Rain

The other night coming back, from china town with some friends, it began to rain. It was mildly chilly outside, not very cold, but cold enough for you to feel it: a refreshing cold. we made our way to the bus stop, my friends ran ahead to escape the rain. For some reason or another i felt glad to walk though the rain, and almost a little disappointed the bus stop had a roof. The onslaught of water pellets hitting me did not seem malicious to me.

well, soon we reached to stop. no more rain, the onslaught is blocked perfectly by a curved roof. standing in the shelter I saw the rain in the light of the streetlights. It was pouring at such beautiful slant. A beautiful sight indeed. But a buetiffull sight was not good enough for me, I wanted more, I wanted a beutifull feel, a beautiful sensation. And with this want to feel came a want to walk out of the shelter into the rain. And so all of the sudden an overwhelming desire came over me, but at the same moment a few thoughts and rationalizations came to me. " if i walk out there i will get extremely wet and cold( for it was quite cold) and so while it might feel nice for a while soon you will be cold and miserable, and then on the bus with air conditions even colder and more miserable, on top of that i might get sick, i should not do this." and it was true i should not have done it.

First I walked to the edge of the shelter, peering out. Then I walked out and back in a few times. Indecisiveness. terrible indecisiveness. And then it hit me all at once, I WANT to do this. I have a strong desire. That is not something to be taken lightly.  Such a desire and situation is a rare thing, a thing to be cherished. And so it was decided. I walked straight out into the rain...

And ah. ah i was right. It felt beautiful. I was in awe. Standing still did not feel right so i began to pace. my god all the little things, on the ground. on the ground was the refection of a streetlight on a thin layer of water, but further, the rain was falling on it. The rain caused the light to spring out, sparking and shouting. and while my attention was caught on this the onslaught continued. Gradations of cold all over my body. The beat of the water pelting down on me. Such beauty, and not just beauty of sight, but beauty of feeling. Touch was not the only extra sense, I could also taste and smell the rain and hear the rushing of the wind.
So there i was hands in my pocket, in the rain, steering at the ground. come to think of it it probably looked like I was sad and/or depressed. But just the opposite was true. Joy and beauty.
in some time i lift my head and see...colors. All i see is circles and blurs of yellow, white and red. my glasses are covered in water producing an amazing effect coupled with the streetlights. The color were not random either, above was yellow, bellow white and in the periphery a few reds and the black of the night. and all the while the onslaught continues. Some time later i look straight up at the sky. I can the the rain drops as the fall flying down. and beyond that back and gray cloudy sky. the pellets now hit my face directly. they are harsh but at the same time somehow soft and inviting. And so I paced back and forth enjoying every aspect of the rain for the 45 minutes it took for us to find a way home.
At one point a friend tried to stop me and pull me inside. Suffice to say I resisted and wold have fought to the death to protect my experience, my joy, my beautiful feeling.   


Thinking back on this, I believe it was a manifestation of things to come. A representation of an important aspect of life. A lesson. So, it would be safe to say, I have decided to walk out into the rain whenever an opportunity arises.

titles

Titles, oh titles. if i ever start a post there it is title, a few letter and a space. such a constricting thing. once a title is given a subject is given and well then what. if i am coming here to speak my thoughts the title destroys all. or in this specific case takes over completely. TITLES TITLES TITLES(Ferdydurke). now that's a title. meaningless. a word with no meaning. meaninglessness, nothingness, nothing. nothing does not exist. it can exist in the context of something else as an idea, but that is something else entirely.
THE EMPTY SET.
nothingness in math.
also the only singularity. the only concrete concept i have found which represents something that exists in isolation. But still there is no isolation for it is encompace(dear god i cant spell, not even spell check can hep me) in the scheme of thought which is math. it necessarily exists with the construct which is math.
Everything is connected, relationships is the substance of existence.
This reminds me of a conversation with a friend about music. There he remarked that i strive for connection. well fuck yea i do. ( ah music, ah the beauty). this freind on mine argued that music existed in isolation.(beauty, such a great word. i searched for a word, in spansh with the same meaning. the closest i found was bella. but even that doesn't do beauty justice. i wonder if it exist in other languages. or maybe this is all in my head. i have given the word beauty special significance since every time i am faced with the beautiful the word comes to mind. ah beauty. turns out i am a real aesthetic. beauty is all. but all is not beauty. b=a but a=/=b. i wonder if there is a math term for set in which such cases exist. ) he looked at beauty like math, like a construct, a beautiful construct,a glimpse of order in a world of chaos. music then according to him is sperate , isolated from life. I say fuck that (to each his own and his view my well be valid from some reference framess) music is inimitably related to life. It is life expressed in the most direct affect oriented way. when you( ans by you i mean I)   Listen to music you don't simple pick apart various structures and whatnot. No. you directly fell the emotion of every key. The emotion, the raw meaning, the artist is conveying. And yes, you sense the beauty, but it is not the beauty of a cold structure, of some neat order found. It is the beauty of life. of life. of life.( la la la la la  la la la la ) not to put down the love of order ( to each his own right).
So music is connected to life by the artist. by its representation of life. as is the point of all art.
Anyways this is all just the rambling of a fool. who knows not what he says.
(And theres a river made of light
who asked you?
who asked you if you wanted to be loved by me?
...
bah whats the use.
fuck use.
what the affect?
whats the misuse of words?
This)

