fall through layers of ice; scintillate on impact
The air is fluctuating freakishly lately. The fog last night reminded me of a Stephen King story...which reminded me of King's cynicism and writing style. Recently, he could be writing my life plot. Including the verbosity and the almost tiresomely inevitable sexual subplot.
Full of mundane details taking center stage as visceral symbols of a fallen world.
Everything is breaking and scattering.
My only solace lately is that for the first time in my life I feel like I'm paying full attention.
The warm moments pass on by...nothing ever stays the same. But with some places like Epoch, we just keep on coming up with verses extemporaneously. Summer fades to ice, ice melts and washes away all trace.
This will not come again. Nor this, nor this.
Nod to Clive Barker for that one.
I've been thinking about the style of Pan's Labyrinth. A little synchronicity I guess.
Take the sacred and profane and twist the contrast control like crazy.
Very good movie incidentally, though the camera work irritated me in some hard to define way.
Too wobbly or something. Also, while flat characters may go well with the fairy tale concept, I think that the movie missed a lot of its potential because of the predictable characters trying to fulfill a novel contrast concept. Fairy tales are all about the black and white, light and dark, but the director revels too much in the gory horror aspects and it consequently comes off as an adult world that's a little too fat to fit into the rabbit hole any more.
Maybe that's the point, really.
I miss summer friends. I miss the fire of autumn. But I am so thankful that I was really living and so the memories are very vital.
I'm getting truly sappy lately. It's appalling.
Maybe I'll go senile before 30 and I won't even notice any more.
Full speed ahead to crazy old cat man.
I'll probably have snakes and fish and lemurs and penguins too. I will have philosophical debates over tea with them when humans can no longer tolerate my company.
Oh, but saying that is just more ice crunching on the roof.
Full of mundane details taking center stage as visceral symbols of a fallen world.
Everything is breaking and scattering.
My only solace lately is that for the first time in my life I feel like I'm paying full attention.
The warm moments pass on by...nothing ever stays the same. But with some places like Epoch, we just keep on coming up with verses extemporaneously. Summer fades to ice, ice melts and washes away all trace.
This will not come again. Nor this, nor this.
Nod to Clive Barker for that one.
I've been thinking about the style of Pan's Labyrinth. A little synchronicity I guess.
Take the sacred and profane and twist the contrast control like crazy.
Very good movie incidentally, though the camera work irritated me in some hard to define way.
Too wobbly or something. Also, while flat characters may go well with the fairy tale concept, I think that the movie missed a lot of its potential because of the predictable characters trying to fulfill a novel contrast concept. Fairy tales are all about the black and white, light and dark, but the director revels too much in the gory horror aspects and it consequently comes off as an adult world that's a little too fat to fit into the rabbit hole any more.
Maybe that's the point, really.
I miss summer friends. I miss the fire of autumn. But I am so thankful that I was really living and so the memories are very vital.
I'm getting truly sappy lately. It's appalling.
Maybe I'll go senile before 30 and I won't even notice any more.
Full speed ahead to crazy old cat man.
I'll probably have snakes and fish and lemurs and penguins too. I will have philosophical debates over tea with them when humans can no longer tolerate my company.
Oh, but saying that is just more ice crunching on the roof.