All posts tagged reft

Ouroboros

by Drey on May 26, 2009 in Life, Reft with No comments

Writing it down doesn’t matter so much any more, but I keep doing it for some reason. Perhaps it is an X on a tree I’m passing, so if I see another X I will recognize the path.

I’ve discovered that describing what is happening to me only makes it worse and is sometimes actually harmful. So let’s just say I am discontented on a deep, fundamental level. And I am alone in this. It is something for me to figure out on my own.

There is nothing to be understood here. It has been my experience that people want to do or say something to “make it better”. If you wonder if there is something you can do: you are already doing it. I have already made arrangements with you, but you may not have recognized them as such.

Trust me, you are all doing a fantastic job.

Quirkyalone

by Drey on December 1, 2008 in Avatar, Reft with 4 Comments

Sometimes I wish I could just date. Sometimes I wish I could just be the person she needed, whoever “she” happened to be at the time. Sometimes I want to ignore the extra layer of information I see superimposed over the world, my soul’s HUD for navigating waking life. But the pull of that silver path is too strong. And I want to follow it, even if it leads to my nemesis. No one wants to face rejection because of an aetheric arrow. No one wants to hear about time out of phase. My criteria is beyond unreasonable and I find this offends those who hear it. Simply put: She lights up. And I … ignite.

So this is an apology to all of the wonderful women who just seem so right, who just make so much sense. I’m sorry. Just think of me as a visitor to your planet, bound by alien directives and customs. It will be easier to explain my behavior that way. I’m sorry. You did not stand a chance against the avatar, the one I am moving toward as the sun moves toward the sea. I don’t want you to save me.

I’m not sick, but I’m not well

by Drey on November 26, 2008 in Life, Reft with 6 Comments

Historically, December is a difficult month for me, the darkest part of a yearly cycle. My wonderful friend Kristina, who practices Oriental medicine, decided to make a preemptive strike on this low season by prescribing some herbs. The Chinese name is Chai Hu Long Gu Mu Li Wan, but the more exciting, Potions class name for it is Bupleurum Dragonbone Oyster Shell. Already the herbs are taking the edge off.

I typically feel anxiety which rapidly snowballs into paranoia. Fantastical ideas about the people I know and their dark plots against me bloom in my mind. I realize how their supposed friendship was all just an elaborate ruse engineered to destroy me. No one actually cares about me and indeed they wish me harm. So I must be wary and watchful, striking first if I can. I peer out at the world from behind a veil, sensing that some unprecedented event is imminent. I fear that I will fall up into the sky or fly apart into my component molecules. The world fills with weird angles and indictments emanate from magazine ads and YouTube videos.

That’s how it usually goes. But in these past few years of doing actual work on these issues, they haven’t disappeared so much as become familiar monsters which I know how to handle. Having help in these times is an unexpected joy. I typically just go it alone, re-emerging on the other side. So I am very thankful for her.

One foot in front of the next

by Drey on August 8, 2008 in Avatar, Life, Reft with 10 Comments

I’m driving the BMW to Trader Joe’s. Beth is next to me. I notice that the experience of the car is transformed by who is handling it, much that of a gun or violin. Here the vehicle is purely utilitarian, getting us to where we need to go. I don’t care what it looks like or what it is and I only think about it in terms of how the BMW is not like my own car.

We’re talking about relationships and online dating. I haven’t given Beth the backstory of the avatar, so the things I say apparently horrify her on some level. I haven’t encountered many people who are comfortable with the rhetoric of the quirkyalone. Listening to myself, I know it sounds like I have excluded the entire world save one person.

I’m pushing the shopping cart at Trader Joe’s and reality has gone wobbly for me. I start to lose focus on where I am and suddenly I am in several different stores at once. Beth is asking me something about the grocery list, which has suddenly become indecipherable, the scrawled prescription from a mad chef. I answer noncommittally as the aisles telescope and emotions tumble down the shelves.

We manage to collect the ingredients for guacamole and hummus, dips which Beth insists must never be purchased, always made by hand. Later she would demonstrate her Shaolin avacado cutting style. She has resolved to eat an avacado a day while in California. I also found the frozen chocolate dipped bananas I had been craving.

The ride back is just like the ride there, only in reverse. Which is to say, completely unfamiliar.

And then

by Drey on July 7, 2008 in Avatar, Reft, Writing with 7 Comments

And then I waited for what I
wanted to know
And when I did not receive what
I felt was my due
I simply just did that which I could
I created it.

Now I know what this means.

Thank you.

Sum of the Parts

by Drey on July 7, 2008 in Reft with 5 Comments

Now I know what my next project should be. I need to pull myself together.

Help me, watch me, or stand aside.

Take this sinking boat and point it home

by Drey on June 12, 2008 in Reft with 1 Comment

Time shifted again, moving in rings rippling out, catching things in its swirl. I think I stepped off the path to look at something, but, like in the hotel, I can’t see the way back. A darkness inks into the cracks and everything starts echoing. Every face is just a variation of 30 base faces, endlessly reused. The songs know the secret and the songs are telling everyone.

The feeling is like the feeling is like is like the wings just explode like a drag chute in the wind of time. Ironic that the wings are protection, something to slow me down because I am always flying. Slinky sine wave of senses spirals sideways vibrate stop collapse together like cymbals like symbols like something I think he’s in love with her.

The Road to Awe

by Drey on May 30, 2008 in Movies, Reft with No comments

Watched The Fountain in glorious HD. I saw so many more connections this time around. Like following the threads of an intricate tapestry. My experience of reality is much like this film. I’m wired to experience it completely.

1. The Fountain
2. There Will Be Blood
3. Batman Begins
4. Ghostbusters
5. Barton Fink
6. Old Boy
7. Iron Man
8. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
9. District B-13
10. Cradle Will Rock

Dream in Indigo

by Drey on April 14, 2008 in Reft with No comments

I did not want to be categorized, pinned like a butterfly, labelled in a jar. But there was such a resonance, such a come hither, such a sense that I might find my people, that I had to go. I warned them of my reluctance, of my resistance to woo-woo bullshit (even as I craved it in my heart, even as I *knew* the things I knew). I wanted to be disqualified somehow, to fail their checklist. I want to belong, but on my own terms, ineffable even to me.

I joined their circle. I looked at the patterns. I closed my eyes and went inward. The narrator described the things I saw, too slow as my mind is nimble. Shocking to learn that everything has a name, each waveform, each transition, a chakra spinning at every gateway. I did not have a use for these words. An artist paints without naming every color. The narrator was almost scientific in his precision, enabling failsafes, gesturing towards spinning discs of code as though we were on a tour of the astral plane.

The gift I received was that everything had been accounted for. Someone else was curator of this knowledge and I no longer needed to worry about it. I went in search of the Like Mind and found that scholars had been recording all these silver spools for decades.

I could just go and be.

No Maps for These Territories

by Drey on April 14, 2008 in Reft with No comments

Some might call this a return to form. Some may see that the circle is a cross-section of an aetheric arrow. But now we shall exchange authorship, sidestepping into a parallel dream. Those of you here for the peanuts can get off at the next exit. Only existential bread and circus now.

When working on a puzzle, there comes a time when one must stop calling it that because it has turned into a picture. You can feel the scarred edges of each piece, yes, but there is no denying that what you behold is more than the sum of its parts. So it is useless to speak of a process, to account for vectors of trauma and ecstasy, to endlessly explain to the fascinated faces. When that last grain of sand crashes into the lower bell of the hourglass, well… one knows just the sort of beast they’ve become.

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