Coming Asunder

It's dark and empty now,

Now that you've left and there's nothing more to hold on to.
Whatever happened to the days?
The days when your smile was enough,
Enough, to last for what I thought was forever.

When was that moment,
When it ceased being me, and you?
It soon became us.
An us that sunk our individual selves.
It was the coming together and going asunder of our souls.

Don't Think Twice It's Alright

I heard some news yesterday that upset me. It was that which I had been anxious about and had troubled me for the past few months.

Yet, I should not let my worries seize and control me. It is that which weakens and demoralizes you. Nothing should affect you in such a way as to complete destroy your sense of self. Rather it may help you clearly define a goal, an aspiration, or allow you to more readily define yourself......

sitting, waiting, wishing

Can you really come to live an eremitic life without your knowledge or consent? It seems as if it would be a voluntary choice rather than one brought about by necessity. Living in such a way now, a recluse from society and the world, makes it difficult to interact with others around you. I am not such a person. And, although I do enjoy my solitude, I don't thrive well in it.

I don't enjoy having to wait for a decision that will affect my life for the next year or two. It's extremely foggy and rainy today, and I find it beautiful, serene and calming. A feeling I welcome after many sleepless nights and endless days of sitting, waiting, wishing.

My thoughts are slightly scattered at the moment so I'll try and make sense of them. I saw a friend the other day and I started to wonder if you could truly be yourself around someone you were never completely verbally honest with? Are there certain things that can be better spoken without words? Can unspoken needs, wants or desires arise between two disparate individuals? There is so much that is lost in between it is hard to really pinpoint what it is that keeps you connected.

Miller, Miller

"The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself."
Henry Miller

Miller's insight reminds me of how common, and human such an action can be... and yet so frustrating at the same time. I know that I for one, when fixated on, or interested in something or someone, tend to project an ideal that was perhaps never there to begin with. The distinction between that which is true or not, therefore becomes blurred. How magnificent can such a world be when it was never there to begin with? And when something tangible and real goes against this notion that has been so cleverly concocted in one's mind, why are we shocked and thrown into bouts of anger, despair, or confusion?

Is that which is presented before you all that truly can be interpreted? Nothing more, nothing less. Is everything else to be counted as speculation? Speculation - a euphemism for madness, an act in itself which can drive you towards that condition. Then again, we are all deemed mad in a way, when we find the slightest thing remarkable. I'm not trying to make any grand claims, or believe this to be true in all cases. Yet, it is something that affects me, possesses me, until something else draws my attention away from it to pave the way to another fascinating world, outlook, or emotion.

Carousels

Carousels remind me of my childhood, something that we are all trying to subconsciously recreate. The playfulness, the sincerity, and the lack of pretension that we all associate with those times. I'm trying to be more receptive, less hesitant and defensive these days. Swinging or roaming around in a playground has a similar effect, and is something I try to do when I can, either alone or with friends.




But going on a carousel now... that feeling of suddenly letting go of all apprehension, boredom and compromise that adulthood brings.

And to be vividly imaginative as we once were...



Taking pictures at th the Contemporary Museum of Art, I managed to capture this little girl finding delight in the simplest of things..

Remedios Varo

Varo is a painter that was introduced to me by my older brother :) As one of the lesser known surrealist painters, Varo's work verges on drawing mystical, philosophical, as well as dreamlike elements as a source of inspiration for her work. I can't help but be reminded of Burton's films, where it seems an 'atypical' look on the child fantasy is presented. I wonder if he was influenced by her....

Perhaps too literal of an interpretation, this particular one reminds me of a line from Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Life's but walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard of no more.

And to illustrate the similarity with Tim Burton

A bout de souffle

It seems that everyone is trying to be heard these days, and now I am one of them. One of the multitude of individuals with thoughts, ideas, and interests that are longing to be expressed.

Ever the daydreamer, my family would always hound me with questions on what I was thinking when I was younger. I don't know if it was reality I was escaping from, or if it was just a way of entertaining myself. Nevertheless, I cherish those 'daydreams' because I haven't been able to recollect those that occur at night for a while now. A fact I attribute to a dreamcatcher that was given to me by my father. However, on the rare occasion when I'm stressed, my nightmares take on a strange manifestation of what I'm stressed about. And those, I can't help but remember. Which is strange when I think about it, because good dreams are suppose to filter through, while bad dreams stay in the net...disappearing with the coming of the day.

Always drifting, thoughts never uttered, and now trying to be written. It was Cortazar who wrote, "all profound distraction opens certain doors. You have to allow yourself to be distracted when you are unable to concentrate." Finding myself unable to concentrate on anything remotely important or interesting these days, this is my poor attempt at some semblance of profound distraction.

I'm use to moving, and now I feel trapped. Stifled by my thoughts, trapped by my surroundings. I feel both restless and listless. Whenever I feel this weary, I would often 'escape,' without a destination in mind, searching, travelling, discovering, a sort of destroyer of compasses. Organizing my thoughts on this blog is my own way of living and breathing again.

Feeling so confined made me think of Jean Luc Godard's "A Bout de Souffle," one of my favorite movies. Godard's intelligent use of the film medium to convey the lives and thoughts of the characters in the film, played by Jean Seberg and Jean Paul Belmondo are what truly make this idiosyncratic film. What Godard essentially does is allow viewers to develop their own sense of what is occurring through filling intended breaks, and a lack of continuity between scenes, with their imagination. Sentiments and viewpoints of others are not forced on the audience, as many films attempt to do so nowadays, rather the camera serves as an effective artistic device that give spectators a sense of what is occurring - what is being felt or thought - without it being readily apparent. I found the dialogue to also be extremely clever and candid.

I think we can all relate to the two characters, Patricia and Michel, who both attempt to find their place in the world and attempt to communicate that with one another.

"J'ignore si je suis malheureuse parce que je ne suis pas libre ou si je ne suis pas libre parce que je suis malheurese."