redtree_innerviews_now_now redTree i was quite moved and inspired by your post, days_like_these. the desire to break out from the normal, explore personal freedom and go beyond expectation drips from the words...actually all of your posts are life affirming and stimulating. i once wrote a story about a man who became a statue and was curious about your declaration concerning the same goal...why? 080304 ... now_now Thank you so much, redTree I'm sincerely flattered. Your innerviews [as well as those of others] have always been enlightening days_like_these started as a way to cope with early-onset spring fever but it ended as a sort of ode to escapism, if that makes sense Insofar as the desire to become a statue is concerned, it stems from the notion that often I feel overwhelmed with the too too much of life. It consumes & everyone seems to be vibrating [read: humming] we all move so fast. I like the idea of stillness for its own sake. People like to “zone out” to relax, confusing not moving with stillness, but zoning and stillness are two very different modes of being to be still to stop humming to hear one’s own heartbeat without having to strain over the din of typewriter keys and ringing phones driving cars and endless dialogue. to quiet the mind & listen [just listen] with sculpted ears It’s a sort of a reverse Galatea in a way. [perhaps she preferred her chiseled existence] Rather than take something ideal and make it flesh, take something real & flawed and make it an idealized version of perfect stillness. Always observing. Marble cool it warms to the touch. Not alive, but almost. It’s a pleasant fiction, no? now_now, redTree what was your inspiration [read: intention] for a man_made_marble? 080304 ... redTree beautiful response...i liked the galatea reference. (jean-leon gerome's "pygmalion and galatea" is stunning) stillness is a virtue. to listen without hearing is an art. as for my statue...i rarely have an intention in a story. usually it becomes a block print of a parallel existence, yet if i were to an attempt a metaphorical explanation it would surely represent the inevitable result of drug use...the inability to feel...the incapacity to relate...the zombie-like sense of nothingness... where would you go if you could travel through time? 080305 ... now_now Your concept of a desolate existence is fascinating While it supposes a sort of senseless existence could it not also propose a reality of infinite potential? When there is nothing, there’s always the possibility that it might at any moment become something numbness subsiding, giving way to blinding pain or pleasure That’s just my take though. My mind is nothing but a dizzying series of dichotomies growing exponentially. If you’d ever see it fit to share, [BlindProphetess@gmail.com] I’d love to read your story. Not from a critical standpoint, but rather to nourish the creative mind with the new and the sublime [Time travel] That’s such a beautifully loaded question. I suppose I’d have to break it down in the following ways: Where [read: when] I would go if I could affect change. & Where I would go if I were simply observing the world around me. If I could travel through time interacting with history I’d visit Germany in the early 1100s to study at the feet of a pre-Renaissance Renaissance woman Hildegard Von Bingen Though I have a universalistic view when it comes to religion and don’t align myself with any particular doctrine or faith I would humble myself before this Christian mystic This not-quite-saint and beg her to impart even the most basic of her teachings. She was a poet, artist, scientist, playwright, musician, botanist & to be there when she slips into the throes of a vision or to stand in the middle of an echoing monastery while her chats hang haunting & heavy as incense in the air [She wrote the first Gregorian chants for women taken in a new, personally devised, notation & diverging from the accepted form. singing them feels like floating the soul snaking like colored smoke from the lips] to attempt to bridge the gap between the defined and undefined to conceptualize the infinite through a sort of Stendhal apprenticeship where the music, the art, the rapture are so overwhelming one cannot help but see beyond this finite world. Were I simply an observer I'd spend my time touring Greece and Rome circa 400 BCE Experiencing first hand the ideas of classical antiquity as they formed & developed how amazing to hear Socrates in his own voice [I’d have to spend some time working on my Ancient Greek] to hear the great orators recite the works of Homer before it was mangled by an ancient game of telephone to see our political model in it’s infancy even more enticing is the possibility to observe a world that was still a mystery to so many science religion technology innovation we’ve discovered so much that there is little left to explain we create new riddles because we’ve solved all the old we know why it rains how to measure a year why the stars change so little that once inspired awe & and became the stuff of myths exists as the unknown O to rediscover the mystery of the past to watch as people fabricate their own reality to reconcile that which defies present logic That being said would you rather travel through countless eras as an observer unable to prevent ill-conceived plans or avert disaster or would you rather or be able to change the past and future even though doing so might have cataclysmic consequences? 