me...

Magic is a sticky wicket. People who do believe don't like dissecting it, and people who don't believe aren't fair at all. i resent both positions equally. i think it's a kind of insult to the universe to suggest that magic exists outside of our minds, but the phenomenon itself is wonderful - literally. Magic is an emotion we experience when our mind reaches its limits of comprehension. And that's why religion is so often backwards, trying to explain with the inexplicable. "What, then," the astute reader asks, "is the difference between magic and confusion?" And i would suggest that confusion is caused by something we don't understand to an extent that we do, and magic is caused by something we do understand to an extent that we don't. For example, what you are experiencing right now is confusion. Current Mood: meditative Current Music: "Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?" - Douglas Adams posted by Arthur @ 9/07/2002 08:25:00 PM	Saturday, September 07, 2002
i have cried many times over the loss of Douglas Adams. It's a connection i have never succeeded in explaining to anyone; i never met him. Last night, i did. Though kind and honest, he was sort of vacant - maybe because that's how i imagine he was, maybe because i didn't know him, or maybe because Sartre's Death is as infectious as Dante's. We were sitting on the living room floor of my grandmother's house. i may have been much younger. i spent a lot of time convincing him how much he'd changed my life; it was hard for him to believe. When my father came in and sat on the sofa, oblivious, we discussed that empty relationship. Shortly after waking, i had tears in my eyes before i knew why. Neither of my parents is a bad person, but from my earliest perceptions there were never any real connections. It was as if we had the same vocabulary, but all the meanings and syntax were different. For a brief dream moment, i knew what it was to have a dad. It occurs to me that some readers may come to this weblog for philosophy, and end up with my dreams. i've therefore decided to start a dream journal at achildawake.blogspot.com. See you there! Current Mood: alien Current Music: "Mind your manners. Watch your weight. Be a good boy. Just behave. What's wrong with you? Settle down. Keep your two feet on the ground. Sit up straight. Stand up tall. Never falter. Never fall. Stay in school. Make the grade. Never fail. And never fade. Be a hero. Be a star. Anything but what you are. Find a girl to possess. Always pay, pursue, protect. Be a master. Be a slave. Work your ass into an early grave." - To Be Loved, Curtis Stigers (Dawson's Creek Soundtrack) posted by Arthur @ 9/04/2002 11:42:00 PM	Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Creativity and imagination are not synonymous. Creativity is the ability to pull ideas together, to make connections. i have this like Seattle has rain. Imagination is the ability to conjure spontaneous ideas, to create arbitrarily. This only comes in waking dreams before i sleep: Sound of slight motion, a breeze. Confused by the feeling of you. In smooth light black, you're soft heavy white. Your knees - you're sitting up. i have both pillows? You flip back to a page you had finger-kept. There may be more. Hard, dirty-gray poetry. But your voice is sweet air, elan, dulcinea. i understand nothing but your love. Current Mood: dreamy Current Music: "Ana Ng and I are getting old, and we still haven't walked in the glow of each other's majestic presence. Listen Ana, hear my words; they're the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you" - Ana Ng, They Might Be Giants posted by Arthur @ 9/04/2002 05:45:00 AM
she said, "Did you think that you were dreaming?" i said, "Sometimes i don't know." i have trouble acting normal can't you see me, can't you see me, can't you see me? posted by Arthur @ 9/03/2002 03:27:00 PM	Tuesday, September 03, 2002
if she remembers, she hides it whenever we meet posted by Arthur @ 9/03/2002 03:06:00 PM
round here we stay up very very very very late i can't see nothin', nothin' round here posted by Arthur @ 9/03/2002 04:36:00 AM
The one thing that everyone learns as life goes on, is that life goes on. Sometimes i think that is the saddest thing i could wish for anyone. Sometimes the universe needs to end - it HAS to. It keeps us alive, keeps us creating. i don't fear death, but i fear being ready for it. Current Mood: the opposite of alee Current Music: "Would you catch me if i was fallin'? Would you kiss me if i was leavin'?" - Round Here, Counting Crows (Across a Live Wire) posted by Arthur @ 9/03/2002 04:02:00 AM
