o_O Lunatiche Sinapsi O_o

Cerebral twirls in cranberry sauce.

[liquidarma]

Throwback to April 2016

It’s funny how

INDECISION

can have the precision

of a surgical incision

the recision of our love 

signed off in a sharp, passing thought

as simple as adding a signature 

to a sheet of paper.

But then, wait: what if, and what not 

is this just a block

our feathers together still flock...

or not?

All I know for sure is 

this swinging has to stop.

O_o

[liquidarma]

Intellectual escapades.

Basically, mind games. Two tricks in my bag and they're soon spent, confidence is bent and there's not enough space to vent. A sniper aiming at an army of ants, lining up meticolously, ridicolously - a pernickey, rickety job. One I'd better quit, before it gets disturbing. Preserve the intellect, discard the escapade. And award yourself this accolade.

o_O

[liquidarma]

Before they get lost

Let me stick some useful AV resources somewhere safer than the abyss of my mind:

10 minutes BBC2 video about (live, pre-recorded & SDH) subtitling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2K9-JPIPjg.

Digital & Media Literacy Education for Chiuldren: http://powerfulvoicesforkids.com/content/which-teacher-type-are-you

Documentary “The Invisible Subtitler” by Ali Campwala: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pz75i6EsOto

The New York Times "Personal Tech" page --- Article "The Web Way to Learn a Language" by Eric A. Taub (interesting FLL tools: apps, platoforms, programmes, etc): http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/28/technology/personaltech/28basics.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

O_o

[liquidarma]

Anew

“In this Chautauqua I would like not to cut any new channels of consciousness but simply dig deeper into old ones that have become silted with the debris of thoughts grown stale and platitudes too often repeated. "What's new?" is an interesting question, but one which, if pursued exclusively results in an endless parade of trivia and fashion, the silt of tomorrow. (…) Now the stream of our own consciousness seems to be obliterating its own banks, losing its central direction and purpose, flooding the law lands, disconnecting and isolating the highlands and to no particular purpose other than the wasteful fulfilment of its own internal momentum. Some channel deepening seems called for.”

Robert M. Pirsig,

Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance.

Let it be thus started.

  O_o

[liquidarma]

I Miss You

I don't know,

My chest burns

My stomach turns

There's movement in the urn.

      In fact I miss you,

I miss you so much my tears are trapped

my smile is cracked

not broken mind you, it’s just a transparent small quiver

the dinky little bugger, inflicting headaches

depicting acres

of crops wavering under the wind’s breath.

My tongue reverbs in all these blurbs and it’s hard to tell apart

the genuine from the fake, the friend from the snake.

      In this crowded space

the dimension of us is flat, it travels through waves

mostly just sound in movement, pure noumenon

a truth posited while

meaning is lost in the apparatus

the surfacing iatus

that little crack in my smile…

         Time accrues and with the blues

I write these perplexed words

until it’s time to cash it all in,

feel the ticking clock articulate the distance

inesorable

advancing like the Gobi desert.

And yes it’s stating the obvious that we are far apart and it doesn’t sit well with me,

but just the thought of what it could be,

if we were both in the here and now,

a picture due a bow

your beauty

gooseflesh and butterflies

for a scented moment,

then jitters and a rude awakening

back to reality, a fatality

the physical dichotomy of α and ω,

where “I” is missing “you”

while walking on screws

over what we could not choose.

Carrying the remnants of a cracked smile through that distance.

[liquidarma]

The Key

In the myriad of facts and actions and requirements and duties and deadlines and opportunities...

Take a long breath, draw air into your lungs, close your eyes as you exhale. Then open them, do up your sleeves and start doing. One thing at a time.One thing at a time.

Focus. That's the key.