080305 ... ... _________________________________________________________ 080305 ... now_now stretcher above 080306 ... sorry....... don't work that way 080306 ... ... so realized but it was worth a try thanks 080306 ... redTree thanks for your interest in my story. it can be found on blue under the name fyn gula. (affame le geant) saumboo, the man-turned-stone, is encased in "exponential" potential, simply waiting for a timely revelation to turn him back into flesh so his true wonder and gift to humanity can be released... thanks also for introducing me to hildegard_von_bingen. i listened to some of her achingly beautiful chant works. as for your question on time travel, i would be more interested in using a two man saw to fell trees and draft horses to clear land, then build a home from logs, mud, and stone, grow my own food and raise a family under the ever-changing weather. why do you call yourself now now? 080307 ... now_now I've blathed under a few different names in the past, and as a relatively new blather user [months rather than years] the entries were crude superficial not particularly to my liking or simply alien in retrospect [read: your own commentary on blue affame_le_geant_kemulyan_legend] So after taking a break from blather I wanted to adopt a new pseudonym a new perspective and try again It's amazing how one's style or voice can change even in a short amount of time based on a name based on perspective In the past I felt I was riding the coattails of the person[s] who introduced me to red_and_blue & was blathing from the wrong place self_conscious & awkward or blatantly self_indulgant now[_now] I feel less self_conscious & more confident with regard to my own self_expression In the end, that's the point no? But as for the more literal meaning: Now Now is the title of a song performed by St_Vincent the first time I heard it I fell in love with her style [Annie Clark is the brains & talent of the operation she used to tour and play guitar for Sufjan Stevens & Polyphonic Spree] the song opens with a series of harmonic tones on the guitar [the effect is rather like the ringing of bells and indirectly reminds me of Sæglópur by Sigur Rós another mind-blower for me] and after a few verses sung by a light & somewhat ethereal voice it breaks down to distorted guitar soloing it's not particularly lofty [though aspects are rather innovative] but for some reason it stirs something within it's amazing how often the most simple things can have the greatest impact [seeing this performed live changed my life & triggered a shouldn't-you-be-doing-more/ what-are-you-doing-with-your-life crisis of sorts which pushed me to create [[music, art, etcetera]] & brought me back to blather] also amazing is the fact that most things have the greatest impact on my life are to do with music additionally with regard to now_now as a name it may seem rather inconsequential & sort of geeky but I love words both generally & specifically I love roots & origins prefixes & suffixes I love the way they feel in my mouth now_now is fun to wrap your lips around it reminds me of a bell curve starting small with the n arcing around the o [almost as if you could fit a tangerine in the middle such a small word] and closing again on the diphthong w repeating it is likened to a sine curve now_now is a comforting phrase that can also be a reprimand & I like the seemingly redundant coupling of words so that being said, I've always been curious... crOwl what is it? or is it anything? I know there is [are] a blathe[s] to this end but what is it to you? as I have yet to acclimate to the tight-knit family of skites on red [& blue] I'm not quite sure what a crOwl is to me perhaps that will come with time & do you find that your different names have different tendancies / styles / preferences? Post script I am enthralled with your [read: fyn gula's] writing series' on blue your style is [was] inspiring and picking through makes me want to take up writing again [in a more [[or less]] tratitional sense] 080307 ... now_nows gammar coach also amazing is the fact that most things that have the greatest impact on my life are to do with music 080307 ... gRammar [geez! hahaha] 080307 ... redTree i'm also a fan of st. vincent..."marry me" is incredible..."now now" is on my ipod along with "paris is burning" and the beatles' cover, "dig a pony." my daughter is using a polyphonic spree song in her wedding this summer. i have tons of sufjan and sigur ros. their live show is a must for everyone. see "heima", their stunning film, if you haven't already... as important as stopping to hear the fragile and vulnerable honking of returning geese or a powerful wind whistling through pine needles. music fills in the spaces between our thoughts and provides an ever-changing and evolving soundtrack for our spectral vision. i love how important and valuable things seem to be to you, as well as magnified, intricate and defined. you carefully present yourself as a thankful one who loves their life and the intrinsic nature of it, opening yourself to find the treasure inside and all the present-wrapped potential. thanks for the generous effort you are giving to this innerview... like you said crowl is already defined here at red and in stories such as monet_on_bartlett, neues_leben, cadeau_de_vous, and vier_seizoenen. however, the origin comes from a friend of mine (once very active in the rennaisance festival circuit) i met in squirrel hill, a small village that is part of