017Gen.y-diary

Open eyes

Fri, 08 Jun 2012 16:29:03 -0400

To begin to deconstruct one’s own state of mind, one’s own process of thinking.

Can be started by dwelling and becoming sullen within emotional, psychological, and social complexities often dubbed “modern” or “postmodern”

Such dwelling will almost surely end in non-ending, excruciating inner pain

These feelings can be masked repeatedly by objects: proof of the materialism and superficiality of our current collective state (which should or should not be removed from a singular state of superficiality or materialism [often dubbed “modern” or “postmodern”]).

Repeat.

Repeat until ears bleed.

Repeat.

You have now reached phase one of “Open eyes”

Please tread slowly, the water is deep.

what i might see

Mon, 04 Jun 2012 21:31:42 -0400

from this perspective, from this angle, on this perch, things are much different than they were before. lifted away from problems, and answers, and decisions, and the making of all of those things. up here, everything seems so unclear, blurry, as if there was water streaming across my head towards my eyes, down my chin, dripping, falling, closer and closer to the ground. I’m close enough now, to see that those decisions which happen so far away, they are the ones that really matter. far away, i can’t breathe as well, and far away my feet touch the ground, way down there my feet touch the ground, im too close, and you can see. because from far away, every turn of a head, every lift of the wrist, is for you, and for you only, and so when i sit and i think and i talk and i wonder about it all, i keep revolving around this singular idea: that you are you, and that perched up here, nothing is real.

I’ve lost sight of what is real and what is true, i can’t remember when i was supposed to lift my fingers to call for help, or if i was supposed to make a certain motion towards a certain sound, a certain specific kind of ringing that will leave my ears buzzing with sensations like wisdom and truth. ringing of bells, like in churches, in valleys, in deserts, where no one can hear the ringing and so it rings on until alas it resonates in to a hum, spanning so far that your eyes start to bleed from squinting so hard to see where the hum ends.

i have to stop typing because i’ve become much too lightheaded to continue. for this i am sorry.

headmooo-ves

Fri, 25 May 2012 15:06:25 -0400

fluttering. lots and lots of fluttering. intersecting images about what i was supposed to think, what i was supposed to say, what all of those thoughts and those words are supposed to mean. and what i should perceive about the meaning. all just fixed notions to beats and frequencies that dont have names or words or prefixes or grammar rules or spelling errors. just me, you, them, and what we all sense, below the surface, tingling at the finger tips and maybe the tips of the toes, for some. it is not that i do not want to move forward it is that i do not want to begin to escape the comfort of being aware of the present and what may or may not come. struggling to understand where the line begins and the empty void ends, or if both have always been whirling cosmic forms and shapes with no names and no words to describe them. the fascination that can develop in trying to understand all of this, to try and understand why i use the same words so frequently and search for some that better illuminate what i attempt to rip from the depths of my soul and my mind and my heart and all the “things” that thing themselves between more things. maybe because when i say things your mind goes whirling in to more things, creating a thing for you to deal with. it’s all just things.

remember that.

maybe.

or dont.

this is all just nonsense mixed in with a couple of repetitive words, some bad grammar, and auto-spell that keeps me at the line all the way.

devidsketchbook: A site-specific sculpture by Federico Diaz A...

Fri, 25 May 2012 15:00:20 -0400

devidsketchbook:

A site-specific sculpture by Federico Diaz

A lot of different media are used by the artist such as: prints, video and digital drawings. They lead to the making of sculptural forms made of painted plaster, polyester and wood.

[Via thefoxisblack]

5.17.12

Sun, 20 May 2012 14:04:44 -0400

5.17.12

Emotionalur

Thu, 17 May 2012 17:04:10 -0400

Blurring boundaries between my heart and the hands that guide my head. Running running running, so fast now, so much faster then. To feel like you are standing at the peak of a cliff on top of the worlds largest pile of self-created shit. You look below, ready to jump in to all that you had climbed from. Startled, the motions stop, you begin to sway. You begin to say: these are the things that leave me restless, these are the things that leave me still. The entire universe, the entire existence of life, of creation, float in front of you, being split and fractured again and again and again and again until things begin to settle in to tiny and coordinated categories, categories with no boundaries, ones that end up looking like piles, mushing over on to one another, fraying and falling, stacking high then sliding all the way down. Just like you, when you stood at the top of that mountain, before you took the plunge back down. Not to worry my friend, for there is always more to build, more to be found, and always another hill, ready to be climbed.

devidsketchbook: Ramón Espantaleón “First Apple” First Apple is...