O_o

[liquidarma]

Midnight Discourse

Maybe you don't really not know what it is. Or do you? Or maybe what you think you know it's not the entire picture. The truth does want to come out but the hole is too small, and it is too big to fit through it. So you shiver and your eyes are soon swallen. I wish tears were paper-thin flakes one could collect, rather than watery secretions. You could throw them in the compost bin, at least they'd see a fruitful end. Or keep them and make them into a sculpture to remind yourself what a waste of time shedding all that was. The trouble is sometimes it's not, sometimes it's due, you've been sensing it coming, and it was frankly about time. All this being constantly happy and smiley and always upbeat and and and. Doesn't it make you weary? Doesn't it make you want to say, honestly: fuck you, seemingly happy people. You look like plastic to me, moulded into freakish gargoil grins. Happiness is not a state, it is only a momentarily feeling. And frankly, come think of it, wouldn't it make you feel much more alive to acknowledge the need to lie down, alone, and quite simply sink your face in the pillow?  And  there does not need to be a clinical reason for that (there always is A reason, but that's another story). It does not HAVE to mean something clearcut, by the book. In fact, it does not mean anything until you decide (sub)consciously, that it does. So no, you do not have a problem. You would if your face had that same plastic feeling and frizzy forced smile, and you had never shed a random tear. You are just human. Enjoy the lack of sharpness through the weeping, for once. Perfect neat and crisp vision can give you the headache, after a while it's too much. And random tears are the best kind, they give you a chance of stopping and thinking. Look at all those so-called people in another light.    

        Morale of this midnight rant: you've got to love those random tears. And the reflections of your surroundings within them.

o_O

[liquidarma]

You picked me up by accident,

and whittled me until nothing was left

but a fragile blade of thin cracked wood.

I have grown back but the stem is bent, our time is spent,

your smile fades and my skin is grazed,

accept regret

wipe the bitter sap, throw the cap

away,

re-build, re-think, re-assess

and start afresh.

[liquidarma]

I want never gets.

How about I wish?

I wish I was in an invisible bell jar where I could scream as loud as I could without anyone hearing.

I wish I was less ambitious and had a higher self-esteem.

I wish the snow I can see falling outside right now could freeze my syncopated heart at once.

I wish my tears could freely run down my cheecks, invisible, whenever they want to.

I wish I already knew everything I want to know.

I wish I wasn't such a Procastination Queen.

I wish my skin stopped being so itchy.

I wish I couldn't be touched by earthly, mundane occurrences.

I wish I didn't wish any of the above.

o_O

[liquidarma]

I Am Vertical

But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in the soil Sucking up minerals and motherly love So that each March I may gleam into leaf, Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted, Unknowing I must soon unpetal. Compared with me, a tree is immortal And a flower-head not tall, but more startling, And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring. Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars, The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must most perfectly resemble them-- Thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation, And I shall be useful when I lie down finally: Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me. Syliva Plath

[liquidarma]

Netsuke – 根付

Netsuke (根付) are miniature sculptures that were invented in 17th-century Japan to serve a practical function (the two Japanese characters ne + tsuke mean "root" and "to attach"). Traditional Japanese garments—robes called kosode and kimono—had no pockets; however, men who wore them needed a place to store their personal belongings, such as pipes, tobacco, money, seals, or medicines.

Their solution was to place such objects in containers (called sagemono) hung by cords from the robes' sashes (obi).  Whatever the form of the container, the fastener that secured the cord at the top of the sash was a carved, button-like toggle called a netsuke.

Netsuke evolved over time from being strictly utilitarian into objects of great artistic merit and an expression of extraordinary craftsmanship. Such objects have a long history reflecting the important aspects of Japanese folklore and life.

Ivory was the most common material used before ivory from live animals became illegal.

Erotic Netsuke

In Japan, the free symbolic expression of erotica found its roots in the traditional Netsuke. Erotic netsuke is known as the form of Shunga art where the sexual connotations are freely represented in figural and symbolic forms. Shunga Netsuke, meaning ‘Spring’ or sex, were inspired by the Chinese medical chronicles which gave a pictographic representation of the process.

Within the closed and conservative Japanese society, the erotic Netsuke enabled the Japanese to freely represent their views, customs without the repression of the ruler. These different erotic netsuke helped in ancient sex education and were popular gifts to newly wed.  

[liquidarma]

Innanzitutto Buon Anno. Con le iniziali maiuscole, nella convinzione che ci siano, in questi prossimi 365 giorni, delle occorrenze capitali. E ci saranno, non ci vuole Michel de Nostredame per poterlo predire all'alba di questo 2013 appena nato. Vorrei indirlo, hinc et nunc, per prima cosa con un monito, un augurio, un consiglio, un rinnovato appello alla Me 2, alla parte recondita (neanche poi così tanto):

FARE.

