ninja

fulldamage

Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real


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ninja
fulldamage

reading global frequency

Pardon me for my lack of posts lately. I will probably be offline for a week or so here, traveling and attempting to keep the holiday season from ripping sanity out of my feeble clutches.

For those who requested it: Here is a picture of me circa Halloween. Pic also contains my favorite techrat kickboxing instructor, the deadly and talented Ms. Engleheart.



Here, a piece of a work in progress. May the yuletide find you well, safe and warm, ready to take another year by storm.

---
-begin 2:56 AM 11/13/04

Beyond the now, beyond the grasp of all that we know and hold dear.

There is so much space between us. Measured in molecular distance, particles make journeys that transcend time, oceans of age and reaction that dwarf our pitiful ages and aeons. Across all that distance, how could I hope to hear you, to know you, to make you understand?

There is a vision that I've had since I was very young, an optical trick, a glamour that lives behind my closed eyelids, that lives only for me. A whorl of green particle formations that dances and moves the way cities dance and move, uncountable lights that might be lives, that are at once too big and too small for me to calculate their meaning. Sometimes they resolve themselves into a rotating sphere, like a planet made entirely out of circuitboard glimmers, held together only for the length of a fancy before it splits apart, rotational patters becoming straight lines, columns and rows the escaping color of foxfire, and I am flying amidst them.

Within this placeless place, I lose all consciousness of height and breadth, up and down, forward and backward. There is only motion, only a sense of vertiginous spinning that holds me aloft, free of the cumbersome burden of gravity and the warping of space that that entails. I used to spin and spin in circles when I was little, trying to capture a little bit of that sensation -- now a few shots of whiskey and a cigarette can almost, almost take me there, but it's never quite the same.

Sometimes when it's quiet, even today, I still can visit this place, just by closing my eyes and staring a little bit to the left of nothing, and waiting patiently. I used to spend hours there, wandering the abyss along viridian paths, sometimes struggling to hold them together and keep them coherent through concentration and force of will alone, other times riding the chaotic currents whereever they might happen to take me.

On days when grey hangs over the horizon, leaving just a sliver of sky in between earth and Null, I imagine that the city, all our cities, abide by the same rules, and with the proper focus and application we can make them shift and move, resolve them into the spheres that they are born as, or split them up into streets and alleyways that we can navigate by hardened thought alone.

With my backpack's weight upon my back to ballast me against all the demands of yawning ambient noise, I seek to find that space, the quiet lull within motion, that aegis behind my eyes. Through focus I can be anywhere, move anyway, exist in any space that I need to.

All it is, is a matter of finding that space. The yearning that speaks inside me each day is a memory of victory and the interconnectedness of all systems, all things. The practice of Life lies in remembering the sensations your heart knows are possible, and drawing them into accord with the small piece of reality our limited perceptions reveal to us. I clutch the blood-bourne beating of my chest, wrap my arms around myself and know that I am fragile, temporary and no different than anyone or anything else that has ever happened, and that at the same time I am unique, and I can do anything. Anything at all.

I am a superhero, and the rain proves it so.

KB
-- end 3:18 AM 11/13/04

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damn that's tight. trying to think of ways to translate that into an abstract video, or some kind of sound.

but shit, i know exactly what you mean.

thanks for this.


BACKDATED ENTRIES ARE FOR PUNKS! BUK! BUK!

and the king snake ain't. no. mutha. fuckin'. punk.

You are quite welcome, sir.

But I do not know this "backdate" of which you speak. I am able to bend time through sheer force of will, and am writing this to you from the future as we speak. Oh, what? Yeah, it IS tough being this goddamned amazing. I seriously don't know how I do it.

Happy Holidays, Hermit.

Better days are always just to the left of Here and Now and somewhere over the Rainbow. Meanwhile, seek truth, grab onto it and don't let go.

Much love, dove.

I'm cool with the better days. It's the worser days that I wish someone would give me advance warning about...

Rosemary. For Remembrance

"The practice of Life lies in remembering the sensations your heart knows are possible, and drawing them into accord with the small piece of reality our limited perceptions reveal to us. I clutch the blood-bourne beating of my chest, wrap my arms around myself and know that I am fragile, temporary and no different than anyone or anything else that has ever happened, and that at the same time I am unique, and I can do anything. Anything at all.

I am a superhero, and the rain proves it so."

Funny little city, Potential. ::Wink.::

Re: Rosemary. For Remembrance

Sometimes you forget to appreciate the place where you live. ^_^

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