own content leaking through the borders. I curse your ego. I hate your fears for they stop you from being…being that person I fell in love with...and I am helpless. I cannot help you walk. But I could hold your hand as you attempt to do it…]
My Glorious Weekend:
• I cut my hand with a metal belt. Made a wound the size of a button.
• I cut my eyelid. I do not think it is possible but I did it. When I close my eyes I have this pink streak across my right eye.
• I remembered what its like to have temperature. Odd feeling. Reminds me of childhood.
• I have indeed remembered how grand it is to write.
• Viktorija, on Saturday you made me feel the happiest person on earth. I have forgotten I had the capacity to laugh so much. And be so….happy. I cherish you so much and will thank you for ever for being out there somewhere.
• Read this on a Sunday morning at 6 a.m. at work: you know it’s going to be a busy day at the office when they use red bull to prepare coffee.
• Now….I feel the 5 hour fever has gone away and I can actually walk and get out of bed and write this…shall we start then….
Pardon the lack of continuity and coherence. I feel I MUST.
It is one of those…THOSE days...the days, days and days that creep upon you like the mist creeps upon the night grass without a warning, without a premonition, without a hint. It is as if it is born out of itself. The grass is the giver and the receiver of the bounty.
All that is great and terrifying, all that is enlightening and challenging have the tendency to announce of its arrival in one way or another. Think! One prepares nine months to receive another. One waits none months to give itself to the other, to the world, to the wrong and mislead, to the talented and geeky. One closes one’s eyes before the arrival of sleep ready for salvation or redemption or peace. One senses the arrival of the bigger. I believe we have been equipped with our 5 6 or 7 senses in order to register, tattoo, and record those ceaseless currants that make the winds move and the clouds float and the waves brake. By the help of our memories we become living libraries of archives that will accumulate dust, be listed through by the careful, might be laughed at and abandoned but might also be immortalized by the brave.
Some odd days (these days), entities in their own frivolous fashion, seem to have ignored the unwritten law of this indistinct universe and have crept on me without a mere sign of warning as in – the stars have…, the Venus moves into…, the rain whispers… and the wind seeps into….- no, nothing of the sort, just a pale reflection of reflection of the memory long forgotten that made me recognize the invisible with the eye of my mind.
Days like that do not just happen even though it does seem that Happening is the only punctual tendency they possess. They do not happen. They ARE and that is their most encapsulating and terrifying quality. I suppose any subject or object exhibiting such capacity is petrifying and engulfing in all senses available. And so by this share act of Being they push all that has inhabited the space prior to them - like time and energy and spirit and fear – to the corners of the innermost corners and you find yourself (substance as fragile as the Dawning Birth) in the midst of all this chaos surrounded by the above mentioned corner stones and wondering as an infantile whether or not you have enough in you to carry this through to the night?
The moment when one realizes that such days ARE and are NOW is as overwhelming as the nature of them. That moment…It is that split second before one wakes up from a dream/remembers the last thought they had before they fell asleep/remembers the first To Do thing on the days list/ acknowledges the presence of immaterial matters (such as weather and time) and submerges oneself into the physical domain naked in thought. That is the closest I can get to explaining the Moment. It can also be that brief -square-shaped-frame that envelopes the remnants of ones dreams (past and future), the physics of everyday functioning and the tools available. It is very similar to sleep walking. Or Day dreaming. Being awake, conscious but not present. Yes present somewhere else, asleep or awake, conscious or in a state of coma.
Regarding those tools. The ones I find most rewarding for me are smell and sound. I have found myself traveling through galaxies in a matter of 0.0000000837465 second to clutch on that one memory and squeezing past the invisible and yet head strong barriers to reach my self. It is the ultimate joy to pin point the Constant that has made you think/live/feel. As all things in life this shall come with practice and stop me if I start preaching on ways to do just that. I am a humble disciple reminded of my wrongdoing on an hourly basis. Growing nonetheless in my appreciation of the Day.
The Sound.
Today was one of those days. [You know who you are...and I hope you know that only you can make me laugh in one minute and weep in the next. I believe you know when you hurt me but you also know that letting go is more than you can do. And I also hope you know I love you not less than you love yourself, which is MORE than a universe.) Today was one of those days. I might have to thank you. Here. Now. For stabbing me like no one else would dare or have the nerve to. For making me feel smaller than the atom. You only can make me hear things that are more beautiful than the greatest composition and see visions that colors or shapes would fail to empower more than their own content leaking through the borders. I curse your ego. I hate your fears for they stop you from being…being that person I fell in love with...and I am helpless. I cannot help you walk. But I could hold your hand as you attempt to do it…]
posted by Taskas @ 11:49 AM
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