pittsburgh. he had a half acre garden he made that was full of self-made sculptures and we often hung out in it, smoked homegrown and discussed i ching and the tao. he came up with the term to describe his black cat that either sat with us or taught lessons to birds on the rooftop of his attic apartment, since it seemed to be cat+rabbit+owl=crowl. from there we started calling each other "crowl" because it came to represent one who teaches another how to live from the inside out. unfortunately he moved to washington state and we've lost touch but the truths he gave me and the experiences we shared are indelibly etched upon my expanding soul. i used to think my names took on separate parts of myself, like frAnk, farmfish, and fyn_gula, but i don't believe that anymore. i see it now like the garden i'm building for my oldest daughter's wedding. it's 15'x 15' and consists of two circles inside a square with a 3' wide fieldstone mosiac path, snaking within it, and surrounded by a 3' high rough cut lumber fence and 4 entrances(NSEW) making it all one entity. it's my piece de resistance. it is the one thing that anyone will be able to look at and i can explain my entire reason for being here on this earth. (some names like redtree, geschenke, blumengarten, things we lost in the fire were created for easier archived storage) thanks for your compliments. i'm honored to know you've been checking out my writing. read also...square_the_circle and i_dreamt_that_i_dreamt_01...these stories are a collaboration with unhinged who is a dear friend and talented writer, musician, and vocalist. i look forward to more of your writing. who are your favorite heroes of fiction? why? 080308 ... now_now dig_a_pony is on my 'space page & it was one of the live treats we got at her show When I was doing my undergrad work, I took a class that was, basically, a history of civilization through gardening. We studied everything from the hanging gardens of Babylon to the mosaic gardens of Turkey to monastic Medieval gardens to the symbolism found in Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. The final project in this course was to design a garden that included at least two design elements we had studied. This project was one of the greatest & most meaningful I have ever undertaken. [I designed a high-walled walking meditation garden with a hedge maze that led to a Japanese Zen garden at its center surrounded by turf-bank benches and flowing water.] I can't imagine having the resources & ability to create it, but I can, at the very least, appreciate how fulfilling it would be to do so. It was one of those rare occasions in life when I was sure of every detail & felt a real resonance with what I had created. I have tremendous respect for those people that that know, without a doubt, who they are & what they stand for; their idea & beliefs. I have an even greater respect for those that can make their beliefs manifest. [I find myself lost from time to time & only seem to find myself in conversations with others. All of a sudden these life_affirming values I forgot I had will fall from my mouth & for a moment I have a pseudo_Jungian moment of self_actualization. The deja_vu of self_discovery]. Moving on... Books are written so that man might have an archetype to defy daily I am an eater of books, I love them dearly & there are many heroes of fiction that I adore [Ender, Equality 7-2521, Harrison Bergeron, Dinah of the_red_tent]. Additionally, I have my heroes of fiction writing whether they be such for creating clever characters, a compelling plot or simply employing masterful storytelling [Palahniuk, Vidal, & the Decemberists... yep, the band]. But for the sake of bandwidth [ha ha], let me try to economize my adoration. My first hero of literature would have to be Eric Sanderson from the_raw_shark_texts. He is the unwitting victim_turned_hero of his own story & he undergoes this metamorphosis in a completely unassuming way [which I find quite charming]. Upon waking one day, he finds himself devoid of all memories of self. Through a series of small investigations & odd occurrences he finds that he is the victim of a pseudo-literal predator swimming in the steams of human consciousness, preying on his memories. He starts a journey that sees him hiding in libraries, creating a boat from mere abstract thought & piecing together his past by slipping in and out of waking_dreams. Steven Hall, the author, happens to be one of my major heroes of fiction writing. He takes a bevy of pre-existing theories dealing with meta-physics, philosophy, criticism, linguistics [in the reversal of the concept of cognition_modeling. Or rather converting the symbol back into the abstract as well as turning abstract concept into reality] & weaves them together to create something completely new that is both a compelling story & a thought_provoking series of ideas. Another hero of mine is Sophie Amundsen from sophies_world written by Jostein Gaarder. While she is neither particularly valiant nor daring, she merits mention based on the fact that she embodies an idealized sense of wonder. She is a young person thirsting for knowledge & opens her mind to the teachings of others: always willing to learn. That is absolutely heroic, especially for a young person. It is my sincerest hope that people read Gaarder’s book & realise the gift that knowledge can be. Also, Sophie takes in the knowledge without compromising her sense of curiosity & child_like wonder. Often, there