through space & time

never mind what you do next, you'll know. sometimes the cryptic is okay. maybe Neverland was never far away.

[jeremyallanhawkins-blog]

[astarwhale-blog]

jeremyallanhawkins:

One more from Josef Koudelka.

[astarwhale-blog]

The Long Intermission.

The year is 3052. But that is of little consequence, as is my insolence toward anything regarding the people I have encountered thus far this year and the events surrounding them.

I would call it a scandal, and it may, on the surface, have seemed to be one. But I knew. I know. I know that not two metres below that thin divide, that line between truth and reality, illusion and dream, lay something far more formidable than what everyone made it to appear. Though I am, by no measure, the hero of this story, even Apollo could not relate the facts in a more truthful and sincere manner than in the way in which I will do now. Please note that my story, as incredulous as it may seem, is quite lucid and is, in a manner, our story. It is my hope that if the right person hears of these events, that the future may somehow be reedemable --somehow survive. It is in courage, I write these words, not in fear, knowing they may be my last. What follows is my earnest message to humanity...

[astarwhale-blog]

Because the universe is so last <insert term for nearly infinite expanse of time here>.

[astarwhale-blog]

Is there anything so fantastically brilliant as science-fiction? Alright, I'm sure there is..outthere...somewhere in the universe. But, rationally! I say that if I ever feel an inkling of depression about the general state of things, a travel through time fixes it nearly instantly. And unlike fish&chips, it has no calories to speak of!

[astarwhale-blog]

crunch of cereal

splash of cold milk

rainbow colours collide

in the bowl

into my stomach

[astarwhale-blog]

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.

[astarwhale-blog]

you spoke

the world did not cease 

to spin

my heart kept beating

and it was good

[astarwhale-blog]

Is it just me or is the term 'prose' a bit equivocal? I dictionaried it and all I could conclude was that my previous conclusions were inconclusive. I'd appreciate any feedback as to the true meaning. For instance, would this be classified as prose? And if not, what exactly would it be classified as?

[astarwhale-blog]

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." — Rainer Maria Rilke 

[astarwhale-blog]

there was a time when I would mourn for you all night

with the stars showering their luminescent dust into my hair

as if that's the best they could manage

as if sending to me a secret code of light

but my eyes were shut so tightly

I didn't receive their message until now

I didn't realise that I was to overnight it to you

then you moved and left no address

so I send letters to everywhere, hoping you find one

or maybe someone mourning with open eyes

will find light from a stranger

will find stars through their tears

[astarwhale-blog]

Alright, so we're not out to break the rules; we're embarking on our maybe slightly eccentric (both humanly and astronomically speaking) journey to use them to our advantage, tweak them, and to, every now and then, rewrite them entirely. I think that's How progress is made. You don't put an ugly vase in the rubbish bin, you repurpose it. Or maybe you smash it into hundreds of tiny fragments and assemble the pieces to make something new. Or give it someone who may view the ugly as anything but. So that's what we're out to accomplish. only maybe not with so much with vases, but life in general.

[oh-cellardoor-blog-blog]

[astarwhale-blog]

oh-cellardoor:

page twenty (by tara rose toes)

[astarwhale-blog]

keep going, you say. just do it and don’t look back. and what is there to look back at, anyway? you call that a view? that hazy skyline and tatterted copses with only cemetaries with containg headstones of once-beautiful gardens, now confined to unchivalrous professors of botany and faraway isles…no, kindly look ahead. I’ve made a place for you, but I want it to be a surprise, so don’t look to far. concentrate on your next step, on the lightness of your shoulders, the freedom of your voice, your hands, your fast moving feet barely stirring the earth beneath them, just a brush of a kiss in the dust, a child dancing on the feet of the world as it orbits and spins in its own time. focus on that.

[astarwhale-blog]

the music is loud. you want me to listen? capture my attention! dazzle me with resounding bass disonance and clever harmonics, but be more than that. be universes of colour and complex&beautifull equations clashing together at light speeds, giving birth to new worlds we could never fully imagine.

be run-away trains, barefeet running down stairs, weepy tree branches sweeping the grass into gentle circles, the smell of peppermint and pipe tobacco from so long ago, the watch tick-ticking always, steadily, nearly imperceptible and unceasingly present. be the not knowing and the moment’s certainty, a paradox, yet simple like 2nd grade math drills in the humid afternoons.

but the music is so loud. but don’t. don’t try to be louder, be the music and I’ll listen. you’ll fill my ears and my head. I’ll fall asleep and you’ll fill my dreams. when I wake, you’ll be memories and lilac-grey forgottens, disconnected notes and fractured symphonies. maybe over tea, I’ll assemble the pieces and it will all come back; we’ll begin again and laugh at how tiresome the process seems. how mundane, how… holy. and it will end like that, or maybe someplace in the midst. because music is like that and so we are.

[astarwhale-blog]

it’s been awhile. and that is so mild to dictate it in that manner. the cities, the traffic lights, shops, people, pass by so quickly, looking in all directions, I wonder do they ever stop? somewhere between the cracks I’m vaguely aware of dreams and thoughts of pasts as if I cast a gleaming net into water rich, so incredibly rich with silvery-light fish who must only ever think of the feeling of the water against their smooth scales, made for that feeling.

· time, places, people, oceans,

[astarwhale-blog]

“All these years, all these memories, there was you. You pull me through time.”