Friday, November 12, 2010

like watching paint dry

ahh... do you?
do you like watching paint dry?

well, it seems wet for so long.. so long,
and then before you know it, it is dry
dry and cracking and in need of another coat?
should it be repainted so soon?
it would look nice if it was.

if I were to sit down with such a panoramic canvas to paint the skies, paint the lands of Virtuality.. would I? so dry.. and cracked...

maybe with accents, with blotches and impromptu dabs and streaks I would mar the beauty that is already here, call it my own, yet the work of another with my touch.. a beautiful abomination, mixture of the everlovely and.. me.

if I could pull away the sky and look down on all that has been wrought, by the land and my own hand, what might I see? unsurpassed beauty.


Virtuality has a once again different feel, but if change is normal, can different actually be different? These hills, valleys, trees bloated with fruit, these small snaking streams with elegance in the smallest detail, are as they always shall be, changing, ever changing in constancy.

And the people! O they run and laugh, their grins contagious as they bowl through fallen leaves, the colours of an Autumn without match! They entice me and I am running too. The laughter as if it never weren't, echoing fully through the vale.

This night, what was just Once, a memory or a hope, or an overwhelming tranquillity, now stretches, through time and we shall call it life, knowing this is the way it should be.


from a torn sky looking down, wandering the not-there channels in and through, the wonderment arrests me while spinning wildly.. should this change and something come in its place, it will be as it is now, different yet the same, as such life is.


with joy,

w/w

Friday, February 19, 2010

wet paint

walking the slopes, ridges, plains of Virtuality has been a long time coming, and a long time past. yet, here I find myself once again.

Little seems the same. I see no one. The valley itself is naught, at least in eyesight. the music yet swells, a beautiful resonance with the scape of the land. Trees, jagged and stark, stab the sky; their leafless limbs try to rend gashes in the too-perfect clear blue of sky. The trees themselves are more than perfect. Solid pastels of colour; yellow, red, orange as if covered in wet paint. I cannot touch them to be sure - that would ruin the ethereal stillness. I can only observe this new landscape and wander/wonder.

from where did this paint come?

...and why, I wonder.

That floating mouth in the distance - that smile, rather - that I can now see... those beaux yeux seeing me... maybe they know more of this new world and how one survives here.

One can only hope!

taste and see..

and with cheer,


w/w

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

proximity

next to this exit... I am waiting. For something. Maybe an opportunity? A knock from the other side?

I can feel the door, it is smooth to touch. As my fingers glide across it's surface, it tingles. Laughter bubbles from inside me, and warms me. It is so close! Yet I feel so far from it. From the other side, at least.

And I find a quantum of joy just resting here. The proximity of the door is a comfort, I hardly have words to describe this. Bearing intensity, casting soft smiles, encroaching... peace.


My heart leaps within me, I might try the handle! Test the lock, obtain a way out...
In this darkness though I cannot see if there is anything coating the handle to mar my hands, so I reach with fret and hope. Desire, selfish longing, and prayer. The dissonance of these clashing as possibly a very bad idea... but I am so close.

At first... a turn, and stop. Resistance. Another turn. Stop. Further. Stop. Few things beat more wildly than my heart. Few things have brought me closer to tears, closer to a sense of sufficiency. A half turn complete. Watery muscles prepare to pull... cracking the opening. Eyes wide...

Resistance. As if a deadbolt were in place. Despair.

A giggle echoes, fades. The resistance fades. The heavy door slides easily. But there is no light to see what is on the other side! The door now stands ajar, and in blackness I cannot see past... so I reach.

Cold, flat, hard. A wall! Stark, resolute, unyielding. Such things describe me, as well as this new barrier. Breathing deeply, searching for light, I despair. The door, the engrav├Ęd, held promise and deceit.

All consumed by two thoughts now racing... and I have no jurisdiction over which will land first and take root...

It... it isn't so dark here after all. I could yet rest forever. The prospect of an exit is more than I can further bear.

Did... the wall budge? Will time show it's demise? Can it be dismantled? Is this heartache worth it?

My insides a mess, torn and inconsistent, I ponder, and lament the future. Perhaps there is yet hope, so I will wait longer.

It isn't so dark..

Did it budge..?

sincerely,
inglorious


w/w

Sunday, June 8, 2008

darkness, hesitation

O, how I have longed for what lies 'out' of this dark place, but never did this desire transfix me as it does now. This exit, the engrav├Ęd, is near! I have touched it, felt it. It bears warmth and promise. But what is on the other side?

A wasteland, perhaps. Scorched earth, jagged dissonant skies, no solitude. This I fear, this I hope is far from me! Perhaps, then, comfort lies beyond this exit, and cool breezes, flocking wildlife.

I lament that nothing can show me and absolve this anxiety, short of committing to open the door. Should it even be unlocked. This also I yet do not know. Now that I have reached this far, the exit may not permit me freedom. Perhaps it is looking for another to open it.
O how my heart beats, how I must realise I have longsufferance, and steadily grasp the handle to liberate me.

