---
i talked to you in the night-time hours;
the millenia of seconds expanded with each sweet word spoken.
every question asked and its corresponding response, an added note to the symphony of our conversation.
the dark winds circled the earth and we talked until time became days, months, years, eons,
until nothing existed but our shared words, and the universe collapsed in on itself in the wake of our quietly spoken whispers.
---
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
" i'm a work in progress "
---
do you ever get the feeling that you are incomplete?
there are parts of yourself, that if you could purchase in a magical store of some sort, you would. a new belly, some canned wit, a box of confidence, and maybe some conversational prowess in a jar with a free sample of the ability to stop snoring when sleeping next to a new lover.
it's the smaller littler things that always seem to stick out and last; small kisses on the back of your hand, the way hair brushes against our face when you hug someone you care about, those small notes people place inside your bag when you're not looking(the good kind, not the crazy i'm-going-to-kill-you-and-eat-you kind).
it's all a matter of creating your own version of success. not to overshoot a dream, or under-develop a wish. it's getting interesting being here; i get to recreate myself every day and reaffirm who i am and what i'm about. most say it's the one thing about their life that they'd like to achieve: a total sense of complete freedom and follow a path of your own design. i'm learning how to navigate this one a little better.
that's the kind of opportunity you cannot buy in a rosewood peach-scented box.
tonight: go get out there and shake your stuff.
---
do you ever get the feeling that you are incomplete?
there are parts of yourself, that if you could purchase in a magical store of some sort, you would. a new belly, some canned wit, a box of confidence, and maybe some conversational prowess in a jar with a free sample of the ability to stop snoring when sleeping next to a new lover.
it's the smaller littler things that always seem to stick out and last; small kisses on the back of your hand, the way hair brushes against our face when you hug someone you care about, those small notes people place inside your bag when you're not looking(the good kind, not the crazy i'm-going-to-kill-you-and-eat-you kind).
it's all a matter of creating your own version of success. not to overshoot a dream, or under-develop a wish. it's getting interesting being here; i get to recreate myself every day and reaffirm who i am and what i'm about. most say it's the one thing about their life that they'd like to achieve: a total sense of complete freedom and follow a path of your own design. i'm learning how to navigate this one a little better.
that's the kind of opportunity you cannot buy in a rosewood peach-scented box.
tonight: go get out there and shake your stuff.
---
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
" example of a letter home to a friend"
---
dear k-dawg,
welding with your dad is something special. remember those moments when the wisps of smoke rises amongst the shower of white-hot sparks. those are the sort of moments that one holds to them till the end.
life is a series of instances that fade into each other with a subtlety that is almost undetectable. in the same manner, poetry, prose or expression of the written form, should really be practiced, as much as it should just be done. naturally as emotional sentient beings, we have this insatiable yearning to share and express, and be shown some form of reciprocity. it's normal to have moments of pure clarity where you are the best in the universe. i wish you the best with your lovely sentences.
i have been secretly building upon my plan to stay here a bit longer than originally planned. this means that life, my life, will be evolving on my own terms for the better part of the next year and a half or so. that's nice. i enjoy trying to figure it all out on my own. while having almost no friends here close that understand me at all...i still find thailand to be a part of me in the best way. it;'s the blood that feeds the meat of my body.
there are more interesting things in life than maintaining the status quo. i fully intend to see what's behind the thin veil. so wish me luck, i'm a traveling.
(sorry i've been non-e-mailatory for the better part of the past two months...i've been out on the road, as it were) but i have as of ten minutes ago updated my photos for "august 2004," and also "malaysia," so please check those out. http://photos.yahoo.com/baystar_one
also, i think it's rad that you are going to the old crow medicine show. i really wanted to make it, but i'm alas...well, here. so njoy it and tell me how it went. below are some websites that just might furfill the itching that you are about to scratch.
http://www.gillianwelch.com
http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/?040920fa_fact3
http://www.crowmedicine.com
miss you lots. tell kim i suck for not emailing her directly, but i lost her email. so...well, i suck i guess is all.say hi to a klingon for me at the star trek experience when you go home...if you have the time.
love and pad thai,
bay
wherever you are, you're there.
