dimanche 26 septembre 2004

They call it 'reality bleed' So you too feel it coming. In speaking of it, your gaze on the dead sky, you wing me from glade to Ring, from touching wood to touchstone. "Be patient," breathes the rock king. "Watch still. Wait still. Be still." To find the Ring, you must cross the burial ground; better to fly, safer to shape shift, suit form to fit autumn, winter, spring, highest summer, each in its instant: best leave no tracks. To brush a single spearhead in the grass, one blade alone, would be to send a message swifter than sudden thought coursing down through root and earth, down to life beneath the mound, down through resonating rock. Nobody should touch the clock. The sleepers here must not be roused ahead of time. You have no map, but you alone could go into the passage wrought with that breath you caught, eyeing the rumour of winter's coming -- cloud without cracks... Old and sick, she wanted food. You asked about your fruit, the birth of a gift in mind, a sound idea, hesitating... I brood a while when you are gone: "She has a generous heart. Has she the art to solve a riddle locked in rhyme?" The notion of "reality bleed" intrigues me -- a theme of 'eXistenZ' -- but it alarms me when it starts happening deep in the garden. "Stop it," I tell myself, "don't break the rules." Oh, but it's so very hard. Each time I see you, especially in places that must remain walled out of here, the joy in it gives me the strength of deceit and dissimulation, but there's no hiding from myself... So the garden grows, seeded by that joy, warmed by simple pleasures, watered by every storm sparked by the quick stab of sorrow that comes with each farewell. Will it ever get any easier, Ellie ...... my forever love? How can I make it so? The sadness evaporates soon enough. But not the rest. Especially now I'm sure you share the fear I have of the lead heaviness of skies so unlike those of which you told me. I don't expect you to answer such questions; you're an expert in the silence of the things we should not say! But dare I, who talk too much already, hope that part of what this game's about is helping each other find our answers in the only place we'll find them? Ourselves. Enough of that. I've come to need this place, often well away from your flight path, a quiet space to write down the thoughts and fancies that I can't allow my heart to voice when I work and talk and walk the streets with you. Today, after all, is no day for such a stroll; your time was already set to be busy and you're best off with your other friends, so I changed my mind. I think, too, that my brief visit tonight is best spent readying the garden for the cold months. If "reality bleed" means anything, it means there'll be little time to tend the plants in the weeks to come. That, perhaps, is a change for the better! I shan't name the artists here. To do so is to invite intruders. But I can say that the last one invites us to dance the autumn. 6:55:54 PM    your views? []

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