Feb. 9th, 2003 08:04 pm:
[Trasnscribed from Xanga]

Due to popular demand, this site will be brought back and updated on a more regular basis.

The following are writings of mine that are too short to be their own entries but should get some face time nonetheless.

There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. This pattern has symmetry, elegance, and grace--those qualities you find always in that which the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, in the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush or the pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our lives and our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all things move toward death. And death manifests fear in those who do not understand its place within the pattern.

I have found that the moment you open your mouth to say one thing about the nature of reality, you automatically have a whole set of enemies who've already said reality is something else. Writing a metaphysics is, in the strictest sense of the word, a degenerate activity.

Strangeness is always both attractive and repellent. A character who is familiar and unsurprising seems comfortable, believable -- but not particularly interesting. A character who is unfamiliar and strange is at once attractive and repulsive, making the reader a little curious and a little afraid. We may be drawn into the story, curious to learn more, yet we will also feel a tingle of suspense, that tension that comes from the earliest stages of fear, the uncertainty of not knowing what this person will do, not knowing if we're in danger or not.

Classifying consciousness encourages "higher than Thou" games of one-upmanship. People waste energy defining which state they are in, as if consciousness were a cosmic grammar school, in which third-graders were entitled to look down on kindergartners. The point is not what level we are on, but what we are learning.


I am cured, gentlemen: because I can act the madman to perfection, here; and I do it very quietly. I'm only sorry for you that have to live your madness so agitatedly, without knowing it or seeing it.
Luigi Pirandello, Henry IV

 


3 Comments

Fantastic entry! 2 thumbs up, fine family fun.
Posted 2/9/2003 8:48 PM by rzanadana

   
"Fantastic Entry!" How can you say that? This entry was the worst one I've ever read. I want to hear more about your girlfriend the one that you love so much! I loved your philosophy on love and lust. I read it over and over again. You really have a way with words. Tell me more about her please!!
Posted 2/20/2003 6:46 PM by KiddoSock

   
Bran that was not me who wrote that last Entry, Kire told me about it, oy, kiddo, I'm so sorry, someone must have my passwork, gesuslawesus, I'm sorry about that kid, I'll try my damndist to try to find out who it is, I am so sorry!
~Rin
Posted 2/21/2003 10:09 PM by KiddoSock

start new thread