email proper: golden_buddha23@hotmail.com
pics: http://photos.yahoo.com/baystar_one
blog: http://baystar.blogspot.com
aim: weederman23
msn: same as email
---
dear k-dawg,
welding with your dad is something special. remember those moments when the wisps of smoke rises amongst the shower of white-hot sparks. those are the sort of moments that one holds to them till the end.
life is a series of instances that fade into each other with a subtlety that is almost undetectable. in the same manner, poetry, prose or expression of the written form, should really be practiced, as much as it should just be done. naturally as emotional sentient beings, we have this insatiable yearning to share and express, and be shown some form of reciprocity. it's normal to have moments of pure clarity where you are the best in the universe. i wish you the best with your lovely sentences.
i have been secretly building upon my plan to stay here a bit longer than originally planned. this means that life, my life, will be evolving on my own terms for the better part of the next year and a half or so. that's nice. i enjoy trying to figure it all out on my own. while having almost no friends here close that understand me at all...i still find thailand to be a part of me in the best way. it;'s the blood that feeds the meat of my body.
there are more interesting things in life than maintaining the status quo. i fully intend to see what's behind the thin veil. so wish me luck, i'm a traveling.
(sorry i've been non-e-mailatory for the better part of the past two months...i've been out on the road, as it were) but i have as of ten minutes ago updated my photos for "august 2004," and also "malaysia," so please check those out. http://photos.yahoo.com/baystar_one
also, i think it's rad that you are going to the old crow medicine show. i really wanted to make it, but i'm alas...well, here. so njoy it and tell me how it went. below are some websites that just might furfill the itching that you are about to scratch.
http://www.gillianwelch.com
http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/?040920fa_fact3
http://www.crowmedicine.com
miss you lots. tell kim i suck for not emailing her directly, but i lost her email. so...well, i suck i guess is all.say hi to a klingon for me at the star trek experience when you go home...if you have the time.
love and pad thai,
bay
wherever you are, you're there.
email proper: golden_buddha23@hotmail.com
pics: http://photos.yahoo.com/baystar_one
blog: http://baystar.blogspot.com
aim: weederman23
msn: same as email
---
Monday, September 27, 2004
" the art of the laugh track "
---
there's something really subversive about a sitcom laughtrack. it's so apparent that it is done in post editing programming, and we all know that there is no live studio, so why the hell is it there again?
it's so blatant that over the years of watching literally dozens and dozens of come-and-gone situational dramedies and the like, we have become null to the annoyance that is the modern laugh track.
can you just imagine the person (or team of people) who sit around with the editors and sound supervisors in their digi-suites thinking up just the perfect moment and length to insert the laugh track. it needs the right amount of audio-virtual crowd size, volume, cadence, and the right balance of male to female voices and pitches.
here in thailand, there are beg\inning to emerge a very odd and ill-placed version of the laugh track. this is no doubt because of the use of the laugh track in american programming(and we all know just how sickeningly america infiltrates the rest of the known modern world with its wares, cultural isms, and other misc. product campaigns-and yet we do nothing about it, because it gives us something funny to look at when we're traveling- a display of the warped inputs that ads in different target markets and languages do).
i say, lets let the rest of the world have some semblance of an original thought, right people? can we do that? no? okay. i know i know, it's just too late. the beast of industry and advertising has already been unleashed for quite some time, so why bother?
i still think its important to separate the differences between real life and a manufactures reality; sometimes these borderlines are not so clear or map-able, but it's nice to be able to recognize them when they appear.
tonight, (force) yourself to watch a horrible new sitcom on fox, then listen for the mind-numbing audio-death of young and older minds alike that is the sweet (non)subtlety that is the laugh-track.
