The World In Between

When did this solitude become solace? At what point did my loathing for aloneness retire? Ten years ago I’d be sitting in this same corner resenting those around me for what I perceived they had that I did not. Now I smile and enjoy the silence being broken, the others interacting but not distracting me. Beautiful girls are less fearsome when you want nothing from them. Opportunities abound when nothing is holding you back and yet it is no sin to let them go unabused. When you care nothing for those around you, it is easier to revel in their joys and forgive them their flaws. The lighting in here is always surreal. Almost ethereal like some theoretical alternate plane exists in concert with this locale. And you’re never quite here when you’re here. There’s some alternate you in an elsewhere that’s here in the cracks in the walls, behind doors, in your beer. Perfect, too perfect this moment you mutter, but you know better, never too perfect although never better. The meaninglessness that abounds meaning less than before, forgiven its meaninglessness and it’s bore. Because life is too short though this night lasts forever.

Remind me to thank you someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe today. Despite anything else, for all you’ve given me even if unwilling- or unintentionally. I see you question and wonder, searching for signs of sincerity and/or insanity. Eyes wide open I stumble and stutter but indeed never wonder at why you’re a wonder to me. Unworthy you may see yourself, but you need never ponder why I see what you cannot see. Mirrors in mind’s eyes may lie but never will I, not to you, not to me.

This is fuckin’ beautiful. Cars thronging the streets in search of open businesses. Masses of people waiting in line at whatever restaurants are still open. Cool winds, light rain. The world has been saved! Woohoo. Or something like that. My disappointment over the weakness of the storm has been assuaged with the beauty of its aftermath. Green leaves strewn across the road. A sense of peace looming in the air.

I’ve been continually surprised, though I shouldn’t be at all, at how enthused and elated I am upon this experience. My only regret is that I didn’t have a particular someone with whom to spend it. But as it was, I enjoyed it. Kinda sucks that I have to go to work tomorrow after all, but at least I’ll be in a good mood. At least until everyone shows up to return the D batteries and flashlights they didn’t use but just had to have on Tuesday.

Earlier during the storm, I walked in the rain and took some pictures. I hope they turn out. It’s been so long since I took actual 35mm pictures. I should get back into it. There’s more expense involved in development, but less worry concerning picture quality.

note to self
learning artistic lessons

be able to admit when an artistic endeavor has failed, consider all the lessons to be learned from the experience, and move on.

no element from a failed experiment can be reproduced exactly, but that doesn’t make the attempt to emulate it fruitless.

some materials, especially in mixed media projects, are one of a kind. while some consideration for use is suggested, should the project fail, lamenting the loss is a waste of time.

experiment experiment experiment before you attempt a final version.

I’ve been in a particular mood today. A good one, both productive and inspired.

The atmosphere is great. Wild winds, light rains. And of course the people acting like its the end of the world. I couldn’t be happier or more at home in this setting.

I set to sifting through my room and eliminating the items of which their utility or attachment is expired.

I was living in my world. A single room with the door shut and locked. Wind coming in from the window and the end of the world on the horizon beyond. Dark music and electronic beats keeping time into infinity.

I started to remove labels from some items such as clothing. I worked with my rotary tool a bit. Tested out the diamond-tipped engraving bit. Sweet metal-crafting madness.

More will come.

Yet another calm before the storm. The cool wind blows. The sunset is spectral and spectacular. And all the little worker ants in suits and skirts scurry to horde water and flashlights and batteries like there’s a bad moon on the rise. Another gap in our collective cognition. Why do I not see the cause for panic as they do? What do they have to lose that I do not? Property, investments, family? I’ve only my life to lose and love yet to be lived.

I know I’m supposed to be more cryptic or something, writing this post with poetic metaphors and analogies, but the hell with that. I’ll be direct for once.

Okay, so I know you don’t care, and maybe I like it that way, but I’m moving to Oregon in October, if all goes as planned. I’m gonna play my own Oregon Trail game. Hunting for food in the wilds of gas stations and hopefully not having my wagon wheels break along the way. Definitely hope none of my party members die from some antiquated disease because I’ll be the only party member.

I’m going to the land of liberal hippies: Eugene, Oregon.

And into the company of the Girl.

Okay, so I lied about not using metaphors and analogies.

By conventional standards, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t care less about the conventional. Life should be anything but.

I don’t even feel it necessary to attempt to justify my decisions. I don’t need to and shouldn’t have to. If you speak my language you’d already understand.

All that is left is for the execution. Time winding down to Z-day. I’m getting my shit together and severing unnecessary ties to objects and habits I no longer need, if I ever did to begin with. Purging the weak, renewing the bold.

The energy of all this is burning strong. Momentum is building. Thoughts racing.

Welcome to the white saturated world of my future.

Mind the gap.

I want to redesign my life.

the first step would be to remove all labels. exacto in hand, cut off all tags. chip, scrape, scratch, tear, shatter, rip, destroy.

ford. hanes. levi’s. fruit of the loom. dr. martens.

goodbye.

it would be petty rebellion if left to this step.

next is to apply a personal iconography. heraldry. language. lexicon.

symbols of light, etched in neon. writing on the walls that glow in the dark.

neurunic glyphs etched into everything.

redesign everything. break down, take apart, reapply the pieces.

thin metal scraps bolted together like snake skin armor over bare light fixtures.

furniture taken down, turned over, reupholstered upside down, inside out.

destroy everything only to rebuild. we have the creativity. we have the ingenuity.

facial tattoos and alternating hair colors.

which would you rather live? your life, brought to you by Coca-Cola, Mitsubishi, and Microsoft. or your life, brought to you by you.

I still wonder about the people who run from the rain. Small fears seem to lead to small lives. TV teachin’ us to be afraid of our clothes and our food and our cars and our minds, all the while tellin’ us which new clothes, food, and cars to buy, not to mention which drugs will cure our ailing minds. Concentric circles appear in the puddles as the rain fades away and where are all the people this powerful rain chased away? Safe at home, warm and bundled up in their mortgage and home owner’s assurance and 401k comforter. Think I’ll rather just sit here and stay, vulnerable to the elements, wishing the rain won’t go away.