He became what she feared.
This could have easily been an illustration of something scary-scary, rather than funny-scary. Masks show us who we are. Horror is much stronger when you are expecting it.
WITHOUT IMAGES THERE IS NO PROOF THAT A PARTICULAR FEELING EVER HAPPENED AT ALL.
-jahh / Parallel Chances Tend to Neglect
Jeff over at his Irre(2x) blog seems to have both quite often.
Why be picky? It all winds up in the same place.
My task is to fit together model plastic brains.
Below a high window harsh daylight tumbles down shaft-like mixing w/ dust rising. She pauses to enter the slipstream before diving into the daimonion. Her silhouette sets off a harsh, abrupt shadow as she secures a promise by commencing to dance.
In this transparent essence, she madly spins w/ the intensity + reverence of a Dervish. Her head is thrown back to belie ecstasy + invite delusion. W/ one hand to the small of the back, the other to her chin she sends the brief chiffon flailing, seven veils flying into a luminous smokey blur sending dark oblique fluid shapes rocking on the rammed floor following her every course. She glances in + out of the late sun's spotlight unknowing if her shadow follows or leads her. Perhaps it does both. The jealous shadow seems to pull her repeatedly into the focusing light as if needing to be seen.
This work is neither, this work is both.
That what before was merely forbidden, is now utterly impossible.
Reasons to create are noticeable and obvious only because of their absence. A vocation
unquestionable but questioned often.
Have I tuned into an inappropriate muse? I have in mind to create a movie that can read
the audience’s lips. Lacking the media I am limited to silent pictures on walls.
-jahh / Minotaur - there is a shadow of a monster on the front porch -pg 32
8 • Don’t move my constant.
The solstice Maine heavens were held completely crisp + still, untroubled by electromagnetic waves. In the dead of night, a startling subatomic rumble echos through the dark, ending w/ a clutching the inside your throat. In forest blackness there lurks a claustrophobic dread. A rabbit cries for its life + looses. When all is quiet again the silence is ten times as deep + opaque.
Field stones that were sled over decades ago became the low walls that are boundaries, trails + points. i believed through some keen higher power a mystery could be solved by backing up, up + away one could behold an epiphany in the stone lines created by the walls. With just the right aerial view some gigantic cryptic message would make known the secrets we have been asking for millennium.
Stalwart midnight treks revealed the snow turning silver under the spherical spotlight. The luster ricocheted through the bare trees, making birch shine. Surroundings became silhouettes plunged into the inky blackness. i imagined each soul down to the tiniest critter opening one eye as my shoe popped + crunched passed. Then closing slowly, feeling no threat.
i became mindful of the night sky while living in Damariscotta. Northern lights are big theater. The heavens shifted into their familiar winter pattern, sitting still long enough you'd be rewarded w/ a shooting star. i had won the a prize at the end of the day when i felt complete by looking up, + getting lost in the vertigo.
When your choices are limited completeness is simple.
Books; examine (once again) how many books you want to move the rest of your life.
YOU CAN SEE THEM HAPPENING.
Another time it takes years to pull your attention full circle.