---
there's something really subversive about a sitcom laughtrack. it's so apparent that it is done in post editing programming, and we all know that there is no live studio, so why the hell is it there again?
it's so blatant that over the years of watching literally dozens and dozens of come-and-gone situational dramedies and the like, we have become null to the annoyance that is the modern laugh track.
can you just imagine the person (or team of people) who sit around with the editors and sound supervisors in their digi-suites thinking up just the perfect moment and length to insert the laugh track. it needs the right amount of audio-virtual crowd size, volume, cadence, and the right balance of male to female voices and pitches.
here in thailand, there are beg\inning to emerge a very odd and ill-placed version of the laugh track. this is no doubt because of the use of the laugh track in american programming(and we all know just how sickeningly america infiltrates the rest of the known modern world with its wares, cultural isms, and other misc. product campaigns-and yet we do nothing about it, because it gives us something funny to look at when we're traveling- a display of the warped inputs that ads in different target markets and languages do).
i say, lets let the rest of the world have some semblance of an original thought, right people? can we do that? no? okay. i know i know, it's just too late. the beast of industry and advertising has already been unleashed for quite some time, so why bother?
i still think its important to separate the differences between real life and a manufactures reality; sometimes these borderlines are not so clear or map-able, but it's nice to be able to recognize them when they appear.
tonight, (force) yourself to watch a horrible new sitcom on fox, then listen for the mind-numbing audio-death of young and older minds alike that is the sweet (non)subtlety that is the laugh-track.
---
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
" i'm getting pudgy "
---
take a deep breath, i tell myself...
it's going to be fine.
there is no doubt that i am gaining weight.
this is extra fun, because i am a statuesque five foot six or so inches in height. there is always a hint that you are starting to change shape, when shirts that you once wore comfortably, start to get all
tighter.
since you take your body everywhere you go, it's hard to not become intimate with the landscape of your own physical being. there are parts that stretch, dip, protrude. there are hairy patches, smooth vastenesses, and digits galore.
i like my body. it's just convincing other people that it's swell that part of the adventure of courtship.
i feel that all of these parts are slowly expanding, but i cannot prove it. when you start to look at yourself in the mirror, or look down on yourself, you notice that you are beautiful and complete, if not only in the moment of realization.
there are parts of your body that always have a meaning; the untold private stories of scars, misplaced drunken adventures, or the spot where you once had pointed out by a lover while laying together inside during a rainstorm.
my body is yet again in transition, becoming whatever shape it starts to take, and i suppose i could do more things to keep it "fit," or "tight." but i give a shit about those standards of visual deconstruction.
rather, i would be content if i met someone on the street who was just happy to see that i am perfect in my imperfections; to be anything less that that is inhuman.
another week long block of work on the road is coming up, so take care of yourselves in my absence.
this weeks homework:
attempt to "take the next step" with some one you've always wanted to, but were afraid to ask. or take your current special someone, and cook them dinner. it could be romantic, it could be simple grilled vegetables and brown rice, or it could be teevee dinners. whatever the texture or shape of the menus, just do it with heart, cause that's what's important. if you are single like me, gather a bunch of other single friends in a house, watch "in the mood for love," by wong kar-wai, and dream of better days ahead with shots of single malt whiskey.
---
take a deep breath, i tell myself...
it's going to be fine.
there is no doubt that i am gaining weight.
this is extra fun, because i am a statuesque five foot six or so inches in height. there is always a hint that you are starting to change shape, when shirts that you once wore comfortably, start to get all
tighter.
since you take your body everywhere you go, it's hard to not become intimate with the landscape of your own physical being. there are parts that stretch, dip, protrude. there are hairy patches, smooth vastenesses, and digits galore.
i like my body. it's just convincing other people that it's swell that part of the adventure of courtship.
i feel that all of these parts are slowly expanding, but i cannot prove it. when you start to look at yourself in the mirror, or look down on yourself, you notice that you are beautiful and complete, if not only in the moment of realization.
there are parts of your body that always have a meaning; the untold private stories of scars, misplaced drunken adventures, or the spot where you once had pointed out by a lover while laying together inside during a rainstorm.
my body is yet again in transition, becoming whatever shape it starts to take, and i suppose i could do more things to keep it "fit," or "tight." but i give a shit about those standards of visual deconstruction.
rather, i would be content if i met someone on the street who was just happy to see that i am perfect in my imperfections; to be anything less that that is inhuman.
another week long block of work on the road is coming up, so take care of yourselves in my absence.
this weeks homework:
attempt to "take the next step" with some one you've always wanted to, but were afraid to ask. or take your current special someone, and cook them dinner. it could be romantic, it could be simple grilled vegetables and brown rice, or it could be teevee dinners. whatever the texture or shape of the menus, just do it with heart, cause that's what's important. if you are single like me, gather a bunch of other single friends in a house, watch "in the mood for love," by wong kar-wai, and dream of better days ahead with shots of single malt whiskey.
