(no subject)
sitting outside ukrops at a table eating a fresh salad and drinking an ice cold bottle of rum and coke, while cold rain is falling down in a subdued frenzy.
Well...that's what I planned anyway.
reality:
when i arrived, a girl in blue had already mostly packed up the salad counter...strike one. Okay, no problem *deep breath*, I'll just get a panini from that older lady with glasses instead. "Sorry, your sandwich isn't going to be hot, is that alright?" "...um..ye, yeayea okay that's fine." ugh, strike two. I go outside...all the tables and chairs are put away...fuck. strike three. whew, okay. *breath* "alright no problem, the ground against the wall will be just as cozy." funny that the only thing that came through all the way was the holy union of Sir Caffeine and Lady Alcohol, even down to the ice cold bottle. ahhh.
Anyway, all this is not to in any way belittle the event, i was just pointing out the contrast between idealism and reality.
So. Moving on...
* ** *** **** ***** ******
Leaning with the east wall in a spot with my name on it, devouring a beautiful sandwich and sipping on cum. ah...the simple things. In the hypnosis of self, I couldn't help but lose to some degree focus of those surroundings most immediate to my fixed vision. And, the less I focused, the more I noticed, as if the world contained inside my peripheral vision somehow took on a form more unique to a MagicEye image. On those occasions of conscious vulnerability, I gained a sharp awareness of the depth of the 3rd dimension. The near bushes seemed flat and cutout, photoshopped into a "rain shower" matrix along with other 2-D cutouts such as a bike rack and a storefront, but varying the degree of waviness based on the strength of my lack of fixed vision.
Even after my sandwich had mysteriously been waxed off the face of existence, I lingered, and let Jack Kerouac read me a story. Maybe it was the 9 choruses of poetry, or maybe it was the shot or so of 151, or maybe it was neither, but as I continued the general aim of my visual perception, other senses took another step forward. In any event, I came to realize the direct metaphor between this particular environment and the symphony orchestra. I will attempt to tell you why: First of all, the droplets made a bit of an animated entrance onto the concrete, sprinkling and sparkling and hopping like a small child warming to a cold swimming pool. Or...like the trill of flutes and perky pizzicato of a lush string section. The basses kicked in as an suv pulled out of a parking space and exited off stage right, to which answered the lefthand-side violinistic treble "shwoosh" of fleeting cars. And all the while, in front of me and just past those bushes I mentioned earlier, stood a large broad tree that actually looked more like a mushroom with leaves due to its abundance of foliage. This dominating character would sway and gesture, and under its conducting seemed to me to fall everything else.
soon, time became Time. And so I stood up and walked home.
****** ***** **** *** ** *
Now, time to compose.
Wait, no...actually, time for Family Guy...and then compose.
*_*
Well...that's what I planned anyway.
reality:
when i arrived, a girl in blue had already mostly packed up the salad counter...strike one. Okay, no problem *deep breath*, I'll just get a panini from that older lady with glasses instead. "Sorry, your sandwich isn't going to be hot, is that alright?" "...um..ye, yeayea okay that's fine." ugh, strike two. I go outside...all the tables and chairs are put away...fuck. strike three. whew, okay. *breath* "alright no problem, the ground against the wall will be just as cozy." funny that the only thing that came through all the way was the holy union of Sir Caffeine and Lady Alcohol, even down to the ice cold bottle. ahhh.
Anyway, all this is not to in any way belittle the event, i was just pointing out the contrast between idealism and reality.
So. Moving on...
* ** *** **** ***** ******
Leaning with the east wall in a spot with my name on it, devouring a beautiful sandwich and sipping on cum. ah...the simple things. In the hypnosis of self, I couldn't help but lose to some degree focus of those surroundings most immediate to my fixed vision. And, the less I focused, the more I noticed, as if the world contained inside my peripheral vision somehow took on a form more unique to a MagicEye image. On those occasions of conscious vulnerability, I gained a sharp awareness of the depth of the 3rd dimension. The near bushes seemed flat and cutout, photoshopped into a "rain shower" matrix along with other 2-D cutouts such as a bike rack and a storefront, but varying the degree of waviness based on the strength of my lack of fixed vision.
Even after my sandwich had mysteriously been waxed off the face of existence, I lingered, and let Jack Kerouac read me a story. Maybe it was the 9 choruses of poetry, or maybe it was the shot or so of 151, or maybe it was neither, but as I continued the general aim of my visual perception, other senses took another step forward. In any event, I came to realize the direct metaphor between this particular environment and the symphony orchestra. I will attempt to tell you why: First of all, the droplets made a bit of an animated entrance onto the concrete, sprinkling and sparkling and hopping like a small child warming to a cold swimming pool. Or...like the trill of flutes and perky pizzicato of a lush string section. The basses kicked in as an suv pulled out of a parking space and exited off stage right, to which answered the lefthand-side violinistic treble "shwoosh" of fleeting cars. And all the while, in front of me and just past those bushes I mentioned earlier, stood a large broad tree that actually looked more like a mushroom with leaves due to its abundance of foliage. This dominating character would sway and gesture, and under its conducting seemed to me to fall everything else.
soon, time became Time. And so I stood up and walked home.
****** ***** **** *** ** *
Now, time to compose.
Wait, no...actually, time for Family Guy...and then compose.
*_*