Lelle's Xanga

Sunday, November 08, 2009

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 16:29:28 GMT

it's been a yellow wallpaper kind of year

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 07:07:58 GMT

(one flew over the cuckoo's nest)
(imply what you will)

mental illness

we lose things then, like space and time and self. And interspatial symmetry.

up into the silence the green... (41)
by e e. cummings

up into the silence the green
silence with a white earth in it

you will(kiss me)go

out into the morning the young
morning with a warm world in it

(kiss me)you will go

on into the sunlight the fine
sunlight with a firm day in it

you will go(kiss me

down into your memory and
a memory and memory

i)kiss me,(will go)

moodboard formats

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:40:27 GMT

(excerpts from articles in academic philosophy journal http://www.janushead.org/index.cfm, random)

"Since conversation sometimes depends on or includes truth claims, the authentic conversation will also be built on the possibility that “I am wrong.” "

''Your practical programming, your drawing up of mental blueprints and engineering your undertakings, your own character management work to implant and extend a zone of lucid intelligibility in your life and environ- ment. But your fantasy space is dominated by a sense of chance and luck. The improbable chance that you were conceived and born, the chance that you—you—are alive, the unforeseeable accidents that befall you each day, the auspicious and baleful omens, the good and bad luck that really are what gave heat and light to you, the you that says “I.”''

In 1957, Leon Festinger introduced the theory of cognitive dissonance to psychology. Cognitive dissonance is an unpleasant state of arousal caused by conflict between thoughts and/or beliefs and behavior.

POSTSCRIPTS

I practiced hunger

the fine print of beginnings,

encounters, almost fateful

he span of years, a wave,

buoys me to this moment

when I discover

nothing was too much.

volition integument- covering, coating, a natural cover like skin, shell rind

ACHING ARCHING

ENNUI
SURFEIT- excess, overflow

superabundance

Something that hinders, engulfs, or overwhelms: a morass of details. low lying

"The word you have fixed in yourself is fixed in your sensibility, your nervous circuitry, your circadian rhythms, your momentum, and your tempo. It vanishes from the conscious mind which can fill itself with new words and scenarios. You no longer have to recall, in the midst of morning concerns that require your attention, that word “dancer” uttered in yourself; you instinctually head for the dance studio and feel restless and tied down if you are prevented from going.

It is this word that makes you thoughtful. The rows of trees and the daily movement of clouds overhead, the birds that chatter in your back yard, the landmarks and the paths you take every day, the tasks that are laid out for you every day, the patterns of conversation with acquaintances, the concepts that exist to classify these things and the connections between them—these lull the mind which glows feebly in their continuities and recurrences; they do not make it thoughtful. Instead, thought results from language, thought arises out of the word you put to yourself—a word of honor. This word interrupts the continuities of nature and silences the babble of others in yourself. It is the power you feel in yourself when you fix yourself with a word, stand and advance in that word, the feeling that you are making your own nature determinable, steadfast, trustworthy, that makes you look for regularities, necessities, calculable forms in the flux of external nature. Once you have said “I will be a dancer,” you begin to really determine what the things about you are, you begin to understand anatomy, the effects of exercise, of diet, the effects of great teachers and grand models, the workings of a whole cross-section of urban society. It is the man or woman of his or her word who is thoughtful. "

Sometimes a sentence can be understood only if it is read at the right tempo. (Wittgenstein, 1980, p.57)

can't MAKE this shit up.

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 13:04:48 GMT

I found myself at a gay party (as in gay women and men mostly) in an apartment party somewhere in paris this past Friday night. unexpectedly, a party that included a tattoo artist finishing a piece, at least 15 different nationalities amongst the 20-25 who were there, everyone from tattoed neck down men to uptight hot turkish lesbians who dress like kim kardashian. Well that wasn't unexpected, as my friend sophias a spright on the lesbian circle here, but the surprise?

