Sunday, April 10, 2005

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock

[Listening to: Hear You Me - Jimmy Eat World - Jimmy Eat World (4:45)]

Hmmm. After midnight. I should be in bed. I guess. But I'm not, and so perchance to blog. Or something.

Today was...yes. A quietly momentous day. If that makes sense. I have been admitting something of late -- you who know what I mean know what I mean. Today was the day I fully admitted it, and took the step that needed taking. I am hopeful and terrified. But a step. This has been done. Things are in motion. I am in motion.

The house from last night haunts me still. The image stuck in my head like a bur. The Christmas lights, I think, are what really got me. The scene was just so Kafkaesque, really, with those twisted metal shapes sticking up from out of the shadows and into the unreal glow of those lights. So out of place, the whole of it. The sculptures, the lights. Unnerving. They actually entered my dreams last night. Vague, unholy hints of metallic Boschian figures. *shudder*

The freaky factor was strangely delicious last night. After the dreams, decidedly less so. My mind is open prey right now to such images, I'm afraid. My imagination is a very active thing, and right now very in tune with things that go bump in the night. Now is the time I would see ghosts, and worse things. My whole life has gone liminal. I've cast off from a shore and don't know where the other side is, or if there is even another side. And while I will have guidance now, it can only point me in a direction. The steps that have to be taken must still be taken by me.

Those sculptures -- it is as if they are grotesque parodies of life, sufficiently real, in their freakish setting, to not be simple objects, but also not be alive, either. Undead metallic beings, rising up from the shadows of the Earth in search of existence. That so can't be good.

See what I mean? You just have to hear these bits of my imagination. I have to live with it and the full digital video with Dolby Surround Sound effect of it. I am saturated in it. I think, really, this has always been part of my problem. When someone said, for example, horrible things to me, things that cut and cut and ripped and tore, that's how I felt it. Right there. Words transmuted into physicality. Remote abuse by way of an imagination out of control.

I wonder, sometimes, if in my worst moments, I wasn't really just trying to make the scars visible to other people.


At 11:10 am, Blogger rie said...

a celebration dance for taking action when taking action was most needed. *rie dancing moment*

much better than making the wounds physically apparent to the rest of us is talking about them. *nods* which is what you're learning to do. so all very good, methinks. progress. as bill sez, baby steps -- heh.

glad you wree here last night -- it was good to see your face.

At 12:07 pm, Blogger abstract gecko said...

what she said! good to see ya, like the look, let that imagination go wild, but not control you!!


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