It is almost a New Year and people will tell you that this is a big deal.
“You gotta party on New Years,” they will say, or “you gotta ring in the new year,” or the dreaded “we gotta go hard”, and all they mean is a couple of things. Party—crowded room decorated in silver streamers. Sparkly…
I’ve just started my latest endeavor. It’s a process blog, or at least that’s what I’m calling it. It’s an excuse to create/design/whatever. I’ll still be posting most things here, but the new blog is more like organized chaos. It’s pretty bare now but it should start coming to life in the next few days/weeks.
“Well, my teachers, they built this retaining wall of memory,
all those multiple choices I answered so quickly.
And got my grades back and forgot just as easily,
but as least I got an A.
And so I don’t have them to blame.”—Bright Eyes - Let’s Not Shit Ourselves (to Love and to Be Loved)
"Video Games" by Lana del Rey. I feel like every time I listen to this song I get a different impression. If listened to straight through it has one meaning, but the places with emphasis and pause can change things completely. I love this song so much and I can see the style being applied to any kind of medium. I always love art that can quickly shift meaning depending on one’s perspective.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn’t how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn’t happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
"The Boy’s Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always."