I watch the intrude-a-vision more than use my mobile interrogation device. I see the want/need based streams all day. I want unpopulated space between me and thee. I want space in my rooms so we can be the furthest apart yet still in the same room. Only the echo is natural but the fireplace is digital.
I watched the iHouse movement people make their own shelter, pile o'sticks and punctured cans, on a trailer, tethered to the ground. The echo in these has been digitally remastered and the scaled down fireplace is digital candle.
Nothing beats the Japanese who have learned to live tightly packed. They've elevated origami, folded space, folded objects, folded minds. Wait, folded minds? Yes, they have created infinite personal space within themselves to the point they can be alone while being together. They are not ignoring or mentally abusing each other while doing it either. To be and not be is something Shakespeare always said was the answer, not a question of or.
My house is one of ever shifting piles of paper, magazines and pamphlets, pill bottles and electronic media remotes. We move matter to make an appearance of order, clothes, shoes and meal implements. Oh, the metaphysics in this place. We have chaos, force order, let it decay into disorder. The only junk to enter the space is groceries and the mail, yet many bags of castoffs are jettisoned every week.
We stopped breeding cats and are stuck with an aging remnant of 6. They shed like snakes, but the process is not one of elegance. So cute while grooming themselves when without warning and without discretion of place, expel an unidentifiable hairy mass. It's a stillborn mouth birth. They remove themselves to the other side of the room, wasn't me. Out of 6 one is purr-less, something happened in kittyhood I think. Then perhaps he's high frequency, his meow is normal. They practice opening doors, blinds and minds. Like Jedi they stare you down from a distance, then distract you presenting their backs for a scratch so you didn't win, you never win, you always scratch.
The quantum of life is finding balance between a physical world and a mental world. Hard to have two masters. You must keep up in one and let it be in the other. The constructs are all illusions within illusions complicated by sensory apparatus (the meat suit), embedded organic halodeck technology and consciousness with amnesia. We catalog our thoughts by telling stories, sometimes we even find ourselves in the characters we play. We like aliens but they are us, why? We look at mirrors, not within.
Now let me be clear. We maybe are challenged in the physical world, the lot of us. We live in the mental world, stepping down into the physical every now and then to take care of meat suit issues. Some of us adorn the meat suit with swag and strut a little. Some paint, plaster, mold, shape, pierce, engrave and semi-permanently accessorize, hey!?! Mostly though, we live in our minds, making and getting pimped by illusions, ours or others. Who is driving this egg basket or this sperm blaster anyway? Who is driving the driver who drives the driven? You, the meat suit jockey.
We are the waves in motion, when someone notices, we become the point. We like being the point all the time, or the wave all the time. We don't know the quantum reality. A conscious photon thriving in a symbiotic convergence with metaclorians. Now ask yourself, “is it real or Memorex?”
I love desert landscapes. Every one is so alike, yet each unique at the same time.. There's just something romantic, and barren, and harsh about them. I relished another opportunity to translate the desert world in RJ Eliason's, The Mage Chronicles.