seems to be an inversely proportionate relationship between knowledge & awe. The more we know of this world the less we are amazed [though I, myself, find constant exceptions to this rule. Take the human body for example: I know how it works, but am endlessly fascinated by chemical brain processes & the complete, cyclical rebuilding of the body, cell_by_cell]. Sophie seems to grasp onto the knowledge given her & uses it to open her mind, letting in more possibilities for rapture & amazement. And finally... Have you ever been to that place? The one between asleep & awake? the in between limbo the twilight of dreaming the dawn of waking that moment when you first rouse. you feel yourself stir not quite awake but aware you imagine yourself rising going about your morning routine work home waking again you see it in your minds_eye Life goes on seasons change & you see your life as a series of stepping stones you make decisions that surprise even you and you start building building a family building a home building a life aging gracefully fulfilled & then in an instant in the blink of an eye that life evaporates you stir once more you’ve lived a lifetime in a moment of morning waking sunrise imaginings a flickering I have lived a hundred lives in those twilight moments between asleep and awake I have watched these copies of copies of copies of me toil build cherish live die they are more hearty more compassionate more cruel more sincere more brave more endearing than I will ever be in this awaked life they are possibility in those few moments when the brain cannot distinguish between reality & fiction these copies these wonders these spit_second_lifetimes 080312 ... now_now Oh, I forgot to mention Mark Z Danielewski as a hero of fiction writing His books are not only interesting so far as the plot is concerned but they are also visually stimulating [artistic] to read in house_of_leaves he highlights words of interest by printing them in different colors and tells a story within a story within a story in only_revolutions the book is writen in such a way that you read two separate [but entertwined] stories 180 pages at a time starting from either end of the book [flipping the book over after those 180 pages are read to start the next set] additionally printed on each page are 180 words of random facts it's a [literally] dizzying feat of creative engineering 080314 ... redTree it warms my heart to know you have placed such soulful practice into designing a garden. and i appreciate your respect. i esteem it highly for you are one that has the moon and stars in their eyes. thanks for these new reading projects for me... what is your reading process? when and where would someone find you reading? 080314 ... now_now I always have the best reading experiences when I should be doing something else. It seems that I unearth man's greatest undiscovered work of fiction right when I have a project for work due. When I was working on my BA, I seemed to find the rarest gems when I should've been writing my thesis. For me the following are necessities: A worn overstuffed armchair it has to be that perfect shape so that you might drape yourself across it or spend hours curled heals_over_head legs akimbo slung over the arms my favorite reading chair is in furniture purgatory right now, awkwardly in our would-be-dining room. I don't mind, save the fact that I haven't been able to read a book from cover to cover since I moved in, having no place to do this. the next necessity: Time to sink into the pages of someone else's life without time to acclimate to plot life people language reading is empty it's not enough to steal snatches of another's life even fictional characters' deserve respect given with time paid with attention Cover to cover reading is one of my greatest joys of literature. It serves a multitude of purposes for me. It rekindles my love of reading. It allows me to immerse myself in the book, completely disconnecting from distraction and, on a certain level, reality. Sometimes it's like experiencing a very concentrated lifespan. I read the_red_tent by Anita Diamante in one sitting over the span of a few hours and was almost made ill. The subject was so heavy and reading it so hard and fast affected me in an incredibly profound way. The book seemed to crash over me in a wave and provoked a physical reaction. It was an amazing experience, but it taught me that not everything can be ploughed through in such a way. Lately, I've had trouble scrounging enough time to sit and sink into a book. A book is not worth reading unless you can immerse yourself in it. [I was just recently called for jury duty and the best part of it was the hour and a half lunch break, which I used to read about 135 pages in the two books I'm reading right now]. Part of this stems from the fact that between work and grad school, time is in short supply [also, I work in a library and am slowly learning that if I bring home every book that looks good, I end up with stacks of books and little time to devote to each]. I have had a bit of luck lately, though. The weather here has been divinely beautiful and I've been able to take advantage of it. There are three parks within a few blocks of my house and each one has many excellent spots to sit and read. Reading outside in the sunlight is a treat that I cherish, specially after such a cold and cloudy winter. So if you like, you may well find me on a blanket under a tree, sipping tea and leafing