bird for a soul

I'm nothing really. I am myself

[blakagar]

I Just Realized the Whole Premise for Jason Todd's Red Hood Is Built on a Lie

Batman really did try to kill Joker.

[blakagar]

In Defense of Devin Grayson: On Nightwing and Recovery

The most important comic for understanding Devin Grayson’s run on Nightwing was not published by DC Comics.

[blakagar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[blakagar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[blakagar]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[blakagar]

A hermit, a lonely soul, a musician. Living in the dark, playing in the light. Falling in love with someone unnamed, someone they don't know.

(#24), briose.

[blakagar]

Does skin peel off like layers of a biscuit?

(#21), they die in the streets.

[blakagar]

new work on paper 3, moma.

Inside the volume of two handfuls a gas with the density of metal expands faster than any known thing in the Universe. Giving up its binding force of energy a small chunk of dull grey matter rearranges itself into every nameable element. Time is drawn backwards into the void for an instant as matter is emptied into energy.

Outside streetcar rails melt and roof tiles boil as the city shudders for an instant before the berating pressures and ensuing firestorms. Not all life is obliterated. A burnt and naked man stands on a black river bank holding his eyeball in his palm unable to see the beauty that reversing the universe had for some. 

[blakagar]

I feel like a loose cannon. These emotions are like an entanglement I'm constantly busy with. The expression of power sometimes lies in a single note or person, or a very soft note. Thus, what we do is something delicate and also fragile. These sounds live within me. They rent out apartments in my soul. At some point I'd like to have an empty building. Renovations!

patricia kopatchinskaja.

[blakagar]

When is the performance a success? That's a good question. If everybody's happy in the end. That simple. A piece of my heart somehow always stays while I play. A few drops of blood and energy and spirit and goodwill and...desperation, too.

patricia kopatchinskaja.

[blakagar]

There is always a devil with us. He is very funny and likes to drink vodka, and he dances. He asks us difficult questions which we can't really answer. He is very much an illusionist. In this music, nothing is really true. Only the beginning.

patricia kopatchinskaja.

[blakagar]

Igor Stravinsky did not write a cadenza. He hated empty virtuosity. Here is an attempt to manage without virtuosity.

patricia kopatchinskaja.

[blakagar]

rosencrantz & guildenstern: life in a box.

Yes, one must think of the future. It’s the natural thing. To have one. One is, after all, having it all the time...now...and now...and now...it could go on forever. Well, not for ever, I suppose. (Pause.) Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it? Nor do I, really...it’s silly to be depressed by it. I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account that one is dead...which should make all the difference...shouldn’t it? I mean, you’d never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like being asleep in a box. Not that I’d like to sleep in a box mind you, not without any air- you’d wake up dead for a start, and then where would you be? Apart from inside a box. That’s the bit I don’t like, frankly. That’s why I don’t think of it...because you’s be helpless, wouldn’t you? Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you’d be in there for ever. Even taking into account the fact that you’re dead, really...ask yourself, if I asked you straight off- I’m going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be alive or dead? Naturally, you’d prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all. I expect. You’d have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking- well, at least I’m not dead! In a minute someone’s going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out.

“Hey you, whatsyername! Come out of there!” (Pause.)

I wouldn’t think about it, if I were you. You’d only get depressed. (Pause.) 

Eternity is a terrible thought. I mean, when’s it going to end? We have no control. None at all... (He pauses.) Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in child-hood when it first occurred to you that you don’t go on for ever. It must have been shattering- stamped into one’s memory. And yet I can’t remember it. It never occurred to me at all. What does one make of that? We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we knew the words for it, before we knew that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all the compasses in the world, there’s only one direction, and time is it’s only measure.

Death, followed by eternity...the worst of both worlds. It is a terrible thought.

[blakagar]

kopatchinskaja.

Dear Mr. Prokofiev, How exciting to have a date with you in Seattle tomorrow and Saturday. Isn't your 2nd violin concerto a ballet with different scenes? Or a movie with cuts between menacing reality and a magic fantasy-world with ticking clocks (or time-bombs)? A melancholy farewell to your youth or a prescience of Stalins terror? Genius knows…The melody in the second movement is love, how can I touch it? And the middle section a Russian jahrmarkt with bears, muzhiks and even a funny school-scene: a pupil's chorus and a strict teacher (bassoon). But the final movement must be a danse macabre, the castagnets sounding like rattling and dancing skeletons... Sincerely yours, your performer (with too much phantasy?)

[blakagar]

...and lightning strikes every half-minute, branching out from the clouds to the ocean below like a blood vessel the temperature of the sun.

(#5), project lucy.

[blakagar]

“Your Love” - FLAP JACK.

[blakagar]

"are you so naive to believe that people are really worth saving?”