Between Incredible and Remarkable
Wherein all the stars go out, for safety's sake...
Between Incredible and Remarkable
grumble!
In places theoretical (the word) struggles where metaphorical would serve, I am wondering why theory might be a metaphor, when I have a moment's distraction as conversation Struggle and Serve (as my words) ask to, have.
Thank you for exploring this for me. I think I see theory as a two-way street where metaphor I see as a one-way. And I guess I am just ...what, "partial"(?) to one-way streets? I like when light isn't hitting itself. When it can just go and go. When light has to go and come back, it feels like ...well, "putrifation" is strong, but "fermenting" doesn't really serve either.
Like, take the Oort Cloud. Carefully melt it into a thin membrane around the heliopause. Outer space's no longer mostly empty - it's mostly full. (Light becomes a two-way street - a theory.) There's no more places for comets to be born from, to sweep the surface of sun and care for and write letter to the planets of his ward. That's fucked up! I don't like it!
Forward is Away
I like one-way streets - metaphors - I like the light of the sun to be able to go and go, and only occasionally strike a bit of ice and come back and hang out on this notebook with the other energy here. I like conversation one-way communication provides.
I don't want this context. I like metaphor. I don't like theory. It's a preference. It's my preference.
A phrase that only came to me this moon has been moving me to speak and pause. Currently, I know it as: in-one-eye, out-the-other. But essentially it states I am being eroded softly by a unidirectional force (call it love, call it science, call it perception, chemistry), it's my perspective.
I don't know what I'm doing with it. You're looking at a crow with a stick in their beak she flew in with and perched on the dead standing outside your window. Rotating it, rotating it. (I'm the crow.) This is just what is working for me. That's all I can say.
Some Context
I live in a context where turns into oncoming traffic see pedestrians have to look both ways before crossing or suffer the consequences of their lapse in memory; this context I live under would tell me to beat my own heart if it could. To blink my own eyes. I don't want to remember to do all that! I like my quiet fire understanding.
I am advocating to not have my sinoatrial node of a conversation swapped out for something I have to look both ways before I send a pulse. That imposed hypervigilence is annoying to see on approach. I don't like it in view. I want to be able to move forward, knowing:
- if something like that is not in view
- then it's behind me and I'm moving away from it
I Want Out
I don't want to be a heart-beater.
I don't want to be a rib cage either. I can be. (If it's an imperative, I'll be the damn rib cage, I don't care.) But I want to just be someone's stim. Something adored, sought after, found attractive. I want to be a stick a crow fancies. But I'll be a rib, if that's the closest you got.
Here I am, protecting Quiet Fire. All personal modes are safe in the heart of their process. Each rhythm its own message, each vibration ecology on ecology. The sound of sniffling and the sound of sweeping and the sound of comet passing over star surface one sound. So pretty, aren't they happy.
Complete Fragment
...
Why do I have to protect this? What the hell is threatening this? How did it come to me being out here fiddling with things I don't understand trying to set true something that is unquestioningly satisfying? Stims don't need justification.
What is my context out to do - ask crow about the stick? Shame crow for failing her utility? The ask's disgusting! i have to set words true against the threat of "what's its job"? Why is that charge present? To tend that ask's unwarrented, unreasonable, unjustifiable, and un... unkind!
There! Protected. Can I go now?