---
Monday, September 20, 2004
" (ctrl +z) the crap out of your life "
---
a nerds DIY scan-disk for the soul:
editing it all out of your system.
the database of your being has bugs, viruses, and wurms eroding away the poly-alloy compound of your motherboard.
take that last keystroke you have left in your 450 Mhtz switch-trigger and make a stand.
fdisk all of the pain, fear, doubt, and regret, out from in-between the meandering ill sectors.
send it all to your recycle bin, and reboot your life.
---
a nerds DIY scan-disk for the soul:
editing it all out of your system.
the database of your being has bugs, viruses, and wurms eroding away the poly-alloy compound of your motherboard.
take that last keystroke you have left in your 450 Mhtz switch-trigger and make a stand.
fdisk all of the pain, fear, doubt, and regret, out from in-between the meandering ill sectors.
send it all to your recycle bin, and reboot your life.
---
Sunday, September 19, 2004
" so do it already "
---
a note to my lack of confidence:
go.
"do it," you say to yourself.
you're sitting in the emptiness of unfulfilled dreams, floating and aloof. there are so many sounds and textures outside your silent calm vacancy.
the conflict of being passively forwarding or aggressively non-active. both provide little energy or prove to be that effective.
what's the excuse anyways? you see your goals, so go for it.
as your friend said:
Daffie26: so what does your timeline look like for Thailand
weederman23: stay till next may, then see how it goes from there
weederman23: i actually made a plan loosely last night
Daffie26: wowee
weederman23: see how it goes for maybe another year after this one but i dunno
weederman23: sometimes it the feeling of being very lost that makes you want to meet the challenge of staying here
Daffie26: for how long?
weederman23: like another year
weederman23: so two years? i don't know
weederman23: it's how i feel, but i also sometimes feel like coming home
weederman23: i dunno
weederman23: i'm conflicted
Daffie26: i don't think you need to decide now.... do you?
weederman23: not really
weederman23: it's just sort of how i felt for the past few
Daffie26: what do you miss?
weederman23: people
weederman23: cafe's
weederman23: the smell of the ocean
weederman23: idle conversation
weederman23: holiding hands and hugs
weederman23: late night beer runs
weederman23: darts in pubs
weederman23: fast internet
weederman23: sleeping with friends
weederman23: my darkroom
Daffie26: :-)
weederman23: and it could go on
weederman23: but it doesn't need to
don't be sad, or regretful, or depressed, or frustrated. it's going to be okay. you're doing yourself good here, and it'll pay off in a big way, i promise.
don't worry, it's going to be just fine.
bees
---
a note to my lack of confidence:
go.
"do it," you say to yourself.
you're sitting in the emptiness of unfulfilled dreams, floating and aloof. there are so many sounds and textures outside your silent calm vacancy.
the conflict of being passively forwarding or aggressively non-active. both provide little energy or prove to be that effective.
what's the excuse anyways? you see your goals, so go for it.
as your friend said:
Daffie26: so what does your timeline look like for Thailand
weederman23: stay till next may, then see how it goes from there
weederman23: i actually made a plan loosely last night
Daffie26: wowee
weederman23: see how it goes for maybe another year after this one but i dunno
weederman23: sometimes it the feeling of being very lost that makes you want to meet the challenge of staying here
Daffie26: for how long?
weederman23: like another year
weederman23: so two years? i don't know
weederman23: it's how i feel, but i also sometimes feel like coming home
weederman23: i dunno
weederman23: i'm conflicted
Daffie26: i don't think you need to decide now.... do you?
weederman23: not really
weederman23: it's just sort of how i felt for the past few
Daffie26: what do you miss?