through a trusty tome. [right now I'm working through: the_politics_of_lust by John Ince & messiah by Gore Vidal] 080315 ... redTree perfect...i can wholeheartedly agree with all of your individual reading elements, (definately possess the overstuffed chair and the trees) considering time to be the one i lack, although reading for me has become like breathing...in that sometimes a few lines like a deep breath will feed my soul with the cultural tidbit it needs to thrive. i haven't been able to take on a complete book for a while. i usually read ten minutes at a time. in the bath, or right before bed, (most recent was miranda july's short stories) evenings i've been working on making my own books for the grandchildren, which i hope are floating their spiderwebishly way here someday... that's cool you work at a library...my middle daughter's boyfriend also does. he's written sporatically here... what kind of tea do you like? 080316 ... now_nows roommate you can move your damn chair whereever you like! 080316 ... now_now oh my god you are brilliant, little ren [gaux]. I needed that laugh. times fifty. loves her roommate. 080318 ... now_now I think I can now adequately answer the question of tea having some in front of me [steaming up my glasses] at this very moment [ridiculously strong black tea from my local coffee shop I'm hoping it jolts me as it's been a particularly taxing morning] I generally try not to caffienate, but tea is often the exception to this rule. My favorite, however boring, is decaf earl grey and I usually drink a cup everyday at work. When indulging, or when I needed a little pick me up, I used go for this really lovely citrus green tea that was hand mixed by an herbalist at a little asian market my friend would frequent. Lately, I've grown rather fond of a jasmine green tea blend [found here: http://www.teaforte.com/our-teas/green-and-white-teas/] which is odd, because I usually prefer citrus to any kind of floral addition to my tea. But it's sweet and light, even when brewed strong [I love strong tea more than many things in life]. Tea is such a comfort. It's warm and aromatic and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. I'm sure that's a metaphor for something, but I haven't decided what. Right now it's a warm security blanket that's keeping me calm. I'll drink to that. 080319 ... now_now Hey redTree, What do you think inspires your inquisitive nature? Where do your questions come from? [in both a literal and ohilosophical sense] 080320 ... redTree if you were an animal, then what would you be? why? 080320 ... redTree hey...i didn't see your questions before i asked a new one for you... i guess the questions stem from a desire to know that other people are like me. to find my identity in the answers and further realizing that we're all circling about connected to one shared life force. i hope the questions kind of create themselves through the natural flow of a conversation and in the process i also hope they encourage the respondant to blow off the dust that's collected on certain parts of their soul. 080320 ... now_now It's interesting how important it is to find that there are others with whom we have something in common [and the satisfaction when this moment is realized]. I suppose it stems from the fear of being alone ... What animal am I? For some reason this was a really difficult question. But, if I could be any animal, I suppose I'd want to be a Puffin. Aside from the fact that their name is fun to say [and that they have a great cereal named after them] they are pretty amazing birds. In my mind, they are the hypothetical outcome of a courtship between a toucan and a penguin [mainly due to the swimming ability and the tri-tone beak]. They are small birds of flight that can also swim quite well and live in colder climates. How amazing would it be to be able to soar through the air and explore the depths of the ocean? It's like existing in two separate worlds [remeniscent of jonathan livingston seagull, perhaps?] I've had an affinity for these birds since I was very small and visited them at the Newport Aquarium in Oregon. [I even got a small stuffed puffin, whom I promptly named Muffin... my wit truly knows no bounds. =) ] I think my love of them stems from the memory of visiting the Aquarium with my family [we were in Newport celebrating my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary] rather than an actual affinity with the animal itself. Thanks for inspiring nostalgia, it's much appreciated. 080327 ... now_now Conversely, the animal I'd LIKE to be is different than the animal people think I'm most like. studies show that were I an animal, I'd most likely be a raccoon or panda. I think it's the combination of cute, round, fuzzy animals and either a touchy temperament [only sometimes, and apparently only when teasing my roommate] or intellect [and by intellect, I mean attraction to shiny things]. 080327 ... now_now wow... by panda, I really meant koala. I'm very collected today. 080327 ... jane sub-question: is your affinity for puffins in any way correlated with "puffin books"? 