Up at 5:30AM....

I totally forgot this time could exist at the beginning of a day.

I dropped of Bec at the station, so she might voyage into the old realm. I envy her.
Although meanwhile the house is mine. ALL MINE! I'm going to sleep all around that bed of mine.

Last night I had quite an experience. This
A night with the Arts community.
A bizarre outing. Two fellow students and I did such on a whim, and were greeted to an eccentric bunch of what could best fit the description 'artsy fartsy' types. Thoroughly diverse they were, with musicians, ultra-flamboyant actors, writers, photographers, goth families, lovely older gents and ladies, and a little dog running around, socializing around a BBQ, listening to artistic audio. The highlight were these gents:



There was something about their ancient/folky style; the cleanliness of tone, and deepness of their baritone. It felt like history was echoing itself into the modern age. It filled the room with a sense of aged sentiment; a rare experience.
It many ways it reminded me of old church barbeques, many community aspects bearing similarities, but with a much more open frame of mind, probably to the point where some brain was falling out.

It was such a strange experience. Here I was with two new friends, out in this weird family-like arts barbeque in some obscure country-ish town engaged in the eccentricities of artists, all out of nowhere. But I'm grateful for it. It revealed another portion of the massive woven tapestry that is human experience and helped me think in different ways.
Its crazy what people can do with their time when survival stops distracting them.

Run Lola Run, and all the pretty words...

Run Lola Run

bizarre German film, defying norms with eccentric audio visual devices that I struggle to cement into plausible motifs.
Fate. Destiny. Purpose. I appreciate those notions only in the sense one would appreciate dragons and the nuances of the Force: voyages of high fantasy.
Reality diminishes films with its sincerity and realism. But like anything, the better you get it at the more you enjoy it. It's a beautiful place to dwell.
Escapism is a trait I don't seek in film very often nowadays, I have video games for that. Explore reality well and you'll have me hooked. It's too beautiful.
That being said, some facets glimmer more brightly in the light of such devices, but it's the real that shines in amongst the scatterings of narrative. I am too enchanted with my current state of naturalism to own notions of destiny. I am not special enough to find it so engrossing. No one is.
But they are oh so comforting, it is difficult to escape them in current circles without appearing to be the despairing cynic. The motif is ridiculous but only because it is too nice. And it's not nice if it's not real.


We studied language today, treated with the typography of Stephen Fry's pontifications on the subject. It served to reinforce a sentiment I struggle to succinctly express my gratitude for:
Words are beautiful, and English beautiful for that reason, despite it's bastard nature, its irreverent conventions and utter disrespect for norms boundaries. There is such utility in its paint brushes; spectrums of colour, tone, style and light. The opportunities it provides to erode our inferences and synchronize our experiences are limitless. The complexity of other sentience becomes realized! What a special privilege to be afforded, to have such capacity to empathize, and to ultimately understand.

But words need understanding before appreciation, as with all things. But they lack the impact of other mediums, the instant transformation of music, the teleportation that is a painted masterpiece. I wish I could supplement my expressions accordingly. It might make me more accessible.

That's enough for now. It's weird ramblings too, but that's okay. The meanings might be harder to decipher but they are more complete in their burrows, and it takes me far less effort to leave them there.

I need to write a book.