Fall Short Glamour|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in
For Fear Of Complacency's LiveJournal:
|Wednesday, January 26th, 2005|
Three nights ago at approximately 3:47am, I saw images in my sleep, the source of which lingered in my room for a moment as I woke from it. I felt it brush against my back as if leaving me to fetch a drink of water or snack. It was cold, I was cold. Upon falling back into sleep, it returned and attempted to conclude itself. It was less of a dream and more of a venture as I felt guided by my choices....
Round heads, round faces, round eyes...almost perfect symmetry. Slightly elongated spherical mouths with small teeth spaced a bit irregularly. Hanging, sitting, lying around my old house at random (the house where I spent my childhood), the sight of them was not nearly as disturbing as were the underlying feelings of panic and confusion. In fact the sight of them was rather interesting until....I was descending (I'm always descending in my dreams) into a vast body of water. Possibly lake or pond but most likely an unidentifiable sea or ocean. Buried in the water was a sleeper (small in stature with the same round facial features). His/her eyes were closed, a lock was around his/her neck which rose and fell steadily with relaxed (almost restrained) breathing. If I saw the eyes when they opened it was for a millisecond if at all because I instantly sank deeply into them. This was during the course of my second image sequence with this same theme. Again, as I started awake it all lingered with me and I realized that I had willingly explored those things rather than simply happened upon them on chance. It was the second most disturbing dream I've had in my life...the other was a recurring nightmare during my childhood, the images of which can't really be described although I can remember them vividly
|Thursday, November 25th, 2004|
The Argonaut and the Witch
Come sit with me, dear Argonaut, come sit and dwell with me in the house that Morpheus, dear Morpheus, hath prepaired for us this eve. Come sit and dwell with me in those old ruins and shadowlands we once knew in our former lives.
Tell me, dear Argonaut, those lies I so need to hear, lies and hopes I fuel into thee as thou dwelleth here in this shelter.
I hath conjured thee, dear Argonaut, thou own Medea to summon thee here into my presence. Come and sit and sing those songs we shared once before, those old songs we sang. The durges and ballads and sonnets all true.
Morpheus hath given us this night to share, to partake of this bloodswapping between old ghosts.
We are not real, but of the shadows we once inhabited together. That brief moment in time, now gone from us. I will lay me down and become that see that thou so lovest, that thou would never stray from me, that I shalt know where thou art when thou are needed.
But those days are long gone and Wynter hath fallen and soon Apollo shall riseth. Make hast now, lest the light scorch our phantom forms.
|Saturday, November 6th, 2004|
Waiting for Edea
....Sometime later, much later, he walked up the old road that lead to her house. It had been so long since he had traveled that route, so long since he had returned to the old city, now gray and windless.
He walked up to the door, the brick house sighing in desperation. No visitors has approached that door in ages, and his presence was noted only by the gathering of shadows beneath his feet.
He knew it before he knocked: she was gone.
She had left before the storm broke. He remembered getting her letters, scrawled in haste and desperate teeage panic, begging him to join her.
The exodus has taken everyone. The rains had washed away everyone else. He was all that was left. He was all that was left of her. He was all.
There was nothing else in the city. The subterrainian dwellings were closed off. The stone stairs she ascended were known only to her. The waters had wash out all the paths and roads, the geography was completely new. He had no oher option.
He sat down before her door and turned hishead upeards to the low sky....
|Friday, November 5th, 2004|
Stood to my feet: give space for shuffling
...it was the type of cliched over-emotionalized garbage that you can read in any cheaply compiled poetry anthology. you know, the insidious waste that seems to breed on such faux coffe tables as are found furnishing modern medical offices (apparently with the intent to offer some sickening form of comfort to already ailing individuals). nevertheless, he continued this treacherous attack on skill and refinement. his pencil scratched out every all-too-well placed word into formulaic sentences and arranged the lines in such a way as to provide for maximum succor to the eyes and cerebral functions in order to balance out the slight amount of dischord necessitated by the constraints of current cultural preferences...he liked it he did! probably, he thought, it was a good exercise in restraint for his immoderately brandished abberancies which he'd come to realize as of late, often fettered his desired affluence...