It was essentially one big touching//kissin and all around stage for exhibitionism....2 girls no 3, 6....bra off 2...belt?? belt...on the bed, is that a guy on her or a girl? his hand is down her pants...the later the night got, the hotter it got. I ended up giving some lesbians a nice 5 minutes of dominatrix style kisses (little french lesbians, like kittens) after being literally thrown onto what was apparently the bed for all the action by a gay brazilian man who for some reason was INTENT on it (I say for some reason because he is Gay gay gay gayyyyy for men, gay as a technicolor brazilian rainbow). Other things happened in a 2 hour long domino trail. I drank 13 glasses of whiskey, straight. Seduction everywhere, everyone's coy everyone's in control everyone's on everyone else.

Paris, you are a city of many facets. I didn't give you nearly enough credit. Quite a rich network of side alleys, back alleys, lower lower higher higher and

well, yeah. accidental sex party.

definitely getting up there on the transcendence scale

(it was like an opium den exactly, lounging and being or dancing but mostly just touching, ceaseless caressing)

I never thought that one could accidentally attend a sex party, but well, here we are.

where the wild things are

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 10:57:23 GMT

Friday, October 30, 2009

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 08:36:38 GMT

Main Entry: creation
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: all living things
Synonyms: cosmos, life, living world, macrocosm, macrocosmos, megacosm, nature, totality, universe, world
Antonyms: death

Main Entry: deep space
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: outer space
Synonyms: celestial spaces, cosmic space, cosmos, intercosmic space, intergalactic space, interplanetary space, interstellar space, metagalactic space, ocean of emptiness, outer space, region beyond Earth's solar system, the heavens, the universe, the void, the void above

(http://www.shrimptoncouture.com)

70s Yves St Laurent minidress

60s chiffon minidress

beaded purse 40s

60s chiffon minidress

sonia rykiel 60s silk minidress

did i just write a modern poem? perhaps, possibly, okay then

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 10:06:42 GMT

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Thursday, October 29, 2009

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 08:36:47 GMT

I got over my fear of writing a parody of literature versus actual literature and wrote a short story yesterday. The first, ever, eternally a one track slut for poetry. And now today I find that it took all my words away in a fantastic purge of the excess verbgrammerwords which normally float around my brain. Funny, always attributed wordlessness with block, with the negative. I suppose I never considered wordlessness as absolution.

- - -

|| Quand une idée se saisit trop de moi au milieu de la rue, je tombe. ||

When an idea grabs me in the middle of the street, I fall.
----
Marie-Henri Beyle,

- - -

|| Le langage est le seuil du silence que je ne puis franchir. Il est l'épreuve de l'infini. ||

Language is the threshold of silence that I cannot step across. It is the test of infinity.
----
Brice Parain

- - -

|| Imaginer c'est choisir. ||

To imagine is to choose.
__
Jean GIONO, Noé (Gallimard)

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 21:41:28 GMT

i feel like I am suddenly free of this, whatever it is, crazy pill. everything you say sounds fucking insane. do you listen to yourself? I can't stand to look at you, see you, hear you. I know that you will never change from the egotistical son of a fucking bitch you are. you always, ALWAYS default to numero uno, philippe. I am sure while I waited for you for three and half hours at the train station when yo'd already arrived that you know, oops, you got lost in your fucking emails and haha didn't think to ask jen when i got there. maybe call the fucking gare, one simple phone call, and poof! INFOR-FUCKING-MATION.

You'll always be like this, I can't imagine what facade I tried to shove over you and over everything. You seem incapable of loving someone beyond the self affected relationship of YOU to THEM- whatever is too uncomfortable or hard, haha, fuck you all philippe's gonna get his!

you have just left me in the dark, well just left me (physically speaking-- and otherwise). Yet again! What a stupid little slut I am. You're right, we're all just a bunch of fucking girls PROSTITUTING ourselves to men in order to get by. Does that make you feel any better? I bring that up namely because:

You told me 9. YOU TOLD ME 9.

and numero deux: its the last time i'm going to jen in what will probably be years if shes off to asia.