Pop Monday: i want to talk about Rebekah. And artistic movements. And emotions. And duality. As you may've noticed, i believe in a dichotic understanding of existence. i believe that we are both objective and subjective beings, and that we can not possibly be wholly honest until we recognize our inherent duality. Our emotions are an excellent example. Dostoevsky identified that one kind of anger, once triggered, would cease in the face of an obstacle, but another kind would continue to afflict the mind. What we commonly refer to as one emotion, is actually two experiences. And this is true of every emotion. There is the initial subjective chemical rush of anger, joy, sorrow, fear, and then there is our objective recognition that we experienced an emotion a second ago, and that there is every reason to still experience it. Rebekah is an artist. She takes empty photographs of trailer parks, and creates documentary montages of naked butts. Some very loud part of me insisted that this was all silliness, but i sensed a much more compelling truth being whispered, and turned my head to listen. When you talk to Rebekah about art, you get an idiosyncratically genuine sense of disillusionment. And that's when i realized that i had before me the reenacted genesis of Postmodernism. That artistic movements are very much like emotions, with a profoundly honest and reactionary spark, and a quite longer, intentional, diluted continuation. That the progenitors of a movement are not so much innovating as they are desperately grasping for a last resort, and that the rest of a movement is merely regurgitation for starving artists. All at once, i had found a new respect for the idea of art. So thank you, Rebekah. i don't do regrets, but it will always sadden me that i didn't get to explore you more. Current Mood: imaginative Current Music: "i'm surprised that you've never been told before that you're priceless and you're precious, even when you are not new" - Fascinating New Thing, Semisonic posted by Arthur @ 9/02/2002 06:55:00 PM	Monday, September 02, 2002
In this country alone, five people die every minute. i lose track of the presence of death. And of the presence of birth. My heart can't handle how many first kisses and last touches... i forget rain. But here's a goodbye to those five, and i'm very sorry i missed you. And here's a welcome to the children i'll never get to meet. Your heart will grow, do its best, and fail - but try not to forget. And i'll hear the sprinklers at night, dream of rain. Current Mood: mostly harmless Current Music: "i'm looking for someone to change my life, i'm looking for a miracle in my life. And if you could see what it's done to me..." - Question, The Moody Blues posted by Arthur @ 9/02/2002 02:03:00 AM
i am someone's blog of the day! That's a strange chunk of pineapple in my Jell-o. If people are actually reading and enjoying my blog, maybe i ought to stop pining and be more consistently reflective. Hopefully my spin-off blog will serve as an outlet for my girl troubles. Oops! Did i let the news out early? Stay tuned, bat-fans... Current Mood: secretive Current Music: "Why are all American girls so rough? Damn, that girl can't ever hurt you enough" - American Girls, Weezer posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 05:20:00 PM	Sunday, September 01, 2002
And the song that's finally lulling me (temporarily) out of my insanity and into sleep... if i had a million dollars, i'd buy your love * posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 07:00:00 AM
we could be sleeping in the flowers posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 06:58:00 AM
Do you even read me anymore? posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 05:09:00 AM
there's a light a certain kind of light that never shines on me i want my life to be here with you i wanna be with you "there's a way," i hear everybody sayin' to do everything that i can but what good will it do if i can't have you, if i can't have you? i'm a man can't you see that's what i am? and every breath that i take, i take from you but what good would breathing do if i can't have you, if i can't have you? baby, you don't know what it's like no, you don't know what it's like you don't know what it's like no, you don't know what it's like to love somebody to love somebody the way i love you posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 04:18:00 AM
There's something funereal about a library. Claustrophobic aisles through steel catacombs, crowded with tattered, deteriorating remains, arranged by cold decimal assignment. Millions of lives spelled out in arbitrary, archaic symbols of black and white. Millions more engaged in the ritual hibernation of reading, curled up between the covers in their silent, paper tombs. Fanatically they chant their souls away in the controlled, imagined world of others, lest they should find themselves in fresh air, creating a real world of their own. And, as is the tragedy of any organized religion, they grasp everything but the point - every volume, every chapter, every page, every stanza, every line, every word, every dangling leg of every lower-case 'y' is screaming just one thing: Live! Current Mood: volleying Current Music: "She was one of a kind, she's just mine all mine" - You Shook Me All Night Long, AC/DC posted by Arthur @ 9/01/2002 02:01:00 AM