jumping in

It is 9 pm. I am here sitting at my computer. listening to some music. Staring at the screen, not really doing anything. But all that's unimportant. The Point is I have an overwhelming urge to go the beach. to walk down my cool, open, Miami streets to the beach. and just jump in. jump in to that clear, dark water. jump in to that feeling. surrounded. floating. swimming. moving. yet still. breathing. The air, the salt filled air. looking at that sky. at that dark, yet light, grey, cloudy clear sky. the horizon. getting farther away. farther out.
The water is colder. fresher. Life affirming. floating now. unknown, beneath, know above. well more like unseen beneath seen above. A real feeling of... well I cant describe it.

Anyways I am waiting for Adam to get back. Plan on asking him if he wants to come. he probably will say no. But who knows. I hope I have the will to go either way. Heres to hope.

I hate tetis

Actually I do not hate tetris, I think it is a fine game. No better than fine. A brilliant game. A game of amazing simplicity and amazing playablility and entertainment. And I am really fucking good at it. No I do not hate tetris. I hate myself for playing tetris. So, I have decided to stop. I have never understood hating oneself. I always heard people saying they hated themselves for this and that reason, blah blah blah. I never understood( I mean I have always hated my voice, but that is minor, and generally I forget about it) and always thought to myself 'I don't believe it, it is impossible to hate yourself'. Now I believe I understand, at least somewhat. Now the question is why do I hate myself for playing Tetris and why have I decided to write a blog. Well I figured everytime I get the impulse to play tetris I will write on the blog.( I realize my thoughts are quite jumbled and scattered and I apologize to any readers for the terrible style. Also I decided whenever I take a tangent from the main theme of the post I will do so in parenthesis. I like tangents. I think in tangents . And I like parenthesis. But, do I even want readers? I don't know. On the one hand no, in many ways I would rather noone read this. On the other hand I don't see the point of writing in a journal to yourself. If you write, it is because you must express yourself and expressing yourself to the void is the same as not expressing yourself. So, I suppose it is important that readers are possible even though I would rather not have any. Now where was I). But why is a blog better than playing tetris. I suppose it has to do with the reasons I play tetris.

I play tetris normally to listen to music and to think. The game requires almost no thought whatsoever so it lets my mind roam while at the same time giving me something to do with my hands and look at with my eyes. Sort of a 'I need to occupy all my senses' kind of thing. In writing a blog , I can do the same, I occupy my sense of touch and sight by typing, I have free reign to think for that's the whole point of writing, to write down my thoughts. On top of that I produce something. Something digitally tangible. And production is a beautiful thing. As to why a blog and not just a journal or a fb note. well that has to do with me not wanting readers and wanting readability(see parenthesis above).

But wait I still have not answered the pressing question of why I hate my myself for playing tetris. If anything I have given arguments as to why I shouldn't hate myself for it: I am ridiculously good at it and I play it so as to let my thoughts wander. I suppose there are two reasons. First off lets take a moment to look at it from the view of an outside observer. Just picture it: For hours on end I am sitting in a chair, not moving at all except for my fingers, staring blankly at a computer screen so as to destroy rows of blocks.(hmm, the thought just occurred to me, should I edit these posts? Obviously I should edit for spelling and some grammar. But should I rewrite or wholly delete entire sections as I read over it before posting. I think ill play it by ear.) Now if that is not the biggest waste of time possibly imaginable, I don't know what is. Still, this reason is unsatisfactory for that is only appearances, the reality of the situation being quite different. Which brings me to the second reason. I will not say the second reason. I do not want to admit the second reason to myself and I sure as hell wont write it down here. It can easily be misinterpreted and I misinterpret it myself sometimes. All I can say is its a powerful reason albeit not founded on sound logic.

Suffice to say I don't want to do an activity for which I hate myself, so now I have a blog. A place to ramble. I like rambling. Lets see how long this lasts.