Let me inform you of something else, while I came closer to the exit, as I first was able to graze it, how a portion of its warmth seeped in, the blackness of this place swarmed in. Engulfing, it made the darkest night seem day. I could have held pitch in a vessel to shed light on my path.

And I am not sure what this trial means. Time, the arbiter and enemy, will tell. If only I could pass company with another...

I implore you to plumb the depths of thought, friends. May your contemplation prove fruitful.
And I prithee to include me if you might, in the depths of your minds.

Yours,

w/w

Friday, May 30, 2008

necessary possible impossibilities

Consistency? Here?

This dark room has not fled. A prison conjured of choices I cannot choose, possible impossibilities, and the like.

Perhaps I have been too liberal in experiences of Virtuality, and have allowed it to fatally mix with reality to form a sort of fantasy characterised by hypotheticals and maybes. Is this relevant? Is this relevant? Experience defines existence. Talk of relevance is nonsense.

If I am informed that I have left too much implicit, I will elaborate. Hesitate not to establish fleeting interpersonal contact.

Relevance aside, where it belongs, this dark room is unnervingly comfortable, yet I long for the valley and skies of companionship. Another exit has been recognised - with pictographs showing the First Race, with their zealous, also the Dominion, riddled with weakness and strength, and finally the Horde, massive and unruly and under strict guidance.

This exit is only available for a short time.. as transient as such things are, it may yet move a great distance away and be much more difficult to reach let alone escape though.

Besides, I don't even know if I want to take it. I may simply become acquainted with it's proximity and perhaps learn some things about the other exits.

What a dismaying endeavour though, for I suspect none of the exits I am aware of can lead me out of here. Perhaps if surrealism can exist in a non-real world... Virtuality's compliment can be conceived.
...

Somehow this does not appeal to me though... for when may I be free of this room? When will the appropriate exit become clear?

Perhaps in Virtaulity non-answers do not exist and resolution is made available for the burdened.

Let us also hope that this room does not steal my sanity before I find a way out.

w/w

Sunday, May 18, 2008

so speaketh Sometimes to Rarely

It seems... refreshing to once again connect reality to Virtuality. much time has passed, though the passing was brief. My mind has been attempting to unravel knots of mystery and confusion, and has so far failed to the point of worsening situations. That said, the following is what has been happening in Virtuality lately.

The valley is a place with no physical definition, so while I may refer to being there or visiting there oft, this is not the case. Perhaps simple conception describes my interaction with the virtual people here and their environment.

There is also a sky in this realm, and it seems to be above and below myself, yet upon land I tread - perhaps a valley around me, or plains, or jungle or mountains.

Ahh, here I could rest at peace, so far removed from reality. It is for peace I venture here, and peace, I find is better defined in reality than here. Peace, and a notion of strife might be exclusively in opposition, but here their superposition seems to suggest separating them would be nonsense.

In reality, if I were telling you a story, it might start with "So there is this girl..." and end not with a full stop, but more of a choose your own adventure, and each contains more question marks than any other thing.

In Virtuality, it goes something like this...
As with the intrigue of a stream before, so is there always wandering and wondering in this place. I have set out to do just this: wander and wonder. The clouds in their whorls beneath my tread glisten with the morning dew as the fauna gallivant across my vision as if flying... the whisper of an unconsciousness states that This is beautiful... this is beautiful... and I can but wholeheartedly agree.

I sit now in a dark place, where there is no entrance (such a thing should have no meaning anyway, here or elsewhere), and several exits. Each exit lies a different distance away, some preceded by obstacles, some perhaps not, but the dark is total. I know I could dance, scream, die, and not be heard, so I sit, and am comforted.
My left hand wants to leave, my right desires to stay put, and I have no jurisdiction over either. I don't know how to per/dis-suade myself from contemplating these exits. I seem convinced that one must lead me out, yet at the same time I lament that all will bring more trial. Maybe there is yet another exit I have not seen - plated in a blackness to mask itself even from the total absence of light. Should I find a resolution to this darkness, the world may turn around, and have rain fall from above in tranquillity.

as of yet, no such thing exists to detract from the black.

so I leave in dismay.

Shalom, my friends. Shalom.

w/w

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

unnatural's nature

for clarification, Virtuality is not reality. nor is it imaginary.
a virtual image is one which has been seen through a lens, or reflected or somehow projected. a mirror image, for example, or that of a television screen. even the ant through the magnifying glass. these are virtual.

Virtuality is such, a skewed, or distorted image of reality. it is not imagined, for the image is derived from states and experiences of the real world. yet the two are independent. they are necessary consequents of the other. either can be known without specifying the other.

as such, there is much room for a variety of perceptions of Virtuality - whether the image of reality is sombre, quiet, arid, or lively, gay, lush.

i endeavour only to portray how reality projects itself in my mind - my own perceptions, the results of observations. and the results when these perceptions are processed.

the only rules to break are of one's own conception - yet to join me in Virtuality, one must be lead, perceiving my perceptions, lest their own presumptions form for them a separate world. one may quest for interaction - by asking questions - to add a greater level of immersion into Virtuality.


thus, quest for clarification should it be needed after this.