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phrasemuffin Jun. 16th, 2007 05:05 pm)
phrasemuffin Jun. 16th, 2007 05:05 pm)"...in addition to giving visitors a glimpse of the highly iconic Kimberley cattle industry at work, [many local cattle stations] also capitalise on the presence of Indigenous peoples as 'local colour'..." [bold added]
what a lovely turn of phrase that is.
In other news, while trying to think back to the last movie I saw, I had? another Blink (what is the correct verb for that? "experienced"? "felt"? I used to say I Saw things, so maybe "Saw"? But Seeing Blinks sounds weird). Except, it was more... real? than my average Blink. And the more I focussed, the more real it became.
I was someone else. But it was me. We had our eyes closed. There was a door or something infront of us. Made out of solid, deep, dark green... something. We were enclosed, but there was some amount of space behind us. It was like a box or a tunnel. Very dark. We were angry. Trying to escape/leave/get out/free/past the "door" by focussing on the "door". That's why our eyes were closed.
It was night outside, though we didn't get there. The more we thought of outside, the more it felt like we were in a tree. Or, rather, in a small, one-man box in the side of an enormous tree. Except we weren't really man. We were beast. Or beast-ish. Very Pan/faun-esque body; goat-man-ish, but with longer horns. Much longer horns. About 50cm each, I think.
I could see that it was dark in the space/tree-box/room/tunnel. The more I focussed, the darker it became. In waves. But it wasn't getting darker. I was just more aware of it. Closer to it. Like there was less light around me. Like I was less and less in my room, more and more in the space/tree-box/room. Less me, more us, to become more other-me. And I don't think we were getting angrier, but that I was more aware of other-my anger. Or failed-concentration-induced frustration-becoming-anger.
I've been in a weird mood these past few days, a possible belated-effect of coming out. Much more open, I think, as I was telling Amy. Much free-er, as Andrew may or may not have noticed. I think that may have affected the Blink; I think about my other bodies all the time (though usually actively, on purpose, and Blinks are never on purpose. Though other-body-thought is not a Blink...) so maybe this is just another of those, though more intense and with added context? And I know that probably doesn't make sense to anyone else, but... I think you may just have to be me to get it. It's just one of my things. And, I haven't mentioned this before for fear of sounding like I should be committed, but... for the past month or so now, I've been missing my wings. I can almost feel them. See them. Flex them. Stretch them. And there have been moments when I've felt "something's wrong; where's my tail?". But... what tail? What wings? And when was I ever an enormously long and thick black serpent? We're talking Harry Potter basilisk size here; a mass of coilling, writhing, glistenning black flesh. And why do I think of/feel like these creatures when I walk up the ladder into my room? Why do I remember feeling these things at all? Is it some link to past animal lives, distorted by now-human perception? Is it just me "re-writing" my memory again? I realise it's probably just the "overactively" part of my overactively overactive imagination, but... wouldn't it be pretty damn amazing if I could actually figure out a way to feel these things?
People always tell you that, if you put your mind to it, you can achieve anything. There are times when I feel like this is true, and that it truly can be applied to anything. I remember running home down my street one day and thinking "I can go faster than this. I know I can. There is no limit to how fast I can move!" and I was absolutely cerain that I just needed to get my legs moving. And I did it. I went faster. And I don't think I've moved that fast since. I sometimes feel like I could get "my" wings "back", if only I could get my wings back [/tautology]. Like there's something about my body that's holding my mind back, that's holding my body back [/catch-22]. Like, if I could just disconnect myself from all the physical sensations, I could concentrate totally and uninhibitedly upon one thing, and make it true. Like in the Blink; the less I held on to this-me, the darker it got around us.
OH! Perfect analogy! Robin Williams as Peter Pan in Hook, trying to save his kids when he first arrives in Neverland. He climbs up the mast, crawls out to the hanging net-of-children, and all he has to do is touch their out-stretched fingers and Captain Hook will let them go. All he has to do is let go of the mast. All he has to do is fly.
But he doesn't remember how to.
Peter on the mast is this-me. His kids are other-me. Stretching his arms out to reach them is the Blink; so close to them, but can't quite reach, make contanct. Flying would be crossing the Blink-passage.
I always used to feel like someone was watching me, and do still sometimes, a little bit like The Truman Show meets The Matrix. I always feel like there's something I've forgotten, some past life or higher purpose. And I have always felt that there is another layer to everything (I think that's what makes me such a good devil's advocate), including, and especially, the world. Like you could tear back the veil of the world and reveal the cogs in the universe machine ((C) Terry Pratchet?). Or Valhalla. What ever is back there. Or under here. Or what ever the correct prepositional phrase is.