080327 ... now_now as in the children's book imprint of penguin publishing group? Of course! They do great work. Back when I wanted to get my masters in publishing, I had researched internships and job opportunities in New York. There was an opening at penguin in their children's division for an assistant and I was in the process of applying when I got my current job and decided publishing was not for me. I still think about it all the time and I'm not sure if I regret the decision not to apply. I really miss the book business and it would have been really amazing to work in that field (I also would have lived in NY, which was scary and exciting). I might go back into publishing at some point (having my MS in Library Science opens a few dors there, too) and I'd love to be an editor for children's books. Puffins. We have an eternal bond on many levels. Thanks janey_jane! But as far as the group goes, Puffin has some gems among their titles. Lots of Judy Blume, Corduroy, Madeline, aa milne, roald dahl, etc. 080327 ... redTree thanks again for your generous, fascinating response. i love you... you mentioned the existence of living in two separate worlds...(that is, as a puffin) how about as a person...living iinside and outside...in a fantasy world and a real world...is that possible? 080328 ... now_now Long answer to follow... Short answer: We live in an echoing series of worlds within worlds. I currently find myself mired in a self_deceiving world of my own making and will have to transcend personal misgivings before any semblance of clear thought returns. 080402 ... redTree "an echoing series of worlds within worlds..." nice...i'm anticipating your long answer, but as always, take your time and best wishes. 080402 ... now_now This may be a bit all over the board. I'm feeling pleasantly disjointed at the moment and while I find this a more than intriguing topic, I'm afraid my thoughts are a bit scattered [and I've written different bits at different times...] In a way it's impossible not to exist in different worlds. We create our own realities while existing in the world outside our own head. In a more practical, or at least relatable way, most of us live in an echoing series of worlds within worlds. Each of us have microcosm mirrored lives that reflect our larger world [read: global community]. In the plainest sense we have different words accorded by environment. I know that, personally, I adopt a different frame of mind with differing affectations and speech patterns when I am at work than at home. I'm not a different person, but sometimes it feels as if I've landed on another planet when at the library. Everything is muted; colors, sounds, and personalities. Everything from shelving to personal order is dictated by a sort of bureaucratic organizational structure that I have little control over. Where as my home is loud and bright. The people are colorful and we have brilliant conversations and squabbles. They're not two different worlds per se, but my mind shifts and in that respect I might consider them to be such. I suppose that at the very root of this idea is the concept of the mind manifesting its own reality. My mind creates my world. I know that often I can close my eyes and see another life, different chances and different choices made. Who's to say that this alternate existence isn't as viable as the one I'm currently living? In the same vein is the world of dreams. I have lived a thousand lives and existed in as many realities whist slumbering soundly. And often those dreams become so real that they meld into memory and become the faint recollection of an alternate history. But to get at the basic premise of the question as it relates to fantasy and reality... I think, even on the most basic level, everyone exists in both worlds. From the man who imagines himself getting the promotion to the adolescent that creates an entire world out of some escapist need, we all deal in fantasy [and to give it a less charitable name: self deception]. A friend of mine, a therapist, once had a client who could only relate to people through magic [the card game] as he was so immersed in the realm of the fantastic that the only way reality could be conveyed was through playing into his alternate reality. Most of us are not quite at this level, but I think there is a huge need to express this duality, this conflict of existence. In a lot of ways, I think this is where creativity comes from: active minds trying to manifest these fantastical imaginings. Even the creative minds that write or paint or depict realism are imagining alternate lives and spinning them into being. Art comes from a reconciling of fantasy and reality. Existing in both is what makes life beautiful and interesting. 080421 ... now_now And we exchanged opinions of sigur ros earlier... I have been listening to this band that has great sound... like if sigur ros and [um...] postal service had a baby. It's instrumental with similar chord progressions as some sigur ros songs [those mainly found on takk] but it also has a bit of that inditronic//alternatechno thrown in. The band's called "Holy Fuck" and if you so choose, you should give the song "Lovely Allen" a listen [I'm not sure how I feel about the rest of their stuff, as I haven't listened to it as much, but I love that song... it makes me feel happy, like something good is about to start] 080421 ... redTree my wife and i both loved "lovely allen." thanks for the heads up. it made me get all excited for the day. to get out there amongst the living and find the treasure. play the game. thanks also for your essay. i love how you think. you said, "art is a reconciliation of fantasy and reality." in what way were they conflicted? 