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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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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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