weederman23: people
weederman23: cafe's
weederman23: the smell of the ocean
weederman23: idle conversation
weederman23: holiding hands and hugs
weederman23: late night beer runs
weederman23: darts in pubs
weederman23: fast internet
weederman23: sleeping with friends
weederman23: my darkroom
Daffie26: :-)
weederman23: and it could go on
weederman23: but it doesn't need to
don't be sad, or regretful, or depressed, or frustrated. it's going to be okay. you're doing yourself good here, and it'll pay off in a big way, i promise.
don't worry, it's going to be just fine.
bees
---
Saturday, September 18, 2004
" yay last month photo online thingie "
---
lookit ma! the second time!
http://www.kqed.org/topics/local/august04/photo.jsp?gallery=18
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
---
lookit ma! the second time!
http://www.kqed.org/topics/local/august04/photo.jsp?gallery=18
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
---
Friday, September 17, 2004
" notes from the (isan) road "
---
she had the slow distant fade of lost galaxies in her eyes
the day she decided to walk away.
09.04.04
---
she danced in circles,
thinking lovely distant thoughts,
as the night wound down to a
slow lulling vibration.
09.04.04
---
: being honest is okay :
no one said that the search for love and relationships was going to be anything but cryptic at best; before, during, and afterhand. i didn't happen to receive the memogram; i was out photographing street signs at the time.
i mean, who cares if she smiled at you? it's not as if you found pearls in her panties, or a flock of seashell turtle-doves in her breasts.
the truth of it is this: there was a moment, and it was shared.
thus there's something to be said being true and honest with yourself in each moment. this way, you know that in your heart, when the moment arose, came to manifest, and passed, you brought everything to the table.
to live my life in any other manner would be false.
09.07.04
---
: the pull :
i have come out of the dark of night
to reclaim you as one of my own.
at night i dream of strange and wondrous things:
x-ray photographs of people making love, landscapes in mountain ranges where i am the father of two small norwegian children spending my life next to a beautiful clear river, and how when you are come into my broad arms, i'll hold you close to me in an intimate embrace like that of the gravitational pull of a planet to one of its orbital satellites.
09.09.04
---
: portside:
she calls to me
out where i stand in pale groves
without her voice touching.
the silence of her cries
echo in a painful melody
near to the widespread body of the ocean.
to forever be at the ready
and not be able to contain her silky pleas
within my harbored breast;
the bell clangs somewhere far-off
and the anchors brush against
the solitary moors.
09.10.04
---
: searching :
it is in search of you
that i go walking through
this time that i have here.
you are the forever-she,
the her, the girl standing
there, then,
when it was then
and we were us in a moment
of clarity, as if
two stones beneath a clear river;
polished side-by-side
unnoticed and uninterrupted,
holding silent conversations
unaware of the outside world,
surrounding our collective blisses.
09.10.04
---
she had the slow distant fade of lost galaxies in her eyes
the day she decided to walk away.
09.04.04
---
she danced in circles,
thinking lovely distant thoughts,
as the night wound down to a
slow lulling vibration.
09.04.04
---
: being honest is okay :
no one said that the search for love and relationships was going to be anything but cryptic at best; before, during, and afterhand. i didn't happen to receive the memogram; i was out photographing street signs at the time.
i mean, who cares if she smiled at you? it's not as if you found pearls in her panties, or a flock of seashell turtle-doves in her breasts.
the truth of it is this: there was a moment, and it was shared.
thus there's something to be said being true and honest with yourself in each moment. this way, you know that in your heart, when the moment arose, came to manifest, and passed, you brought everything to the table.
to live my life in any other manner would be false.
09.07.04
---
: the pull :
i have come out of the dark of night
to reclaim you as one of my own.
at night i dream of strange and wondrous things:
x-ray photographs of people making love, landscapes in mountain ranges where i am the father of two small norwegian children spending my life next to a beautiful clear river, and how when you are come into my broad arms, i'll hold you close to me in an intimate embrace like that of the gravitational pull of a planet to one of its orbital satellites.
09.09.04
---
: portside:
she calls to me
out where i stand in pale groves
without her voice touching.
the silence of her cries
echo in a painful melody
near to the widespread body of the ocean.
to forever be at the ready
and not be able to contain her silky pleas
within my harbored breast;
the bell clangs somewhere far-off
and the anchors brush against
the solitary moors.
