A Netflix Tour de Force

It has been a mind numbing binging period on Netflix. No more homework, so more feature films.

Also Evangelion is on Netflix, so more esoterical death than I could handle right now.

Trust in that veiled hand, which leads
None by the paths that he would go
And always be for change prepared
For the world's law is ebb and flow

Eh

It turns out my form of meditation is giving my therapist ideas. So, she says if it works for me, then it's all good.

Then I was talking about that point and the art exhibitions point came up. I go to the ones of our university's museum when I feel inspired by the topic or the pieces. Otherwise, I don't actively seek them, and wouldn't go if the overview or the synopsis doesn't speak to me.

So Lee Krasner came up when I was speaking of Milo's abstract work:

Of all I could find of him at our university's library, these were the portraits that caught my attention. Otherwise, I think I would stick with Joan Miró thank you very much.

There was talk about Georgia O'keeffe exhibit happening in Wichita throughout the spring/summer. I haven't gotten around seeing her work and I don't feel like it. I get hammered by facts but I honestly couldn't care less right now, nor do I go exploring art for the sake of it.

If anything, I honestly feel this one thing I do to alleviate my mind and that provides some relief is in the process of getting turned into "a thing", and I can't muster the capacity to say no or argue against it or stop it. I just take the brochure and move on, then will probably flake on the person at the last moment.

And perhaps some time later, I may stumble on Lady O'keeffe (I keef her name at least) in the library or somewhere else and I will look into it. And perhaps I will like it and perhaps not, and perhaps I will regret not going to this exhibit happening right here right now and perhaps not.But until then, I don't care.

Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl

I miss the beach and the ocean and the quiet mornings and the solitary world and the emptiness and the silence and the stillness and dawn

Kamikaze on the Loop

I got a car. How does it feel? Like everything right now, nothing.

I got my first B. I knew I will start slipping eventually and I knew a class will take the hit. I spoke about it to my therapist and she said: " What if it happens? It's not the end of the world!" She's right, it's not the end of the world. It's nothing really, just plain nothing, just empty worrying and anxiety.

Friends are coming all the way from the other side of the Atlantic. It doesn't feel like anything, but I can't act like it for a plan that finally came to a fruition.

Here is the thing about this whole time:

When Eminem put out Revival, I didn't like it. Neither the beats nor the lyrics. It just tsk tsk... Plus, Beyonce ? Really? Ed Sheeran? Seriously dude? Please add Justin Timberlake to this combo and I'm done...

But then again, every artist has to have that little black sheep. I still have appreciation for Revival, just no love. When my homies, fans as well if not hardcore fans, were berating the album, I defended Eminem's choices and argued my appreciation of certain tracks.

Then, Kamikaze dropped out and I liked few songs and connected with one or two, gave me goosebumps and ignited my replay tendencies. And that was it.

In my quest to trying to connect back to things I used to like, I can't seem to connect back with much. But I was listening to Kamikaze while trying to work out and I just started crying in the gym. It's not even the lyrics or thematics or the beats. It's just the emotion, the pain inside god damn. I exhausted the tears and the pain inside.

I am still listening over and over again to Kamikaze as of now, I never want to forget that. I can't believe how much it just makes sense irrespective of content and beats. That one is tough.

Hell, I am even relistening to Revival and his track with Beyonce hit me hard.

                               

Looks like it's me and good ol Marshall for this reinveted but not quite phase.

Being human is getting too hard good grief.

In Praise of the Shadows Re-read

Lemmings jumping off the cliffs

Speaking of childhood is bringing up some forgotten memories.

I remember watching this in the end of a VHS of a disney movie, and I remember being contemplative, and people around me chocked and pained.

I remember that instinctual acceptance I had and could neither explain nor bother explaining or investigating.

And thinking about it now, forcing myself to put it into words and share it, I said it was a wholesome "horror" of nature, another manifestation of things beyond our understanding (for now) and proof enough we will always witness things beyond our understanding anyway.

In these times, I either remember Nausicaa or Major Kusanagi. That's the part where I am no longer taken seriously. It took time but I came to understand the open and proud disdain many have for fiction and/or animation: They don't think it holds intellectual substance.

Catalyzing ideas is not the property of one endeavor, it is the byproduct of the observer and some of the soul and woven purity the creator may leave within.

Between Nausicaa who would have accepted this phenomenon and believe in the wisdom of Nature without any proof, and Major Kusanagi who would have been reminded of the limitations of our given perceptions in the present physicality and means of acquisition and interaction we have, I find myself wondering whether I am torn between two dichotomies or able to rally them both. Perhaps together they can lead to an instinctual learning path that can perhaps unfold more understanding, and better means to understand Nature and what's around us. Perhaps if both tenets were held in a healthy balance within the mind, the observer aware of them as tenets instead of dogmas, able to listen to both and many more and respect the mental process and apply it without getting defined by it, perhaps then...

But what do I know? I'm just a fan of two drawn fictional characters