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those that shy around me
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christopher@30seconds.org
You get the idea.
So I've been thinking about a redesign. But then I thought is that like revision? I hate revision. Can't stand the process most of the time. How representational of me is this site? Why redesign?
'Cause I'm tired of seeing the same images linking to the same pages. But then, you don't come here for the design. You come for something else. Content...
And I've been ignoring you lately. I really haven't had much to say. I've a lot of thoughts that flicker like neon. Or better yet. Have you ever walked under a street light at the exact moment it snaps off. The spotlight in reverse. Then you stand on the street for a second, your heart pounding a little faster than before as the bugs disperse. I'm buried in papers this week. Taxes. Letters. Catalogs. I can't see the surface of my desk for all the clutter I've not had the mind to put away.
Just like those ideas that disperse with the bugs. Where? My psyche and I have been wrestling all week and I can't really say who's the winner here because it's a matter of will and psyche wills. I follow. So Saturday I'm going to D.C. Out of town. I'm going to reclaim. Lost youth, yeah. The Sisters of Mercy are playing. Lost ideas. I doubt it. There always with me.
See the thing is I've been visualizing this week. And paying very close attention to music. My music. Giving it away is the best and worse feeling ever. To stand on a stage is bliss unless your alone up there and the crowd drinks and talks while you play out your psyche to them. They ignore you. They turn their backs. They never boo or say you're crap because that would be a reaction and you don't even get that much. Mute point.
But...one person turns their head around and you see the look in their eyes. Contact.
Do you know the look? It's the depth in the eyes you can see blocks away. To be truthful it really is the look and you can tell within moments of meeting someone if they have it or not. If they have the depth. The psyche can't hide in people that have "the look". I surround myself with those people. I isolate myself from those that don't have it. Or I give them far less of myself. You...I give you all, everytime I sit here regardless. I can't see you. I don't know. What does that say?
Redesign. I think not. Why did I use an eye on the splash screen? A portal, gateway. The entry to the soul. Eyes...
Last night I walked past a record shop and three paces past I stopped. I turned and went inside. A little bell rung on the door behind me. I counted the abc's in my head until I found the row, the artist I was looking for. I bought everything they had, stuffed it in my leather jacket and went on my way. I couldn't bear to sort. To choose. I'll take it all. But I must choose with my own work. Give it away in pieces. Never have the chance to explain. That's why I play in the parking garage down the street.
In there the echos let me know I'm not alone. That my voice has strength. Sooner or later someone always comes by and sits for a moment. That moment is bliss...That I give away so I can take. But it is a complete moment. A shell to wrap around the whole. The strings I touch when in the company of other belong to others. And sometimes...sometimes someone with the look sits at the far side of the garage. Those with the look never get too close. You know why...
But you make eye contact. Feel things out. Next week they're back again. The week after closer. After that perhaps a hello and just as quickly a quiet goodbye. I love you...
Yeah, I paint the picture. The environment around me the palette. My music the soundtrack. All the while I look, reach, hope, and cling... to the eyes...
goodnight 1.29.98