09.10.04
---
: searching :
it is in search of you
that i go walking through
this time that i have here.
you are the forever-she,
the her, the girl standing
there, then,
when it was then
and we were us in a moment
of clarity, as if
two stones beneath a clear river;
polished side-by-side
unnoticed and uninterrupted,
holding silent conversations
unaware of the outside world,
surrounding our collective blisses.
09.10.04
---
Sunday, September 12, 2004
" in khon kaen "
---
i find myself in the Isan part, and right when i find time to get online, i am getting kicked offline...
seng jung leuy...
i'll catch you later i suppose.
peas...
---
i find myself in the Isan part, and right when i find time to get online, i am getting kicked offline...
seng jung leuy...
i'll catch you later i suppose.
peas...
---
Friday, September 03, 2004
" the night that never happened - a story "
---
when i first saw her, she was sitting in one of those beautifully plain, orchid-colored, faux-velvet den-chairs; her long legs folded over one another like two freshly baked loaves of bread.
i passed her on my way to the safe counter, with it's delectably ornate desserts displayed with a special care to color and lighting. she smelled the way the earth smells after the passing of a torrid monsoon; an overswept lush clean that resembles the way people would smell if they washed their bodies raw with the galaxy.
she was reading a copy of "not only black and white" magazine, carefully taking in the photographic panels before casually flipping through the leafy tome. i ordered a tall hazelnut steamer because it was 2am, and it seemed like the right thing to do.
i was just about to nestle into the thickness of my new david sedaris novel when i heard a lovingly raspy voice say, "hey...i don't think you remember me, but aren't you that guy that sold buttons at that thing?" i looked up and my body turned inside out.
"yes, yes i am," i replied like a complete doof. she sat down next to me on the oblong couch and told me that her name was martina. she whispered in my captivating ears that she wanted to buy some more buttons, but could never find me after the last comic con ended. i fainted on the inside and died a tiny death.
i told her that i had a machine at my house that could make any button she wanted.
we stole away into the night with our reading paraphanellia tucked under our collective arms. we went up into my cluttered studio and made a makeshift bedding on the floor near the heater.
the hours languidly flowed by with half-spoken sentences and hot toddies. we told each other secrets using only our eyes, and passed the night away exploring the landscape of each others' bodies. she said to me that she always knew that we would find each other, and that when the moment arose, she couldn't help herself but to take the risk of the moment. i told her, "some people wait their whole lives to be found."
in the morning we made blueberry pancakes in our underwear and took some self-portraits with my raggedy holga. she sang me a song on a broken ukelele and i fell in love with her by the silent bowl of my porcelain tub. we kissed a new-lover's kiss good-bye and she descended lengths of the staircase as she walked out of the door; her smile mirroring mine in perfect parallel reflections, which glowed inside long after her departure.
---
when i first saw her, she was sitting in one of those beautifully plain, orchid-colored, faux-velvet den-chairs; her long legs folded over one another like two freshly baked loaves of bread.
i passed her on my way to the safe counter, with it's delectably ornate desserts displayed with a special care to color and lighting. she smelled the way the earth smells after the passing of a torrid monsoon; an overswept lush clean that resembles the way people would smell if they washed their bodies raw with the galaxy.
she was reading a copy of "not only black and white" magazine, carefully taking in the photographic panels before casually flipping through the leafy tome. i ordered a tall hazelnut steamer because it was 2am, and it seemed like the right thing to do.
i was just about to nestle into the thickness of my new david sedaris novel when i heard a lovingly raspy voice say, "hey...i don't think you remember me, but aren't you that guy that sold buttons at that thing?" i looked up and my body turned inside out.