THANK YOU, PHILIPPE.

I don't even give that much of a shit, I'm not particularly damaged in any way. (sort of like I was expecting it, who would have guessed) Not feeling like crying, fighting, talking, arguing, any fucking thinging with you. I don't want to remember you exist for a while because I don't think I can possibly handle anything about you right now. I feel sick.

You will never have my back.

You will never love anyone unconditionally.

You are a primier example of a darwinian specimen perfect for the survival of the fittest, and well ha, looky, thats mister philippe galowich himself. Add iOUT the complexity and you've got a fucking monkey who, when all is said and done, will always choose to wank off and eat fleas, thats the EXTENT of your universe when it comes down to it and I mean that, as base as it sounds its so true it fits you like a well loved pair of gloves.

What was I expecting?

Thats the question I guess.

WHAT was I expecting?

Well, the long and short of it was; something.

Thank you for showing your void yet again, it will really help me get my ass in gear.

I am also mostly mad at myself because I let myself believe that you honestly and truly acted on the premise that regardless of the circumstances you'd have my back. Cut the sex shit out, just a fucking best friend.

But it's nothing to the fucker to leave me at the gare and justify it by blaming me for not having a cell phone.

HULLO?

YES. YES. WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT VARIABLE IN THE PREMISE. AND?

fucking shut up. just shut. it. i cant hear one more of your insane shrill accusations which only sound frantic to me now beyond everything else, just fucking scared to be found out that

you are out only for yourself. when it comes down to it, you genuinely and truly couldn't care the less unless you are violating some overhanging social norm. You weasel and you maneuver and I'm left with my mouth open trying to oh, HAHA

COMMUNICATE!

yeah that. actually speak to the PROBLEM, you know, because for any sane person when your partner responds to any sort of thing not pleasant and fluffy with blind cutting and fucking hurtful accusations, you think: heh, whats going on? let me think about this..."|

and thats where mr. jekyll gets you kiddies, haha!

you let in that seed of doubt trusting the other person to function on that same partner premise but in reality you're just throwing me poison to distract from the wound.

i dont know. maybe ill regret this tomorrow. no, actually, because writing is my way of getting through shit and you know what? GET. OVER. IT.

get the fuck get the FUCK over yourself

Iannis Xenakis

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 01:39:59 GMT

seeing the national french symphony playing works by xenakis might have been the climax of my musical existence.
it was exquisite. it made the seasoned professionals sweat, all eyes so intent as to seem to be igniting the sheet music in front of them, absolute concentration for the music below, which is so completely beyond me as to belong in its own universe.

Transcendant.

I wish my mind could wrap itself around the compositions below, the pure technical nature of notes for a symphony come to life, a conceptual wilderness of strange and unusual creatures, capable of being symbols for something as organic and animate as sound, not just sound, but music.

I get strangely heated when I look at the compositions of xenakis-- the absolute perfection of planes, geometry, mathematics-- beautiful rich, so rich, those numbers and the way xenakis's mind organizes his music. That is what gets me, the way his mind was so alive! So intensely and violently alive, that he could envision translating his concepts into such a framework never before seen, considered, new and naked and raw and so pure in its inception that it hurts to look at it. This was the way this man's mind worked. Frick.

Thinking in 6-D, 100-D, dimensions and dimensions, infinities. Numbers not named, found, beyond human comprehension, hell, existence. Like his mind was beyond human and something shining from the ether.

that I almost believe myself thinking that somewhere in there must be the key to life, the universe, any and all meaning of everything everything everything!

An x and y axis to heaven.

Cells on fire from all of this (can everyone feel so passionately as me? it sort of hurts and interferes with the practicalities of living but I wouldn't trade it for the world).

Cells on fire! LOVELY!