"You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you're some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you'll be afraid to look away, you'll be afraid to sleep.
Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
And then the nightmares will begin.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
...when i opened the [Pan]door[a's box] to come back here to check on my blog and "to try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow," well ... err, uhm, i realized it had been a helluva lot longer than September since i'd been here.
reading back through the last six or seven of my entries was, in a word D-I-F-F-I-C-U-L-T! i was surprised by the intense emotional and physical reactions i had reading my own words (the bitter ironies), and a few of the noises i made trying to keep the tears back, were in a word … well, actually i can’t find words for the noises right now, so i’m stumped on that one, just like i’m stumped lately as to why I feel this intense need to FIGHT SO HARD to keep tears at bay, because in doing so tonight, yeah, pretty sure i broke my clavicle, fractured my liver, and it's no living wonder why i can’t breathe half the time because i actually don’t breathe half the time when i make these noises i can’t find words for!!! on top of this mess, i double crossed my legs and that was 3-1/2 hours ago (still not sure how uncrossing them is going to go), and yeah chewed threw my lower lip.
but i digress…
as i said, i reopened the door, and while there was some freak-ass creaking, and my heart did some shredding and shrieking, i’m actually excited to play this role on TV again--the one where i have a blog, but in real life i’m a walking f'd up nightmare.
i have an art/fart/etsy blog as well where once upon a wrinkle in my old time's sake, i had intended to move my artwork and focus more on my etsy shop, so i’ll be building a door or window to that blog soonly. this will include a large (altered/collage/mixed media) project featuring, Ms. Ladykins below, ongoing, and then updates on additions to my etsy shop as well as whatever other arty fart bombs i drop.
Maybe the only thing each of us can see is our own shadow.
Carl Jung called this his shadow work. He said we never see others. Instead we see only aspects of ourselves that fall over them. Shadows. Projections. Our associations.
The same way old painters would sit in a tiny dark room and trace the image of what stood outside a tiny window, in the bright sunlight.
The camera obscura.
Not the same image, but everything reversed or upside down. -Chuck Palahniuk
There now, that wasn't so hard now, was it?!?!?! --this restarting, jump-starting, let's get this blog shock therapy party and my heart started!
"I give you this to take with you: Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting.” ―Judith Minty, Letters to My Daughters