"yes, yes i am," i replied like a complete doof. she sat down next to me on the oblong couch and told me that her name was martina. she whispered in my captivating ears that she wanted to buy some more buttons, but could never find me after the last comic con ended. i fainted on the inside and died a tiny death.
i told her that i had a machine at my house that could make any button she wanted.
we stole away into the night with our reading paraphanellia tucked under our collective arms. we went up into my cluttered studio and made a makeshift bedding on the floor near the heater.
the hours languidly flowed by with half-spoken sentences and hot toddies. we told each other secrets using only our eyes, and passed the night away exploring the landscape of each others' bodies. she said to me that she always knew that we would find each other, and that when the moment arose, she couldn't help herself but to take the risk of the moment. i told her, "some people wait their whole lives to be found."
in the morning we made blueberry pancakes in our underwear and took some self-portraits with my raggedy holga. she sang me a song on a broken ukelele and i fell in love with her by the silent bowl of my porcelain tub. we kissed a new-lover's kiss good-bye and she descended lengths of the staircase as she walked out of the door; her smile mirroring mine in perfect parallel reflections, which glowed inside long after her departure.
---
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
" monosyllabicy gets you far "
---
mmm. beh. neh. and guh.
okay, now that that's out of my system:
there is an interesting sense of indescribable power one feels, when you start to travel. to put it much better, a quote by the brother of paulo coelho:
"when you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth."
it's all so very simple.
life is not just merely the act of living, it's the response to everything that is surrounding you. it's the connective tissue between the seams of information and material. it's love and food, and breathing, and swimming in the ocean, and jumping up and down, and laughing out loud without a sense of embarassment.
i've just been out in the world, the raw world, the world of my ancestors and the world of my modern kin. it seeps into me like an organic poreous phantasm. i saw beautiful landscapes passing by with the wind flustering through my crappity haircut, i saw the encroaching beauty of the muslim faith becoming the norm as we neared towards the deeper southern regions, i saw a beautiful sunset glowing ever-red through a tropical thunderstorm, i smelled the enticing fragrance of orchids and jasmine meandering upon the winds, i saw children smiling in houses that most americans would deem unfit for habitation, i saw myself in the faces of the people and i felt like i had come nearer to knowing myself intimately; like a human being realizing sentience.
there is no real language of the world, to describe the satisfaction of finding out about yourself through experiences such as these. there is nothing like really starting to do some serious self-reflection on yourself, and sinking your hands, fingertips and all, into the meat that is your worldly soul.
i am about to embark upon yet another long journey of sorts this month, and i'll be gone with my production team for three weeks or so. it's funny when a metrosexual-nerd-fanboy like me has to live without the net for more than a few hours, but it's nice to get the opportunity to trade time with electronic interfaces and see what the real world has to offer.
this month, take a shower with someone and don't forget to soap up your navel, cause not a lot of people clean that tummy-hole-thing.
---
mmm. beh. neh. and guh.
okay, now that that's out of my system:
there is an interesting sense of indescribable power one feels, when you start to travel. to put it much better, a quote by the brother of paulo coelho:
"when you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth."
it's all so very simple.
life is not just merely the act of living, it's the response to everything that is surrounding you. it's the connective tissue between the seams of information and material. it's love and food, and breathing, and swimming in the ocean, and jumping up and down, and laughing out loud without a sense of embarassment.
i've just been out in the world, the raw world, the world of my ancestors and the world of my modern kin. it seeps into me like an organic poreous phantasm. i saw beautiful landscapes passing by with the wind flustering through my crappity haircut, i saw the encroaching beauty of the muslim faith becoming the norm as we neared towards the deeper southern regions, i saw a beautiful sunset glowing ever-red through a tropical thunderstorm, i smelled the enticing fragrance of orchids and jasmine meandering upon the winds, i saw children smiling in houses that most americans would deem unfit for habitation, i saw myself in the faces of the people and i felt like i had come nearer to knowing myself intimately; like a human being realizing sentience.
there is no real language of the world, to describe the satisfaction of finding out about yourself through experiences such as these. there is nothing like really starting to do some serious self-reflection on yourself, and sinking your hands, fingertips and all, into the meat that is your worldly soul.
i am about to embark upon yet another long journey of sorts this month, and i'll be gone with my production team for three weeks or so. it's funny when a metrosexual-nerd-fanboy like me has to live without the net for more than a few hours, but it's nice to get the opportunity to trade time with electronic interfaces and see what the real world has to offer.
this month, take a shower with someone and don't forget to soap up your navel, cause not a lot of people clean that tummy-hole-thing.
---
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