Oftentimes, I cannot sleep at night, and so stay up, and am not productive. But I love these these silent moments that balance the amorphous noise that chatters on in our heads. You don't have anyone to talk to, so without that pressure, thoughts can go skinny dipping, take different forms, become monsters, become creatures, become ghosts, blobs, whispers. And they start to smell like things you can't pinpoint but that you can recognize and feel so connected to. Nighttime seems to awaken a million of these thought-scents - exploding with energy. You can't really describe a scent completely, (hence it is the perfect medium to transport memories); you can't help but to feel your thoughts at night. Fuck yeah!
Monday, February 3, 2014
I don't do this sort of thing but he always seemed to remind us of who we really were. What will the world do without someone so brutally honest? (Lester Bangs' "You'll meet them all again on the long journey to the middle" (Almost Famous)) How many raw tears fell alongside yours? Anyhow, rest in peace, Philip Seymour Hoffman.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
There are so many "glads" but the best is transient and never witnessed by anyone other than yourself. It is the warm glad, that makes you smile, look off to the distance, never needing words (could there really be any words?). I wonder how many people in the world, albeit never happy out loud, never smiling and laughing, have a million of these little secret glad moments. Technically, these moments compiled would make them mysteriously happy people. Maybe that is the vibe I get from certain people who look very grumpy but have a certain underlying humor about their character. Anyhow, what are all these words out there? And what do they mean? And is there the PERFECT word? If there is, please leave me a note. I shall be tickled pink.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Today, I walked into a pole. (This seems to happen often when I am speaking to good friends.) Later, when the same friend and I were munching on cheesy goldfish and yogurt at 12am in the Family Mart, (꾸이꾸이 and 맥주 for her for 추석) an odd young man came in, plopped right next to me, and ate his hamburger and orange juice box--five minutes of chattering to self and happy chewing...
Later, thinking away the seconds, walking and waiting for cabs, crickets and the parking lot and more remembering----remembering that I can't stop believing (but sometimes one needs art so it can pour this unspoken energy out to you and you can blurt out your "whatever-it-is-inside-you-that-is-just-an-emotional-higgledypiggledy" and everything meets in the middle, and it is in that space you feel there is the answer and there are no limits).
And so, tonight, I'm looking at Felix Gonzales-Torres again. (I feel like I must have posted this before) His art resonates so pure. I couldn't need his artwork more than I do right now. Two people, from the outside, look generic---but there is always more to two special people. Anyhow, I don't know what I am saying...but thinking about FGTorres...(here comes the sap, oh boy)
Maybe, the best love is the kind that remembers the wonderful things about people, even when they go back to being generic clocks out there somewhere...because for a special time, they ticked with you and no one can take that away from a memory. (I can only believe)