Of course, now that I've shared this, I'll probably start to stop believing it. That's what happens when I share myself - I lose myself. Like when I first told Ellis I Liked... someone... it immediately lost some of its power. Some of its Essence of Like. There's something about that in Performance Studies, where liminal events become less liminal and special and spine-tingling when you try to explain it to someone. Assuming, of course, that you can acually find the right words, which is pretty much impossible for the fact that said event was liminal.
*sigh*
*looks back over post*
Good god. I think the old self is back.
Hi guys *waves*.
what a lovely turn of phrase that is.
In other news, while trying to think back to the last movie I saw, I had? another Blink (what is the correct verb for that? "experienced"? "felt"? I used to say I Saw things, so maybe "Saw"? But Seeing Blinks sounds weird). Except, it was more... real? than my average Blink. And the more I focussed, the more real it became.
I was someone else. But it was me. We had our eyes closed. There was a door or something infront of us. Made out of solid, deep, dark green... something. We were enclosed, but there was some amount of space behind us. It was like a box or a tunnel. Very dark. We were angry. Trying to escape/leave/get out/free/past the "door" by focussing on the "door". That's why our eyes were closed.
It was night outside, though we didn't get there. The more we thought of outside, the more it felt like we were in a tree. Or, rather, in a small, one-man box in the side of an enormous tree. Except we weren't really man. We were beast. Or beast-ish. Very Pan/faun-esque body; goat-man-ish, but with longer horns. Much longer horns. About 50cm each, I think.
I could see that it was dark in the space/tree-box/room/tunnel. The more I focussed, the darker it became. In waves. But it wasn't getting darker. I was just more aware of it. Closer to it. Like there was less light around me. Like I was less and less in my room, more and more in the space/tree-box/room. Less me, more us, to become more other-me. And I don't think we were getting angrier, but that I was more aware of other-my anger. Or failed-concentration-induced frustration-becoming-anger.
I've been in a weird mood these past few days, a possible belated-effect of coming out. Much more open, I think, as I was telling Amy. Much free-er, as Andrew may or may not have noticed. I think that may have affected the Blink; I think about my other bodies all the time (though usually actively, on purpose, and Blinks are never on purpose. Though other-body-thought is not a Blink...) so maybe this is just another of those, though more intense and with added context? And I know that probably doesn't make sense to anyone else, but... I think you may just have to be me to get it. It's just one of my things. And, I haven't mentioned this before for fear of sounding like I should be committed, but... for the past month or so now, I've been missing my wings. I can almost feel them. See them. Flex them. Stretch them. And there have been moments when I've felt "something's wrong; where's my tail?". But... what tail? What wings? And when was I ever an enormously long and thick black serpent? We're talking Harry Potter basilisk size here; a mass of coilling, writhing, glistenning black flesh. And why do I think of/feel like these creatures when I walk up the ladder into my room? Why do I remember feeling these things at all? Is it some link to past animal lives, distorted by now-human perception? Is it just me "re-writing" my memory again? I realise it's probably just the "overactively" part of my overactively overactive imagination, but... wouldn't it be pretty damn amazing if I could actually figure out a way to feel these things?
People always tell you that, if you put your mind to it, you can achieve anything. There are times when I feel like this is true, and that it truly can be applied to anything. I remember running home down my street one day and thinking "I can go faster than this. I know I can. There is no limit to how fast I can move!" and I was absolutely cerain that I just needed to get my legs moving. And I did it. I went faster. And I don't think I've moved that fast since. I sometimes feel like I could get "my" wings "back", if only I could get my wings back [/tautology]. Like there's something about my body that's holding my mind back, that's holding my body back [/catch-22]. Like, if I could just disconnect myself from all the physical sensations, I could concentrate totally and uninhibitedly upon one thing, and make it true. Like in the Blink; the less I held on to this-me, the darker it got around us.
OH! Perfect analogy! Robin Williams as Peter Pan in Hook, trying to save his kids when he first arrives in Neverland. He climbs up the mast, crawls out to the hanging net-of-children, and all he has to do is touch their out-stretched fingers and Captain Hook will let them go. All he has to do is let go of the mast. All he has to do is fly.
But he doesn't remember how to.
Peter on the mast is this-me. His kids are other-me. Stretching his arms out to reach them is the Blink; so close to them, but can't quite reach, make contanct. Flying would be crossing the Blink-passage.
I always used to feel like someone was watching me, and do still sometimes, a little bit like The Truman Show meets The Matrix. I always feel like there's something I've forgotten, some past life or higher purpose. And I have always felt that there is another layer to everything (I think that's what makes me such a good devil's advocate), including, and especially, the world. Like you could tear back the veil of the world and reveal the cogs in the universe machine ((C) Terry Pratchet?). Or Valhalla. What ever is back there. Or under here. Or what ever the correct prepositional phrase is.
