Yes, down here. I was thinking about what to write and trying not to be false about it. But I am doing it anyway as you have already seen. I am using the excuse that I cannot help it. So, fine.
Really engaging with the real everyday concrete world makes my eyes hum.
Sometimes my vision focuses so sharply that I can almost see through trees and cinder blocks and automobiles; but still never human beings.
My eyes involuntarily avert from the human face.
Imagining myself as the object of the gaze of another makes my heart beat furiously so I can hear my heartbeat on my own breath.
My dog has a lot of extra skin, so I often call him Dermis instead of his actual name. And sometimes he answers by looking at me.
I wonder if I wonder too much.
Laughter is also viewed as a sign of madness.
Today I am going to watch a film about Slavoj Zizek. Yesterday I watched and liked very much a film by Jean-Luc Godard. I watched it because Christopher Higgs mentioned it on his blog, where he posts about all kinds of films and artists and etc. I really enjoy Chris's blog. And soon I am going to watch every David Lynch film I can find, such as: Lost Highway, Fire Walk With Me, and the Twin Peaks series. I am excited to watch those things. I like the Lost Highway soundtrack a lot. I am open to suggestions. Please suggest things.
The average temperature here is going to be around 30 degrees all week, getting down into the low 20's at night. I hate the cold.
I put up some Christmas decorations yesterday: a small fiber optic tree, a munchkin-sized snowman wearing a floppy red hat and other clothes, and a long lighted garland type deal along the steps coming into the living room. I did not feel stupid or angry while doing this.
When I drive at dusk, when the sun has gone down and the horizon is still a little orange and yellow and blue, I look at the bare trees in sharp contrast against the sky and I imagine that the trees are bronchioles and we live inside a lung.
While googling "parts of a lung" I found the following paragraph, which is an abstract for an article entitled "Acoustic Properties of the Human Chest" in a scholarly journal called Acoustical Physics, and it struck me as a fine example of how technical language can be beautiful.
Abstract: A cross-spectral method for determining the longitudinal velocity of sound in the tissues of a human chest in vivo is proposed and substantiated. The method is based on the detection of a percussion stroke by two acoustic sensors positioned over opposite parts of a lung. Statistical estimates are obtained for the longitudinal velocity of sound in chest tissues (the middle part of the right lung) from a group of three men (40–47 years old) without any evident lung disorders in the frequency ranges of 80–130, 170–290, and 350–500 Hz. The adequacy of the double-resonance acoustic model of the human respiratory tract, which combines the resonance of the air volume in the human chest and the wave resonances of the bronchial tree as a narrow pipe, is experimentally verified.
Translated from Akusticheski Zhurnal, Vol. 51, No. 4, 2005, pp. 483–487.
Original Russian Text Copyright © 2005 by Korenbaum, Tagil’tsev.
I often find philosophical language full of music and beauty. In his book entitled The Step Not Beyond, Maurice Blanchot describes the self as a "canonic abbreviation." That phrase is still with me.
I think that my state of mind today will find beauty in almost anything.
Snow is not falling right now.
Tomorrow will be different.