fantasies lycanthrope it is always assumed that idealizations and fantasies are a pruning, a flattening of the dynamic. That they ignore pertinent features of reality and turn the monochromatic into technicolor with the most base of translations. However, i see great utility and great inevitably in them. In some sense or another it is how we cannot help but see the world. Any creatures with interests is already admitting to seeing the world in terms of its interests no matter how subtle or nuanced (as our human interests often are). So subjectivity abounds. And in this sense, fantasy is the place where deliberation, where play and practice often take place, it is where we find and define and refine our roles. After all, just to fantasize about something you have to at least appreciate some of its "actual" features. Fantasy is about highlighting certain aspects of any given thing, be it a person or an event. In this way, fantasy, like fiction, can be truer than the truth. Fantasy is a dramatic exaggerating of something so that we may interact with it at its most intense, at its implicit pinnacles or peaks and see from its most stark whether or not it is worth actualizing. Fantasy also gives us the ability to mutate the familiar, to simulate change. Fantasy is the mover shaker of life. Fantasy is what our senses feed. Without fantasies, our feelings would have no meaning, no context, because nothing would be suggested. There would only be that which is. Beauty is about suggestion, suggestion that goes on without any finite or definitive answer. Fantasy is its home. It's where we see the selves we are and are not. It's where we make others real, and not a collection of sensations. As for my fantasies...a lot of them involve me...and lately...a special friend. 020324 ... -{::EphemeralArcs::}- *claps* well said. Fantasies also take the canons, the archetypes of things, and use them in manners to further things, or perceptions of things, to their inherent principles, the principles suggested by our own emotions through existance. Fantasy can be surrealism, but I've also seen it be fundamentalist. The fantasy sequence is using the basis of ties to our nature, using symbols to communicate.. anything. Provokation and suggestion are often dependents. Fantasy can be more than dragons and fairy tales, but these canons are already so placed in human feeling, that it is often beneficial to use them. for example, read synoin, or many of fyn gula's stories. I adore fantasia. 020324 ... -{::EphemeralArcs::}- affame_le_geant http://blather.newdream.net/cgi-bin/blather?who;name=fyn%20gula the_court_of_the_crimson_king 020324 ... lycanthrope thanks ephemeral arcs...and thanks for saying those nice things about my letters from the front lines...it's not really me...it never is...but thanks! 020329 ... -{::EphemeralArcs::}- *bows*, you are most humbly welcome. 020329 ... megan wow.. what a word. it means so much and yet so little. without it, we are nothing more than wall street plodding along, but with it, we are nothing more than starry eyed lovers waking from sleep with morning breath. fantasies just need to make up their mind. 021115 ... User24 megan, I am now officially un-intentionally blather_stalking you. your words are very true, it is important to strike a balance between the real world, and the one you live in. (you plural) 030901 ... Alpha_Shell your fantasies grow into your daily life and pollute it [six-thousand faerie lights and half a dozen flames burning in unholy union] 040208 ... Death of a Rose of growing beyond this prison of flesh. being untried and tested. holding your face in my hands. feeling your gaze in relief. showing me the scars_that_make_up_you. willing to be with me. having none left. 040208 ... Forming Mind The world swirled, their words collided. For a passer-by, from a distance. They all cried at them. They all begged them to stop. Take the foot off the ledge, take that pill out of your hand. Take that heart into play. They did not listen, they smirked. They watched their lives unravel. In the taste of the pill under the tongue. The chopping of it in half. The grinding of its powder. The straw in hand. The smell. The intensity. The crimson pouring down. They lived it. They breathed it. And this is where the world looses its color. looses its beauty. They were in a fantasy. Fantasies that made it real. Addiction. She is addicted. And the theme music plays. Tripping in the background. Their voices are slow, she itches. She itches. Her eyes glow. Her hands are clammy. Her heart beats faster. Choking her throat. But she lives each time. And takes more every next time. 050131 what's it to you? who go blather from