Having a cryptomnesia moment: 

I can always find fault with a decision I make, because every quandary starts off with many angles. Outcome and go - and over time the woven memories of cause and effect have proven to be a graceful acceptance of it all. 

Even dystopian fiction has a very bright future.

The fullness is often overwhelming ... life coming and leaving in a myriad of ways. The drifting, shifting, meandering and forcing of it all.  And here I am … sitting and making marks on a piece of paper ... listening to what they say between the lines and in the shifting of colors. Making  meaning out of my sometime random and racing imagination. Finding solace in the fact that after thinking out all the scenarios I can possibly come up with, I then remember; what WILL happen is something I had not even thought of.

With all of the time that has been and will be I find it strange that we are anything anywhere at any time. Synchronicity trips along the path and we call it dancing.

The dance goes on.

Endless possibilities are. 

Racing past each blank moment. Each idea waving wildly to entice. And most, in turn, being loudly thwarted. Each then retreats, lowering itself into the pit of ideas that lie-in-wait, until someones comes along to animate.

I’m not a big fan of time. Neither do I believe in physics. So it follows that I wouldn't be into capitalistic ideas. Nothing exists without impermanence - so I wait a few.

For the moment, I am off deadline. Exhaustion creeps in when I sit. It's then I feel everything is happening in the next room. There is a fuzzy wall between my energy and the thing that is happening in front of me. Things are happening in front on me. I simply step into it. I am reminded of Nijinsky saying - when asked why his grand jete looks like levitation - I  simply step up and stand in the air. 

I don’t really remember if I’ve ever believed in the notion that we are all in the same boat - perhaps in the same slip stream. Mostly, I am alone paddling, constantly going back for a second look at my dreaded conversation remorse, avoiding the unpredictable waterfall or spinning around and around just for fun. 

 The magicians silk is draped over the prize  - covering what we think we know. But when revealed we are sorry we ever tried.

Art is the sensuous expression of ideas. Hegel said something close.

Amuse me, I'm thinking too hard.
First up  ….  I say ready, and I got nothing — then something comes to me. Sometimes all you have to do is say you got nothing, for the inspiration to fall in your lap. It’s the open sesame of the mental cave, that, once opened, out tumbles all the ideas of purpose. That’s my angle and I’m sticking to it. I enjoy being near the edge of disastrous creating, where the art begins to take on a life of its own. Even when I am wrangling in the work through process, I am always surprised with the outcome.

Second … Using one point perspective is like putting a ruler to your intuitive process. I do like to see those invisible lines vanishing into the distance, but only in real life when they can change with every step. On paper it is annoyingly close to perfection. I also like to see  a rainbow around everything, kinda cool.

And there has to be third … An indelible photographic snap of a man in my mental scrapbook. He could sort of, you know, place his hands on the carburetor of a running engine and sort of, you know, massage it to calm it. It would respond to him. this was his claim to manly mechanic fame.

Whatever you fear the most, is probably your best way to go.

Exhibit E / Burdensome Keychain

It has occurred to me that we all carry some form of keychain around with us on a day to day basis. The object itself takes on different forms, having to do with need, want, and what happened to be our last fob gift. The object itself notwithstanding, the emotional and physiological weight of the keychain is often heavy duty. This is what I need to carry in my pocket: a charm of subtle nagging, and the simple, yet unforgettable people met along the way.

Saying very little, as they were practiced in the art of omission.

Paying in cryptomnesia arrears.

Is there room for another life in here somewhere? Where do those numbers come from? Why can’t X be just X. Why does it have to be something else? Not going to the garden party is not good.To be a good Mathematician you have to really want to find the correct answer. I just never cared that much. I'm okay with not knowing, I'm okay with unshaped-ness of bits, I'm okay with open wounds for spirits to come and go. You okay? 

Well,  here we are … and in this huge vastness of nothingness, I'm astounded that we are anything, at any time, at anyplace … but here we are together.

Open a can of worms, what do you see? 

I mean, besides worms.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, 

till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

- Rudyard Kipling.

I am still learning.

- Michelangelo

Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.

- Ray Bradbury

Beauty and the devil are the same thing.

- Robert Mapplethorpe

Metta: Loving Kindness Illuminated

Pages 8 & 9 with insert - Above words from the Metta Sutra.

All the thoughts of a turtle are turtle.   - Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with, the Mock Turtle replied, and then the different branches of Arithmetic Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.    - Lewis Carroll 

River of Mnemosyne  #9 /9

River of Mnemosyne  #8 /9

River of Mnemosyne  #7 /9

 

River of Mnemosyne  #6 /9

River of Mnemosyne  #5 /9