...once, i decided to sit in a single position until something came to me. the minutes added up to hours rolling along into days amassing in weeks compiled in these giant months ALL constituents of several years time and on and on...three moments later it all broke loose like Great-Lakes thunder squalls sweeping across the water and lambasting me with such bludgeoning force: don't wait, just go when you feel called to. go with it and it'll take you where you need to be. there's always time for revision, rewriting, retracing, and the other evils necessitated by such and such a rule or law. so after these years of paralysis in fishing for symbols to place side-by-side in order to devise some method of communicating something, i brushed aside whatever there was to brush aside after years of sitting and began to walk...i stood to my feet and walked because i was called. Current Mood: mellow
|Thursday, November 4th, 2004|
The Fourth of His Life
...the street shone wet beneath the lights as unfettered branches and stubborn leaves pounded out a crude type of morse code on the already flickering lamps. a quick glance at the sky revealed the location of the full moon, slightly visible through only partially opaque cloudcover. the temperature had dropped considerably within two days time and the air had changed from october to november (along with the time), literally overnight. the cracking of a window reavealed the persistent sounds of dripping water and rustling dead material...
...the daylight had revealed what was beginning to resemble a digital photograph converted to grayscale tones, or at least sponged of a fair amount of its color. red had somehow become less red, blue had lost a bit of its splendor. browns, whites, and grays had become the prominent hues, speckled here and there with a lingering orange or yellow. november had arrived in the state of indiana, just in time to replace october as he grabbed his coat, clocked out and hurried away into retirement for another three hundred and thirty four days. we had been racing, only two days before, across open sun-drenched plains, enjoying the fifty mile per hour wind gusts...now the wind served only as a vehicle on which forty degree raindrops spun out of control before careening and crashing through the fabric of our tightly drawn collars... Current Mood: content
|Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004|
Those Far Pavillions....
The storm clouds rushed in, they ran with the black shrouds trailing behind us in the winds. They sought the refuge of some subterranian dwelling, some hidden dark labyrinth deep in the core. Some place safe and secret inside. There they lived untill the day the storm passed, untill the black clouds blew over, untill the whole world has passed and they were all that was left...
I had climbed a steep hill, leading high into the fog, leading me far away from the storm, the people, the undergound dwelling. I climbed those stone steps, and from the highest point I could see the whole land. I watch the storm blow in miles before it hit, I saw the people in black dwelling in the valley. I saw them flee under ground.
I turned my back to it all and climbed into the fog above, into some unknown and distant place beyond the storm.
Transcendence....Ascension....I turn my back on it all...
I live somewhere far away. I do not know where.... Current Mood: calm
|Monday, November 1st, 2004|
Thier really ins't a theme
its basically a place for people who like to write and talk about music and stuff
Dark powers harbored within the flooded ship of dreams,
Too many tears of lost faith have fallen on its deck.
It sinks now into powerful and unforgiving memory.
although the flag still waves above crashing tides to remind me...something’s are still ok,
And their are worse things they a view from the ocean bottom- no matter how jaded. So I smile, and I wave. And I explain with ease. Of course I went down with the ship. It’s simple Current Mood: jubilant
Not sure the theme.
The info snagged me.
So I write here, or try to learn how to again? It has been so long since those days.
All these layers now unfolding.
Open, and to what?
Unfurling wings, unfurling layers, the Buddah Lotus....The rotten Onion.
Where is Lao Tzu when you need him?
Where he is supposed to be, of course. Current Mood: apathetic
|Tuesday, August 3rd, 2004|
Kids of the winter
Yeah so i.. nobodys really updating in here but its all cool, music/ city of vanity check um out www.purevolume.com/cityofvanity.. besides that nothing
if thiers any good bands you think people should check out list um Current Mood: blank
|Tuesday, July 27th, 2004|
Pillage the Prestiged
hey yeah, i made a community cause im so special, and anyway, join if you want i don't care, yeah thats about it. later people Current Mood: complacent