Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Quixotic Quotable II: Assortment of Thoughts Juxtaposed to Entrancing Images


Hidetora: I am lost...
Kyoami: Such is the human condition.
(Ran, Akira Kurosawa 1987)

Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed of a sudden with supernatural powers and passed like a spirit through the barrier before me. The drive wound away in front of me, twisting and turning as it had always done. But as I advanced, I was aware that a change had come upon it. Nature had come into her own again and little by little had encroached upon the drive with long tenacious fingers, on and on the poor thread that had once been our drive. And finally, there was Manderley, Manderley, secretive and silent. Time could not mar the perfect symmetry of those walls. (Mrs. DeWinter, Rebecca 1940)


Quién escribe tu nombre con letras de humo entre las estrellas del sur?
Ah déjame recordarte cómo eras entonces, cuando aún no existías.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
(Pablo Neruda, 1924)

He knew she was there by the joy and fear that overwhelmed his heart.
(Anna Karenna, Tolstoy, 1877)

Loyualte me lie
Loyalty Bind Me
(Richard III)





Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Recurring Dreams: New York, Date Unspecified

I always seem to be half asleep or half awake; but whichever state takes over, it soon breaks me into a panic as I take the first breath. I was at that club again. The one that I always find myself staring off into the distance to find. Across endless rooftops and lines of hung laundry off of indistinctive billboards.
The moon is always a dim red, and unbeknownst to my vision- its as if the world is an endless city where no traveler could cross. 
 I never know how I get there, nor do I know why I always end up snapping out of it just as a table of people I know have recently departed.
My drink is usually down to the dredges, and there is always a spill on the table. 
Its like I had been drunk, but as I run through the few contemplative thoughts that I have- it seems unlikely. 
A waitress comes by asking if I need another.
As she wipes the table down I tell her that I am fine with just the one, to which she gives a cockeyed glare as if I had been previously rude to her. 
Its strange that I can't remember.
The room is full of strangers: blending into the tables and walls like shadowy apparitions. 
She leaves instantly and I sense a sudden chill from her absence. 
I pull my blazer tightly around my torso and turn towards the bathroom.
For as many occupants that are within the room, it seems as though I barely pass a soul as I cross over the floor.
I make it to the bathroom underneath a crackling exit sign and make roost upon the countertop. 
There is a water fall where I suppose patrons wash their hands, and illumination "pods" that barely focus enough light to see your hand in front of your face. I suppose the integration of modern architecture is beyond me, for I can't see the purpose in creating such a dim restroom experience.
I peer along the counter top, it all looks brand new.
I splash a bit of the water on my face and reach into my pocket for my phone. To my surprise I pull out an icy cube of what once was my device. I drop it on the counter and attempt to turn it on- to little success.
I see the water droplets being to form into ice crystals as the room drops 50 degrees in mere seconds. 
Snow begins to pour out of the vents like smoke.
The lights ice over into tiny frozen globes.
Everything around me has become different and I can't contemplate just how it has  happened.
Its probably shock hitting me.
That or a numbness that is slowly hitting my heart. 
Clutching my coat I slip back onto the wall- gripping onto the frame of the corner. 
I yell out but I feel a hoarseness take over my speech. 
Pushing myself back towards the mirror I take ahold of the double sinks for balance. 
Along the middle of the mirror is a slight hairline crack which draws my eyes to its surface. 
I cannot help but raise my hand, carefully and precisely to align my finger with its state. 
With precision I brush my index finger onto it.
And then it happens...
The crack splinters- growing and growing and growing larger still.
Its dimensions begin spiraling faster than I can see.
I throw myself back from it and attempt to run for the door; but it is altogether too late.
In a flurry of glass a rupturing tsunami of shards pound across my body, and it in mere seconds cuts me from head to toe. Like a digital deconstruction I feel every molecule separate and reform as I slink into a pile of glass.
It is dark... But then...
I see a light forming, beyond the glass as she appears.
One like which I have never seen, and one which this world has barely begun to know.
It is magnificent and beautiful; but fiery like the sun and more terrible than all of the beasts of the earth.
It is frightening that one so powerful could be seen by mortal eyes, and I attempt to look away; but cannot.
Sinking into the glass I feel as though I am caught in sand.
The world is moving forward and yet I am becoming lost in this moment.
I reach for her.
She senses my terror and with a wave of her hand she shows me her intentions.
Her actions are so brilliant and warm that it melts away the icicle pods, and the snowy drifts, and barrels into the room like a phoenix taking flight. I am all but covered by the glassy prison, and yet with her soft touch I feel it pass away to dust. And then everything goes blank.

 It blows away and all around the room shifts and shapes its way into a mountaintop overlooking the city. 
I am on hands and knees- and I feel the weight of something undefinable. The chill has returned but not quite so strongly, and I see in my hands the truth.
A newspapers states I died that night and somehow she brought me back.
She brought me back; but not without a price.
Not without a sacrifice.