Ripe with things to say
Tonight, after a natural high from watching a repeat of “Last Days of Earth”, I decided to take a break from apocalyptic doom and join friends at a karaoke bar, where my singing inflicted its own annihilation on a crowd of innocent ears.
So fun! I never really mind sucking, because, well, a black hole always sucks more, right? Haha. Seriously, people who don’t get up there and sing disappoint me. I especially don’t like those giggling girls who need constant reinforcement from their boyfriends, and not just with karaoke, with everything. I don’t think you should be in a serious relationship before you appreciate and respect who you are yourself or you end up defining yourself by how this other person sees you. You allow your self-esteem to sit in the palm of their hand. Lame!
Anyway, tonight, some guy was telling me about this new space show at the American Museum of Natural History’s Hayden Planetarium called Journey to the Stars and I am really interested in going to see it. I might treat myself to it Friday morning!
Look: http://www.amnh.org/rose/spaceshow/journey/
Neato!!
Saying neato inevitably makes me think of my gal Daisy.
I was reading the Canadian Douglas Coupland today, and I liked this:
“Jason once told me that eye contact is the most intimacy two people can have - forget sex - because the optic nerve is technically an extension of the brain, and when two people look into each other’s eyes, it’s brain-to-brain.”
Um, not sure if this guy ever had sex, but I am pretty sure he has a point about the whole eye contact thing. I wonder, however, how one knows if, when locking eyes, the other person is feeling the same blitz of happiness, lust, captivation, as if all the atoms inside you are dancing! I want to know, but maybe not knowing is what makes it all possible in the beginning. This is precisely why I don’t like wearing my glasses most of the time; it has nothing to do with vanity. It has everything to do with knowing there is a barrier between my eyes and other eyes, even if it is clear, it is still there.
This thought thread reminds me of the recent art work I was looking at by Dan Hillier. He is an artist based in Seattle; I’d really like to go to his gallery there. When I was a teenager, I would write these little stories for my friends about bands we liked. They were usually sorta raunchy and involved us meeting the musicians and going on adventures with them. Anyway, I was thinking about that when I was looking at Hillier’s work, because I think they tell a story too when viewed in different orders. For instance:
This girl feels like no one can ever understand her completely or accept her fully. She hides those things she doesn’t want others to see, like this part of her that is made of octopi. Octopus skin is ugly, slimy, and not at all, what society tells us is beauty. She only lets all the truth of herself out when she is alone.
She meets someone she thinks she could love, but she doesn’t know how to act, afraid to scare him away. One day, after some time has passed, she makes the first move, reaches her arms toward him, because the chance of something is worth the possibility of rejection. She lets him see her octopi. She waits for his response.
The man is quiet at first, but then he extends his arm too, and out pops his own tentacles of octopi. Beautiful! He has it too. We all do. He shows her what he had hidden. He is relieved. She is relieved. Their world is made fuller and rich because of embracing each other’s octopus limbs! Nerdy?!
Now that I have rambled, I will go read some Anna Karenina and find sleep eventually! :-)
