In the midnight moonlight I'll, be walking the long and lonely mile // and every time I do, I keep seein' this picture of you
Alright here's the facts Jack: the place that lets me dock these sounds you hear, to all those who are welcome and to those that actuall do come here to peer onto the surface of the world through my specs, allows me 100 Megabytes of total bandwidth a day. So by maths that even I can perform, an average song of 3 MB multiplied by about 1 or so people I estimated that drop in here every 1-3 days this is no problem right? So banking this lovely song into the HQ tonight I see that somehow my bandwidth has been maxed like my credit card basically, so either somebody has a fever to which the only prescription is more Justin, or something is awry, I'll get on the case but I really hope you can have this song jingle through your speakers, I really think it's the bee's knees and as always, a part of the story.
Ever feel attacked by the places that you secretly keep/kept sacred with somebody in your heart after the flame has gone out? That was me the last few days; the "walk" after class, the table in the Subway, the bench in Birmingham in front of the 8 film theatre....and thinking of my fingerprint memories left on these places, I was a fool not to seek the strength/sanctuary of the single most pure and beautiful place on this earth to me, my church and shining star, my beloved Detroit Institute of Arts. You can just feel it as you climb the marble staircase and go through the doors, like an airlock sealing everything good inside as you breeze inside, so many ghosts of wonderful memories floating from room to room, so many things I've read and written and dreamed there. I would get married there if I could. It really does prove to me there is magic and beauty and that's just scratching the surface of the surface.
But I went Friday night, my notebook, 'Dinotopia', 'The DaVinci Code' and DIA folder all under arm like the good old days, and hey there is a sign for a special exhibit for the Dutch artist (can go wrong already, see my all time fav. artist Hieronymus Bosch who is Dutch) Gerard ter Borch from the 17th century. It was just glorious! I feel very very strongly about art, I know less that I make out I'm sure (as with everything else usually) in regards to the background and facts and symbols of paintings, but this artist is just wonderful because (thanks partially to the handheld "artphone" you get to tote around for your pleasure and educated guesses by historians placed to the side of some paintings in regards to symbolism and his life) I could totally place stories around each person within each perfectly painted scene, like there was this painting that was made to commerate a peace treaty and the way he paints each person with such graceful care you totally feel like you are in the room with like 30 separate and unique people. Or there was one where this man is stirring a lemon in a glass that a woman is holding and they both have the young love just screaming from their eyes and even the woman standing behind them can feel the same mood as you do. Or there was this painting of this woman whose reflection from this mirror is her thinking the deepest darkest secret about a guy ever thought. I must have stared at her dress for 5 minutes, not like a perv, but just because it was so amazingly painted, I could scan you a copy here but it would almost be like showing somebody a a postcard of the Eiffel tower after just seeing the real thing. It was like a cloud milkshake.
To see all these just wonderful paintings was so inspiring. Like from simple things you can create these dreams and moments and vision in your head and heart and they can affect people so long afterwards. I started writing again! And in my favourite room in the whole museum too, the now almost forgotten dining hall with the huge skylight and white lights in the trees all around. All sorts of fun thoughts were just going through me, like hey did you ever in elementary school have a parachute? And you would all stand in a big circle in the gym and raise it way up into the air and then all rush to the inside edge and hold it down over you all, the whole class hiding safely under this air inflated parachute. I haven't been as happy as that Friday night in a long time.
Ever feel attacked by the places that you secretly keep/kept sacred with somebody in your heart after the flame has gone out? That was me the last few days; the "walk" after class, the table in the Subway, the bench in Birmingham in front of the 8 film theatre....and thinking of my fingerprint memories left on these places, I was a fool not to seek the strength/sanctuary of the single most pure and beautiful place on this earth to me, my church and shining star, my beloved Detroit Institute of Arts. You can just feel it as you climb the marble staircase and go through the doors, like an airlock sealing everything good inside as you breeze inside, so many ghosts of wonderful memories floating from room to room, so many things I've read and written and dreamed there. I would get married there if I could. It really does prove to me there is magic and beauty and that's just scratching the surface of the surface.
But I went Friday night, my notebook, 'Dinotopia', 'The DaVinci Code' and DIA folder all under arm like the good old days, and hey there is a sign for a special exhibit for the Dutch artist (can go wrong already, see my all time fav. artist Hieronymus Bosch who is Dutch) Gerard ter Borch from the 17th century. It was just glorious! I feel very very strongly about art, I know less that I make out I'm sure (as with everything else usually) in regards to the background and facts and symbols of paintings, but this artist is just wonderful because (thanks partially to the handheld "artphone" you get to tote around for your pleasure and educated guesses by historians placed to the side of some paintings in regards to symbolism and his life) I could totally place stories around each person within each perfectly painted scene, like there was this painting that was made to commerate a peace treaty and the way he paints each person with such graceful care you totally feel like you are in the room with like 30 separate and unique people. Or there was one where this man is stirring a lemon in a glass that a woman is holding and they both have the young love just screaming from their eyes and even the woman standing behind them can feel the same mood as you do. Or there was this painting of this woman whose reflection from this mirror is her thinking the deepest darkest secret about a guy ever thought. I must have stared at her dress for 5 minutes, not like a perv, but just because it was so amazingly painted, I could scan you a copy here but it would almost be like showing somebody a a postcard of the Eiffel tower after just seeing the real thing. It was like a cloud milkshake.
To see all these just wonderful paintings was so inspiring. Like from simple things you can create these dreams and moments and vision in your head and heart and they can affect people so long afterwards. I started writing again! And in my favourite room in the whole museum too, the now almost forgotten dining hall with the huge skylight and white lights in the trees all around. All sorts of fun thoughts were just going through me, like hey did you ever in elementary school have a parachute? And you would all stand in a big circle in the gym and raise it way up into the air and then all rush to the inside edge and hold it down over you all, the whole class hiding safely under this air inflated parachute. I haven't been as happy as that Friday night in a long time.
posted by Healthy Obsession at 4:16 AM
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