Con tutte le lettere maiuscole. Da prendere come il lancio di una pietra nel fiume nella speranza che la forza con cui è stata scagliata causi dei riverberi impossibili da ignorare. E una lista mandata quasi a memoria di propositi per questo anno che non scriverò finchè non è definita.

Inoltre, un passaggio di un libro di Giampaolo Pansa:

"Sono lo storie a fare la Storia. E le storie non devono far paura. Perchè dietro quelle storie ci sono i nostri genitori, e ci siamo anche noi. Quei figli che vogliono, semplicemente e per amore, capire."

G. Pansa, La Grande Bugia.

Parla di storie e di Storia il Pansa, da una prospettiva completamente diversa dalla mia. Ma il suo pensiero può essere estratto ed avere valore anche per chi non si scontra con le contraddizioni dell'essere italiano mentre si vuole gettare luce su fatti poco trattati (o trattati tramite un'ideologia politica, di qualunque parte essa sia) relativi alla guerra civile del '43-'45. Le storie individuali contano, e rendono più veritiera e ricca di sfumature la Storia. Per questo scrivere le proprie esperienze conta. Per questo sento una sorta di dovere nel ricominciare a farlo.

Per ora questo è quanto.

O_o

Pic: Weirdrobe audio project - Leeds Council Library, Leeds 2012.

[liquidarma]

It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel wrong...

The harmonic architecture of our feelings intertwines with the seams of everyday life, and I feel strange, somewhat numb, as if I couldn't or wouldn't fully let myself go. I am afraid yet you are wonderful, and I come to realise this in the small gestures, the fairness, the jokes and the patience. I know I can trust you. There's a door I'm trying to close, while an unrealised past is still haunting the present, and this I cannot deny. But I am growing stronger, and it might be because of the intrinsic dual geometry of what feels right, hinc et nunc.

On air: Harmonic 33 - The Rain Song

[liquidarma]

How will the Web impact our society? S. Jobs: We live in an information economy, but I don't believe we live in an information society. People are thinking less than they used to. It's primarily because of television. People are reading less and they're certainly thinking less. So, I don't see most people using the Web to get more information. We're already in information overload. No matter how much information the Web can dish out, most people get far more information than they can assimilate anyway. The problem is television? When you're young, you look at television and think, There's a conspiracy. The networks have conspired to dumb us down. But when you get a little older, you realize that's not true. The networks are in business to give people exactly what they want. That's a far more depressing thought. Conspiracy is optimistic! You can shoot the bastards! We can have a revolution! But the networks are really in business to give people what they want. It's the truth.

From The Wire's Interview to Steve Jobs http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/4.02/jobs_pr.html

[liquidarma]

In Memory of a Lost Friend.

Because I don't know.

Because I cannot explain.

Because I cannot understand.

Because I cannot believe what lays bare before my eyes when they close.

Clutches burning, semen, hospital smells, white sheets, knives, ropes encircling necks with the same medical precision with which stitches wrap around open wounds. Pulled tight in unison, they form the perfect wreath to crown this fatuous absurdity. You are gone and my tears are just a useless refrain. What it takes to purge the pain.

If only I could wipe away the countless hypocrisies buzzing in this ironed starched air. I will never judge you. I simply couldn't.

Because I don't know.

Because I cannot explain.

Because I cannot understand.

I hope you are somewhere better than the stifling nest where we both hatched. Somewhere you can grow the way you want it. Somewhere with no ropes or knives.

Rest in Peace.

O_o

Death Cab for Cutie - Your Bruise

It’s a backwards attraction to your forward eyes But you’re so farsighted that you can’t place trust In what or who you recognize We sped the Plymouth ‘cross the banks of the Mississippi River Mary Timony was smaller than a super ball Chitter-chatter, all these secrets started givin me the shivers Plain and simply broken down near Olympia I think your bruise was understated ‘Cause you can’t feel this anymore It’s getting bluer and you can’t keep faking That you can’t feel this anymore I think your bruise was understated ‘Cause you can’t feel this anymore It’s getting bluer and you can’t keep faking That you can’t feel this anymore I think your bruise was understated ‘Cause you can’t feel this anymore It’s getting bluer and you can’t keep faking That you can’t feel this anymore.

[liquidarma]

This is an accurate representation of the the way I feel inside right now.

Must be that I'm aligning different transcripts of The Matrix.

o_O

[liquidarma]

Grande balade à vélo, part troix.