August 3rd, 2014
|09:03 am - random thoughts & outliers|
Doing GISHWHES again this year, and the big event meet-up is here in Seattle. I'm nervous but looking forward to participating.
I was thinking last night while ushering at the Uptown that we are social primates, watching the crowd behavior. IDGHP can miss the sign on the door that says "push here" - because that door's hinges are not on the 'expected' side, so everyone always tries pushing on the side with the hinges. Although I have to admit that I do it too, and I not only read the sign, but I read it over and over while standing there watching people use (or fail to use) the door. So when I say I don't get how people fail to heed the sign, I'm including myself in "people" at least.
I don't get how people do a lot of stuff. Most of it is probably a perspective thing like the door. IDGHP keep their hair out of their faces, or from falling out of the hair clips - but that's probably more a problem with the fineness of my hair than anything. IDGHP drink coffee that is so hot it burns; half of why I put cream in my coffee is to cool it to a temperature where I don't feel like I'm scalding my mouth. IDGHP eat as much siracha as they do, or those hot peppers that make you break into an instant sweat. Perhaps I simply have delicate mucous membranes. And IDGHP do things like eat hot peppers and review video games - a la Hot Pepper Gaming either.
Alright, enough boggling. Time to go put a bowl of fruit on a hat. IDGHP lived before glue guns.
June 4th, 2014
|07:52 pm - May I what?|
I have no idea where May went. That's okay, I'm sure it's around here somewhere, will probably turn up again in a year or so.
Sadly that's about all I've got for public consumption. I'm even more self-contained than usual at the moment, in some ways. Although I am auditioning new therapists, as my current one is leaving town. I am sanguine, and on schedule.
All the rest of my thinky thoughts are better left free-range for the moment.
April 29th, 2014
|08:24 am - (easily amused, they call me)|
The Horse In Motion as shown by instantaneous photography, with a study on animal mechanics founded on anatomy and the revelations of the camera, in which is demonstrated the theory of quadrupedal locomotion, that book with the famous Edward Muybridge photographs? The name of the author of the text is J.D.B. Stillman.
STILLMAN. You can't make this stuff up.
April 26th, 2014
|10:45 am - waiting for the drop|
I'm trying to ditch a headache and waiting for various meds to kick in, and I might as well post while I'm doing it, eh? Share the little thoughts that chase around my head like leaves in the autumn wind flicker down side streets and then fetch up short. Gusty thoughts. Snippets of sundry. Random words and phrases, the occasional seed of a poem even, if I'm lucky. If there are leaves there must be trees, at least. Some deeper structure holding this all up? On the days breathing is too much work, all I can do is hope.
April 22nd, 2014
|08:13 am - because it's there|
To borrow a phrase from BBC Sherlock: Not Dead. And yeah, still dreaming, if you want to go down that path. Still figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B and points beyond. Am half-way caught up on my taxes. Am way behind on my poetry-writing goals.
April tends to loom large in my depression, and I've been thinking about the underlying reasons (with the aid of my pshrink). I've had a couple of useful insights. Most of it has to do with values, and self-evaluation, and my personal sense of timing where for some reason spring is when I think "something's got to give" and don't always make the best choices as a result. Flinging one's winter garment on the fire is great until there's a cold snap...
At this point I'm doing okay. I know the month isn't over yet, but I haven't gotten myself into any major scrapes and I think the fog may be starting to lift a bit.
Oh, apparently there is a J. Ralph on twitter - a musician - which I am finding vaguely discomfiting. I'm happy being cithra online, but it is just a little weird since this is the first I've encountered a public someone else with a version of my name. I get to find out what it's like to be a Mike or a Sarah finally, a bit. Or maybe this is some alternate life and why I wake up on occasion with strange bruises. ::shrug::
April 10th, 2014
November 27th, 2013
|06:36 pm - crowned glory|
Funny how my mind works. Once upon a time I must have asked my mother about her gold fillings and crowns (doubtless when quite young because shiny pretty shiny) and she must have told me they were something just for adults. Because all afternoon I've had this odd recurring thought in my head: I'm really an adult now because now I have a gold tooth.
With luck when I'm done I can pay my way across the Styx.
November 5th, 2013
|03:23 pm - flapable|
I've made a bit of a career in "real life" out of being fairly unflappable. Certainly in the old days, when I was working, I was usually the one at work who could be counted on. Also, there isn't much in the way of human behavior that surprises me, because I am both a sufferer of depression and a bit of a cynic. (And if you scratch me you will indeed find a frustrated romantic, for what that's worth.)
Conversely to that, and especially as I get older, I find that art and artistic endeavors affect me disproportionately. Books not so strongly, but visual media in particular can stir up emotions and effect reactions that are at times a bit debilitating. I'll be crabby for days while my subconscious processes a film. I find it difficult to watch broadcast television because I get whipsawed by the ads (which I hate - the boxed set has become my favorite method of tv series consumption and my salvation) and overly frustrated by the weekly wait between episodes. I cry at the cinema for no particular reason other than being drawn into the story.
Not sure where I'm going with this, other than the promised life-over-examined. Just my current thoughts, as I am avoiding Nanowrimo proper. (I don't have trouble with word count, I have trouble making the words all hang together and pretend to be a novel.)
November 2nd, 2013
|10:47 pm - National Theatre: Frankenstein|
One of my less-succinctly quantified criteria for good art is that it hangs around in the back of my head and pokes me every so often. The world stays with me. The ideas and images arise unbidden from the side-streams of my thought processes. A piece of my soul remains resident there; a piece of the art takes up residence in me.
Halloween night I celebrated by seeing both versions of Frankenstein by Nick Dear, as directed by Danny Boyle. Jonny Lee Miller and Benedict Cumberbatch each play the roles of both Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, and I am really glad I had the opportunity to see both versions back-to-back, as they have informed each other and played off each other in my thoughts and perceptions.
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is a story that has always resonated with me, but this particular play/production seems to have seriously hit the proper notes to take up semi-permanent residence in my bifurcated soul. The musical soundtrack, by Underworld, is a huge part of that as well, evocative, appropriate and haunting.
So I enjoyed it a great deal, but the more I think about it as time passes the rawer and more ravished I feel, and the less inclined I am to share my thoughts and feelings about it. I'm crabby because I hate feeling this vulnerable. I'm also feeling a little apologetic because I meant to post a proper, in-depth review and I find myself balking. Maybe in a while. Maybe.
In any case, there is still a showing of the reverse-casting (Miller as Creature, Cumberbatch as Frankenstein) on Sunday the 3rd at 9pm at SIFF Uptown. According to the National Theatre Live site there will be some showings again in January - for non-local folks that site also lists all the places holding screenings, you can search for your locality.
October 31st, 2013
|01:55 pm - esse|
that fire just underneath
masked by holding still
so few see the spark
discipline holds strong
passion is guarded
gathered as the storm
one among many
seer enough to see
the coiled waiting
would ground the lightning.