Thu, 17 May 2012 16:58:15 -0400

devidsketchbook:

Ramón Espantaleón “First Apple”

First Apple is an ambitious work that seeks to recreate various scale models of New York City and in some cases to map these three dimensional renderings to the Twin Towers themselves. To create the base Espantaleón painstakingly constructed Manhattan in clay by forming 31,920 volumetric units each representing actual buildings, at a scale of 1/65. These volumes were then used to create pixelated city blocks from which he cast silicon molds that could in turn be used to reproduce each block with epoxy resin and polyurethane. This reproducible method allowed for a potentially unlimited exploration of space, color, material (and in some cases typography) resulting in the varied forms of architectural model pointillism.

[via thisiscolossal]

Stumbled

Tue, 08 May 2012 12:47:22 -0400

I faltered. I stumbled, Maybe only swayed a bit, not so much that you could see, but enough to make you turn your head and glance to the side with a look on your face that resembled love or maybe fear, between the two was your nose all crinkled and smooshed against what may have been glass, more likely an invisible wall that i will break down eventually with the mallet that has been clenched in my hands for twenty-plus months and years to date that make me sick to my stomach. so i will break the wall. and smash all the little pieces on the floor over and over again until they and i and you are screaming your name in unison, in Ecstasy, eternally. forever.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond..."

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 01:40:51 -0400

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do…And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

- Marianne Williamson (via stayinthelightco)

Feelings

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 01:36:07 -0400

Maybe I am over thinking, creating, fabricating memories out of distant thoughts about some kind of future things that creep viscerally like stuff full of blood and rushing beats of my tightened up heart. It hurts trying to think about not circulating around my behaviors of self consumed consumption about massive details so big that they blind you, from me. I just wonder if all of these swooshing rings in my ears are incessant motions of upward motivation from deep within, more inside of you than inside of me, yet outside the reach of stumbling footsteps on the marble atrium that dizzy head of all the children floating. More than this, just wanting relaxation such as sitting in a grove with blades cascading my feet above and below causing beats under upturned cribs for senses of sensations surrounding ideas like earth and its population defacing creations thrown astern for safe keeping past locks and chains and wardens with yellow suits leaking and squeaking as if passing with no sound would not do. just all this to want you.

ymutate: Julian Stanczak, allot, found at julianstanczak.net

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 02:16:58 -0500

ymutate:

Julian Stanczak, allot, found at julianstanczak.net

Photo

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 02:15:00 -0500

angrywhistler: Aron Demetz

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 23:29:17 -0500

angrywhistler:

Aron Demetz

ymutate: Max Ernst, Blind Swimmer (effect Of A Touch) 1934 Oil...

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 23:29:02 -0500

ymutate:

Max Ernst, Blind Swimmer (effect Of A Touch) 1934 Oil On Canvas 93 X 77 Cm Julien Levy Collection, Bridgeport, Ct, found here

ymutate: Julian Stanczack 1928- “Anywhere-Everywhere” 1967...

Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:41:58 -0500

ymutate:

Julian Stanczack 1928- “Anywhere-Everywhere” 1967 Acrylic on canvas,

found at mondo-blogo.blogspot.com

Audio

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 02:12:05 -0500

Lived experience can never be stolen. Rilke said that. Your life experience, even your childhood, is...

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 01:35:31 -0500

Lived experience can never be stolen. Rilke said that. Your life experience, even your childhood, is the biggest treasure you have. You can dig into it, and nobody is going to take that away from you.

-Ahmed Alsoudani in an interview featured in Art in America

Untitled #2 (Detail) Devian Reyes

Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:34:00 -0500

Untitled #2 (Detail)

Devian Reyes

Untitled (Detail #1) Devian Reyes

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 23:53:00 -0500

Untitled (Detail #1)

Devian Reyes

2011: A Year Behind Us

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 23:12:09 -0500

I sit inside my mind, entering a new meadow of problems.

Attempting to fill up all of the tiny holes that were blasted out of my ego. Wondering whether to turn left or to turn right, but entirely content with the feeling that neither is falling down, spiraling out of control. For it can be said, and would be entirely true, that I was ready to let go, and would have had few gripes about not holding on. Yet somewhere, a light shined through, so bright that it pierced all of these little holes in this big ego. pushing away the things that were making me calloused, revealing spots of bright white light behind it, making me understand that what is ahead of me is more important than what is past me.

I’d like to think that somewhere the creator(s) is floating, smiling, proud that I have overcome the obstacle that was placed in front of me, ecstatic that it can place another ahead of me.

For I am running, arms open, head high, laughing, with the wind blowing through my fingers, realizing that this is the way that things can always be. sitting, content, quite, full of mystery.