080422 ... now_now Hahaha... I realize, in retrospect, that while it may be true that these two elements are in conflict, it may also be me merely projecting that they are so. I suppose I'm at that point in my life where I have to reconcile the two personally and professionally, and so I find it particularly applicable. During adolescence and early adulthood, one seems nothing but wild imaginings and limitless potential. Then those days come to an end and the startling expectation that one must now deliver and fulfill that potential can be a bit jarring. Where does all that potential go? Is it lying in wait? Am I in an ever dizzying battle between what could be and what is? Perhaps. That is where the idea of reconciliation finds its roots. In the most meager sense, it's the realization that I, personally, am content to lead a small life, rather than the grand lives I dreamt for myself when younger. It's that sort of tyler-durden-palahniuk-realization that I'm not going to grow up to be a famous rock star [or folk star, were it me] or astronaut, but rather I'm to live a meaningful life of covert significance. Also it's the realization that I don't necessarily want to be those grandiose things anymore. It sounds like a loss of wonder, but really it's a shift in perception. My fantasies of what my life could have been were I more ambitious, more driven, more prone to taking risk are slowly fading and a sort of general contentment is taking their place. I may not find a cure for cancer or be a world famous author, but I make a difference. I contribute. I am famous, though not in that fantastical way I'd imagine. I imagine that when we are young, we are more firmly rooted in the realm of the fantastic, in the raw undiluted possibility of the future. In a more general sense, we are more firmly rooted in [and dependant on] our imagination. As we get older, reality encroaches and seems to slowly consume the space once occupied by what could be. This is not to say that we don't retain any of the beauty and color of the imagined, but we become, for lack of a better word, more realistic. [I realize that I'm making sweeping generalizations with regard to the human condition, and such generalizations are mere observations, colored by my own experience. Please receive them as such]. A great deal of the colonization of fantasy stems from the idea of personal responsibility, in my opinion. One could most certainly hold on to their sense of wonder and child-like attitude forever [this seems an ideal way to go about life] but that does not eliminate the need to take personal responsibility for oneself. It's the balancing of these two modes of being, or a balancing of possibility and reality that creates the conflict. Fortunately, I'm realizing that I can still express my desires and those seemingly unfulfilled imaginings in other ways. Creating, conversing, introspection, destruction, reconstruction, daydreaming, observation. Such fulfillment of purpose may not be as epic as my imagination thought they would be, but they are ways to stay true to those renderings of mind. Even when indulging in these practices, some people again feel at odds with themselves. It's the constant wrestling match with potential all over again. In my case I enjoy singing, writing and making art with different media to express the latent or unfulfilled imaginings of the mind. Part of me is content with what I create while simultaneously a voice from inside is rumbling dissent. Sometimes it seems that the dream that was my life is prowling, trapped inside my finite body [see: things_you_don't_know_about_me ]. I can hear it, this idea, this ideal version of what I could be. It's unhappy, discontented to be living a life so small. Confined to quiet creations. Sometimes it gets restless and I, inadvertantly, breed my own contempt. It is in these fractured moments that the conflict of two worlds is truly that. Conflict; When you are full of doubt that your small life, in which you are truly happy, is enough. I suppose this can be likened to an existential crisis, a question of purpose. Of choices and chances. These moments of internal conflict generally ebb, but in the end it is rather the question of their arisal in first place that plagues the insecure and rattling mind... Maybe we ARE all meant to be rockstars and are collectively failing to live up to our potential. We are meant for something more. We should be the heroes of our own lives. We should take turns being president. We are all the next Andy Warhol. We will each find a cure for the disease. Or perhaps we are already these things in less obvious ways. We are heroes to our children. We are doctors, curing heartache and lifting spirits. We pedal knowledge. We create. We mend. We satiate the hungry soul with mild epiphanies. The realization that you've taught a child to play scales on a violin, giving them the gift of music. The gift to create beautiful sound. That you've created a piece of art that's touched someone's life just as creating it touched your own. That with one phone call answered, you've helped protect a small part of the environment for future generations. That you've encouraged a life-long habit that will help instead of hinder by putting a book in someone's hand. Maybe I had it wrong all along. Maybe the fantasy is the reality. 080422 ... redTree it's that, well said, and many more elements,some of which are discovered new, that mosaically fit side by side to make our fragments become a whole. let's say you are about to cross a stream and the water is rushing hard, but there are rocks to use as stepping stones. if you are careful enough you can cross without slipping into the water. who are you? what is the stream? what are the rocks? 