Another Sunday Night
Published Monday December 18th, 2006 from my humble abode, just a few feet away from my bed where I shall soon rest. Listening to Sigur Rós, feeling content, but slightly lonely.

Jessica and Colby's dogs Dane (foreground) and Lem. Dane thinks he's a person.
If you have ever want to feel like you're lying on a white fluffy cloud flying over the world as if you were riding on Falkor's back, the sights bright in exposure, vivid in colour, and full of emotion, surrounded by a sense of possibility, then give Sigur Rós a listen. I want to feel like that all the time. I'd like to float through life watching endlessly at the things which go by as I float past. The world painted with bright and vivid pastels, borders defined by solid, smooth, and crisp lines. Lines defined but not obstructive. Float float float.

No. Grounded. My feet firmly planted against the earth. Stuck in reality, a reality which seems too real and not real at all. Unchanging and constantly changing. The same, but always different. Everything makes sense, but everything makes even less sense. Time goes by, and by. Time moves like a pianists fingers moving across the keys as he presses each one firmly down and then swiftly releasing them, letting the keys hit up against the tips of his fingers as he moves up and down the octaves. In some way, because he pressed the keys which made the sounds, the sound echoing through the room somehow embodies the pianists emotions, his thoughts and his greatest desires. Like the passing measures in the sheet music he plays, time passes by, changing as the sound of each key does, and so we move. We float. The world rushes by us left and right in a blur. By the time we get a glimpse of something comprehensible, it has already bored us. My feet firmly planted against the earth, grounded, I float.

Consequently another weekend has passed by. A simple weekend, but a surprisingly enjoyable one. I spent both Friday and Saturday evenings at Jessica and Colby's flat with Cory, Norm, Isaac, and Brian Tuttle. Now only two weeks remain in 2006. Now only five weeks remain until my 21st birthday. Now only a few seconds before I go to bed.

Additional photos from the past week.
Posted by a bear @ 12:01, December 18, 2006
"Like the passing measures in the sheet music he plays, time passes by, changing" gah how do I view time in my life? I don't play the piano.... I'm just a bored creature.... can you use boredism to measure time? Time seems to elongate with boredism.... can i slow time itself?

Posted by chris @ 12:27, December 18, 2006
I like how the imagery serves such a dual purpose (it works really well). On one hand, metaphor and imagery serve to abstract our specific emotions into ones that communicate more universal concepts, enhancing communication, despite being nonspecific. But on the other hand, your specific choice of outlined, pastel imagery greatly resembles you, and not necessarily those reading, so, you too are also very specifically broadcasting yourself. Aah, I like it a lot. It's like the pianist and his music, echoing about the air.

Posted by Marco @ 13:00, December 18, 2006
I dunno.. it sort of feels like I was trying too hard.