Of course, now that I've shared this, I'll probably start to stop believing it. That's what happens when I share myself - I lose myself. Like when I first told Ellis I Liked... someone... it immediately lost some of its power. Some of its Essence of Like. There's something about that in Performance Studies, where liminal events become less liminal and special and spine-tingling when you try to explain it to someone. Assuming, of course, that you can acually find the right words, which is pretty much impossible for the fact that said event was liminal.
*sigh*
*looks back over post*
Good god. I think the old self is back.
Hi guys *waves*.
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From:
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You remind me of William back when i first met him. In a good way, except that I promise i won't fall in love with you for it.
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And I'm going to choose to take this as a pretty big compliment, given what I've gathered about your relationship with Will. Even if not intended that way, or to that extent. And, don't worry, I'm finding it hard to believe you would fall for me. If knowing that I'm gay doesn't help, there's still the whole OMGAWKWARDBOY factor. And I don't think I'm tall enough :P
I am, however, curious as to why I remind you of Initial Impressions Will. And why this particular post seems to have brought about this revelation.
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OMGAWKWARDBOY is cute ;) except that i've just dumped an OMGAWKWARDBOY, so not so much right now.
but yes, it is a pretty big compliment.
Initial Impressions of Will... are not something you would have gathered about my relationship with will, at all, but they are a pretty big compliment. There's a story in that, but once again i'm too tired. Safe to say, Will and I used to hold long conversations between our characters; he had wings (probably still does, but i'm now more concerned with everyday will). It's just something about the whole I-see-beyond-the-world thing, i think. I idolised him for that when i was a kid. Because i thought i was the only one, and because he seemed better at it than me.
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You found my awkwardness cute? I find that odd. Though am relieved. And the interaction between these reactions is odd, in and of itself. But overall positive, I think :P
Maybe if we start a conversation before midnight, I will eventually get to hear these stories :P Because "conversations between our characters" sounds rather much to me like I thought "I think about my other bodies all the time" would sound to anyone brave enough to attempt this monstrous post; confusement, and with much "huh?". I think that the I-see-beyond-the-world thing, as you have so aptly put it, is a major source of many of my creative juices. Which is to say random thoughts. But, also, I think it is a source of a lot of my paranoia and over-thinking. Two things I'm hoping will fade rather soon.
And Will's wings do intrigue me. Greatly. I am eagerly awaiting this story.
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And though I have heard of Beowulf, I don't know where from, and can only summon a vaguely mythologocial thought-thread. So, the reference is somewhat lost on me.
And, you were actually the one I was most worried about scaring off with this post. Silly me.
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;) That's OK. anlo-saxon nerdage. Grendel, the man-monster, is described as a march (border)- stomper. When we read that, one of my classmembers responded with "totally liminal, man!"
yes, silly you
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sounds like the kind of comments we kept hearing in our Performance tutorials after we looked at Turner and his supposedly universal ritual theory.
There's something Norse about the name. Mythologically Norse, I mean. And for some reason I'm thinking vaguely of Shadow in Fragile Things' post-American Gods novella.
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and yes, you're right on aboutthe man with the big ears who hates noise.
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The monster with the mother? That's not who I was thinking of :P Someone on the ship, I think... :S I dunno.
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did you read Smoke and Mirrors? There's a prose poem in there called "Bay Wolf", and there's the script for Beowulf the movie, plus the Fragile Things story.
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I haven't read it, actually; it's still on my list. I was thinking of getting either Neverwhere or Smoke and Mirrors next.
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Besides, I want to own his whole collection. Or at least most of it. I'll be less inspired to buy it if I've already read it. And I'll be less likely to read it again if I don't own it. Not that I tend to re-read books; I don't like having to wait to get up to the good bits that I already know are coming.
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i still can't decide if Archangel Will and all that goes with him is just a load of self-inflatory bollocks designed to cushion him from unsatisfactory reality. I swallowed it all and more when i was younger- perhaps because i felt somewhere that i had an Other Self, too, and was looking for any tips to what it was.
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Archangel Will? Other Self? Ok, I'm gonna need to hear this story pretty soon :P But maybe Monday arvo once Music Essay of Doom is handed in :( It's gonna be suuuuuch crap and failure.
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The Gaiman Story i will LJ for you, as soon as i get time.
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And by afternoon I did mean anything from 3- to 6-ish, which is what it was
last timethe first time we met up, wasn't it?From:
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Also, on a more shallow note, I love your Kawaii Not icons, that comic rocks my socks.
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