080423 ... someone else you step into the stream but the water has moved on 080423 ... redTree what are you living for? what would you die for? what would you kill for? 080505 ... now_now what are you living for? to be literal, I am living for the mere sensation of taking air into my lungs. There are instances of sheer unadulterated clarity when the mist of deception part and my life has this overwhelming purpose that I am living to fulfill. Then the fog again settles and that purpose is lost to me. I then go back to living for those moments of clarity. grasping at the idea, the sense of perfect purpose. One might think this cyclical longing might breed contempt or disappointment, but the living, true living, happens between those wanting moments. So, in a sense, I am living for company. Creativity. Good food and even better friends. A loving family (who I am quite literally living for, as, on more than one occasion, they have given me reason to continue breathing). A satisfying job. An excellent read. An inspiring write. Mesmerizing dreams. It's all these that make the in between worth living. 080507 ... now_now who are you? I am engigmatic I do not know myself shifting & changing a whirl of frustrated brush strokes scattered overlapping disjointed but step back & the pieces_of_me come_together what is the stream? stream_of_consciousness it is threatening thrilling to dip a toe in is to feel a pull like turpentine on oil it runs & I run threatening thrilling a danger & a dare to be swept away swept up swept clean drowning in self_indulgence to blur to swim what are the rocks? solid thought words numbers maths letters something to hold fast on tight the thoughts of others strong & rooted a concept carved from bedrock mine are sunk_in_sand they shift & move with the current by_no_means steady but terrific & terrible 080619 ... now_now what would you die for? i sometimes wish i were the kind of person that could answer this question sincerely. honestly, there are few things i would die for. i would not die for my country because death seems rather to affect the few and not the whole. if my singular death in situational martyrdom could create a cataclysmic shift in american ideology, that would be a death worth dying, but i don't really find that probable. there are the stock answers, suggesting i would die for family and friends and it's true that i would gladly give my life to protect those i love, but situation rarely calls for the enactment of such a statement. in this case, it may well be the thought that counts, but i know that my family would rather have me live than to die for their sake [which is not to say that, were we in a life threatening situation, i wouldn't try my damndest to save them even at my own expense], but practicality is an issue, in a tragicomical sort of sense. and while in certain cases you, the editorial you, might wish to take the place of one who's dying in order to spare them pain and fear, this isn't really a viable option, at least not beyond the realm of arthurian myth. would that it were and i could save many a life. maybe it's the aging process that makes me more conservative with offering up my mortality. life is tedious and beautiful; it's not something that should be easily given. sometimes i'm stricken by the thought that this is the only life i have [or at least the only one i will be aware of until my toil is through and the memories of past lives i have lived flood back to me in waves]and it grows shorter with each passing year. there is the inevitable panic of fulfillment and brevity that must accompany the turning of the ceaseless wheel of time. eventually we grow up in small ratcheting steps and our perception of reality shifts from presumed invincibility to the fact that no man lives forever. it is this realization that inspires us to cling to life. perhaps i grow selfish with my life, and it would be fitting; i am selfish with joy, time, hope, and other intangibles i wish to keep close. why should my life be any different? in my mind, i would die a thousand heroic deaths for all the tragedies of the world and the love in my heart. but beyond the reaches of the mind, i am contented to live for my own sake, and theirs to. we all fancy we are worth more alive than dead and the only way to prove it is to continue breathing and to improve the quality of life for those whom you would die for. 080628 ... now_now is her own grammar nazi "and theirs too." "for whom you would die." 080628 ... redTree you have been chosen as the world's new super hero, but you can possess only one power that you must select from the following two choices... 1. the ability to fly 2. the ability to be invisible which one do you choose? why? what will you call yourself? 080704 ... now_now The ability to fly. no_question. I think we all have the ability to become invisible, some of us against our will. I always wanted to be able to fly. It's the one consistent wish I've made since early childhood. Though, I'd probably be a horrible super-hero. I'd be too busy flying around the world to all the places I'm afraid I'll never see, rather than saving people. As for a name... maybe the red rocket or something else clever and alliterative. 080708 ... redTree what are the top five events of your life this year? 081209 what's it to you? who go blather from