All entries for March 2005

March 05, 2005

The face is of itself

Fearometer: 8

What happens is the only thing that could have happened.

Things could be different if you were able to change the tuning on one of the cosmological constant's 100 decimal places. As this eludes you, another option is allowing a meta version of you to live out the course of her life in your mind. They are free from the constraints of time and space and materiality. Occassionally their reality glances yours, you change the course of your life in accordance with a discovery made in their realm.

They never quite escape the background hum of fears and hopes in your mind of course. They are able to soldier on when your writing becomes spider-like and illegible. Although, on the days when the only option is sleep and drawn curtains their image seems to fade a little.

No Cults Please

Dear Guy from Melbourne

I am not interested in your cult of eternal enlightenment or a bloke with a beard and robes enlightening me.

March 02, 2005

Gaps in meaning, like gaps in clothing

Fearometer: 8

Youve been away for a while so you drop by to say hello when you get back. You've not been too far. You just dropped off the radar for a while. And so you drop the odd strap in words and expose something of youself, something memorable or secret so they remember you. And a version of you gets sketched in their minds.

You feel glad that you don't really know who you're speaking to. They dont see the limbs of yours amputated by their viewfinder. You are the author of this self, irresponsible of your charge though you are. You don't have to make it beautiful like art at school. This has no definite borders, you can make it assymetric or ugly, or one day destroy it altogether. You want it to be honest, but you're a liar by nature, and then artifice, there's always artifice.

You feel drawn to this exposure. You create an edifice around it. This definition in words helps to order the fuzz of your thoughts and trap you in the place it inscribes. This is indulgent, in the opposite way that the year in bed was, time away from the defining eyes of others. This is indulgence made thrilling.

March 2005

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