Get on your knees, you're free

Still Life With Motion

The Sun burst open. it was 6:00 am

nature held itself in a limbo of grace

earthly objects took on an otherworldly sort of poise. 

the boughs curved to protect their sky. The skies curved in turn, to protect the boughs that framed them

the colors of the city had names all their own. mauve became towers, shadow became faun, sky became parades, grass became known, and trees became shift and switch and suede. tiny playthings of homes swooned to the harmony of their own artificial being  

the sun shone as if through a prism. But it was only eyes, bloodshot corona, white light showing itself for what it was

fractioned white, the sun's crown. the blades beam under the beams with pride

the light had already begun to change. the little people lived their little lives. the blades twitched, the microscopic ornaments churned the earth so we could marvel and stir at the way the green stands in dirt like a moving ocean. the cosmos played its part in our game of what we choose to see

human beings basked in the luxuriousness of their own confusion

"A little poison now and then: that makes for agreeable dreams. And much poison in the end, for agreeable death. " - Nietzsche

the city stood proud of itself. nature lent its hand, and the city gave it back. at least as far as the eye and the lens are concerned

even darkness when it fractured the light had something to say, in its own way, it greeted the day as the day turned dusk and the golds yellowed and the greens greyed. The dark did not swallow the day, it is summer after all, even in San Francisco, and the strange musings of the night do not rob the day of its light, but lend a hand to its preternaturalness, in which we so take part and joy

monuments, pictures seen again and again, somehow shown in a different light. because the light was different, and even those stupid famous houses shined

 attempting to affect the dimension of things, to reach in and screw the ontological bolts and buttons of the scales amount to no more than semblance, and seemed to have no effect but to increase the sublimity.

"He's a survival artist, an expert in disguise and deception. He commanded his own agents and organized and carried out his own operations." 

and then for a time, the sublime reigned, and the pieces rested where they knew they fit best, where they knew they would never be quite so well again. dance of sunbeams, transportation of words combined, blue moon in a bottle with smattering of red gone leathered and green gone gold. light unbounded except by what makes it more creative. identity unrestrained

 —

Disposable Kodak Beauty

Treasures from a water damaged disposable camera

 

 

 

 

Unappreciative

i am

Garden of Eden By Light of Night

Raw frankincense, honey whiskey in a jar, Rammstein - Sehnsucht, and The Girl Who Played With Fire.

This is a place I very often seek. It is a necessity, but these days it is a luxury. It's a trancelike state that requires stimulation of every one of the five senses in order to activate others. Once those five are in place, others open, emotional consciousness expands, luxuriates in its own being in a way it has no space, no safety to otherwise.

The right feeling of self in skin, muscles, and bones - usually requiring having been worked hard in the last day at most. Incense, always. The frankincense is particularly transporting. It was a gift from my mom. It requires also beautiful surroundings, unusual lights, lit candles, altar trinkets, and the dark of night or hard rain or snow, or better yet - a storm. Some strong spirits for the palate. The right music for the mood. And of course, the element without which all this is impossible - lack of interruption (really solitude, but is possible with an understanding partner). When all that is in place, I am transported to that inner sanctum. And that is the only place where true peace exists.

It usually looks something like this:

Garden of Eden

Stayed in all day. Rolled around on soft white sheets in drifting sunlight and pink icicle lights. Metric lullaby in the background.

Tugged by softness at the edge of something sweet, that thing that gives you that feeling of just having cried, of release of relief. The city is bright today, assertion of freedom and pride in the air. And we burned incense and ate first meal of the day at 3:00pm toast with truffled goat cheese, sautéed beet greens marinated in pickling spice, butter, fried egg, sherry vinaigrette tossed arugula, spiced garlic confit, thick-sliced homemade bacon, with sparkling wine.

A tempestuous darkness has made a habit out of descending upon me at night. Punches, hard steps long strides makeup dark destroying beats and sounds. So mornings are my haven, even if they begin in the afternoon.

P.S. Constantly updated my Working List of Most Beautiful Albums. Just added Rammstein's Sehnsucht.

Found Beauty

• Discard an axiom
• Tape your mouth
• Trust in the you of now
• Honor thy error as a hidden intention / Your mistake was a hidden intention
• Make a blank valuable by putting it in an exquisite frame
• You can only make one dot at a time
• Look at a very small object, Look at its center
• Tidy up
• What mistakes did you make last time
• Cascades
• Assemble some of the instruments in a group and treat the group
• Get your neck massaged
• Into the impossible
• Bridges –build –burn