Art Attack Central
Fixing stuff, myself included…
Omnipotence
Writing every morning is becoming a habit; I am intrigued by the very nature of the obsessive control an unconscious habit asserts. In the seemingly benign length of my shadow stretching across bottom of the pool, I am captivated by the sudden rippling of wind incrementally shifting my image first left and then right; the wind, a photoshop filter imposed where the only undo is to wait. However, the local weather service has issued a warning: Northeaster bearing down rapidly. All islanders should baton down the hatches. Storms pass over, we can’t stop or reverse them; the only undo is to wait.
Are you still talking about writing?
Only in so far as writing is a habit, I’m talking about habits in general, both good ones and bad ones. The habits that once they’ve taken hold are like rust on iron and no steelwool in sight. The ones that become part of you in such a way, that you are them and they you, rather like Alice to the rabbit?
Alice to the rabbit?
Grab on to the seat railing in front of you, and hang on, cause we’re going for a ride. That’s right it’s a bus and even though you don’t usually take public transportation, you have nevertheless found your self riding one from here to there. So it’s still raining, actually still pouring outside the bus window; you find yourself relatively safe and warm on the inside of the bus. However, the bus is full of strangers. You know absolutely no one else on the bus, although the driver for some reason looks familiar, but that familiarity is a fleeting thought, and passes quickly from your conscious mind. Now, what was it that the rabbit said to Alice before she fell down the rabbit hole? You don’t know? Well I’m sorry. Then we’ll just have to ask the psychologist about that.
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To Hon and Back
Things looking up today. That means I’ve gone wherever it is to be there, as in “wherever you go there you are.” A friend sent an email yesterday that said, “get some altitude on your attitude!” Right. She also said she couldn’t get to this Web site yesterday. I’m not sure if it’s Barrysworld with a problem (i.e. too many gamers pulling the servers down), or too many visitors (dream on girl). Actually it’s looking like Barrysworld is slow to load today as well, and the comments (php) are screwy, after working fine for months. Free hosting even without banners is still not perfect. There were 34 people here yesterday besides me. Woweeeee must be those blogsnob or pyRads kicking in. Somebody came here yesterday via this URL, which provides information on the Si-fi. movie Buckaroo Banzai.
Why do you care about Buckaroo Banzai?
Turns out this is where the quote “no matter where you go, there you are” comes from, which is quite similar to “wherever you go there you are”. So anybody know if the “wherever” quote is a different quote, and if so who said it?
Did you watch First Monday last night?
Yeah, don’t you wonder why they don’t have it on Monday? If you missed the prediction I made for this show check it out. The drag queen cliff hanger ending is still possible.
“The Constitution only gives people the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself.”
–Ben Franklin
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Attila the Hun
Got to get myself “psyched up” to start the process of data collection today! If you’ve been here before and read the last few posts, you know that I’m not in the best of spirits. The “old graduate student hat” (prior post) is too large for this shrinking head at the moment. Not even exorcism can put the fire back in the pan, or realign my brain cells in a manner more pleasing. If you know any good jokes leave them in the comments, I need a good laugh, or at the very least to feel less serious in matters concerning the heart. Thus marching heartlessly into the future disguised as Attila the Hun (there’s a Baltimorism there somewhere) she was unrecognizable to all she encountered.
Okay hon, where are you going with this?
To hell in a hon basket I guess. When you ask for your steak rare and it comes well done, the waitress will try to hon you out of doing anything about it. And they call this charm city. Well this snake just ain’t having it well done, but then again perhaps it’s one of those rare occasions when unbeknownst to you I’ve pulled a fast one.
“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
–James Baldwin
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Nowhere to go
No amount of wailing, or ranting and raving will change the nature of my current circumstance. The next time I make a reference to my lover, someone should give me a good shaking and ask me if I’m really ready to handle the emotional trauma/drama of life in the love lane. The exit ramp is like walking into a wind tunnel with a high chill factor figured in. Traveling at the speed of light can lead to breathlessness, or it can leave one gasping for air.
So which is it?
Gasping for air as I break through the surface of the water. I came up way too fast, and I’ve got the bends as in gone round the bend. No amount of decompression can stop the tiny bubbles of desire from roaming randomly throughout my body.
“Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed.”
–Michael Pritchard
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Destinations
They (the big they) say, “it’s not where your going, but rather the getting there”, or “it’s not the destination that’s important, it’s the journey.” Why is it we keep thinking there’s somewhere to go?
- go to it
- go for it
- go @ it
- go away
- go girl
- go mad
- go any minute
- go halves
- go about it
This only goes to prove my point, and the point is this: After we’ve gotten “there” we’ve forgotten (all forms of go by the way) why we came. I think it’s a verb thing. Verbs are in, and nouns are so out, and that’s why it’s the in and outs that count, but then again perhaps only the folks who are counting make a difference.
Have you gone around the bend or what?
That wouldn’t be much of a destination, but I could console myself with the beauty of the trip.
Where are you going with this?
Would you believe, been there done that? No, I didn’t think so. Well, the proof is in the pudding then… No. Okay I’m going to see my lover @ 3:00 and I’m a wee bit nervous, because we’ve not seen each other since I revealed this URL and…
Back home @ 3:45
Need I say more? NOT happening soooooo… it’s over for good this time. You’ll find no more confessions of confusion here. The Love Testing Machine spit out it’s final answer and it wasn’t the one I was looking for!
“Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough but not baked in the same oven.”
–Yiddish Proverb
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Renovation
Faulty wiring, yes I think that’s what I came here with. According to some it’s the hardwiring that makes a difference, and others will tell you it’s the environment. If you feel like you’ve shorted out, (I’m not referring to midgets and dwarfs) then you better call the electrician pronto. Do make sure that he or she is qualified to delve into matters most delicate. Some wires are better left, or right in place. Accepting the logic that follows naturally from the hardwiring argument is counter productive/irrational in terms of living in a cohesive society (i.e. “I was born bad, and therefore I’m not responsible for anything I do”).
So what?
Imagine if you can, a town where the only available therapist is a behaviorist. A hard nosed thick skinned (skinnarian), a mad electrician with power to burn, he would be somewhere between Stanley Millgram and a character out of The Magus. You are a newcomer to this town and desperately in search of a therapist; a replacement for that the oh so nice Rogerian you left behind. Each individual you encounter makes you feel more and more like George Bailey when he discovers that Bedford Falls is Pottersville, but you’re alone here with no Clarence to wake you up at the proper moment.
Okkkkkkay already, I’m there. Now what?
Alrighty then, you admit that you feel like the new woman in the Stepford Wives, who’s questioning the motives of everyone. Well, sounds like you definitely need a therapist; you’ve bloghopped, or is it bloghobbled yourself into a dicey position, only to find that the road leads back to the electrician.
“Humor is perhaps a sense of intellectual perspective: an awareness that some things are really important, others not; and that the two kinds are most oddly jumbled in everyday affairs.”
–Christopher Morley
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