Monday, February 19, 2024

Re: Memoirs

     There is some phenomenon that keeps occurring. There was a time I had went hiking nearby in I believe April of last year. Partly cloudy, sunset, perfect temperature. Drizzling, somewhat. I had been reflecting, thinking in deep thought internally. I was not sad or upset or angry, but I had been pondering. As the sun set, one of the brightest rainbows I had ever seen appeared behind me. The weather aligned with my emotions in some way. It had revived and rejuvenated my moods when I experienced this sunset-rainbow phenomenon.

    It happened again I think two months later. Sunset. Go for a walk outside. I felt down--this time it was melancholic, how I felt. I sat on some barrier about 5 minutes away and cried. Drizzling again. I turn around to go back home when... rainbow again. It felt dramatic. I literally ran back home to get my polaroid and I took a photo of it.

   When it happened, it did not feel like a coincidence. It felt like a sign, an omen. I had become emotional or deep in thought, and during sunset, good temperature, and light rain, then a rainbow. The closest thing I could call this is an act of God. I don't believe in God, but something about this made it feel like the only appropriate term.
    It happened a third time this past December, at work. Burnt out, feeling blue, need some air, go outside. Partly cloudy, had rained, only 2 hours until sunset, but there, rainbow. I am even more certain now it was God.
    Fourth time was today (Memoir III). I had wanted to go for a bike ride and have a cigarette and go out before the sun set, so I went to a nature trail down the street. It was a deep melancholy mood, walking in the rain at the river. It was raining heavily and I had my umbrella. Sepia and brown, the color palette of the sky and water and clouds. Rain, sunset, rainbow. I had turned around and gasped at the sight. It happened yet again. The rainbow quickly vanished afterwards.
    What's the connection between all of these events? My emotions are tied very heavily to the weather. Bad weather, bad mood. Sunshine, good mood. Windy, good mood too. I wanted to be a meteorologist too, when I was a kid. There's a link between me and climate. The elements. Fire too is cool to look or fuck around with, I guess? How often I write about clouds and the sky and light, and how often all I need is sunlight to feel better, and even now that I want to move to the desert to get more of it. That's all this can be about...


Nature Memoir III

 How these rapids so violently attack the trees. As the sun sets, a pale beige grades at the sun to stone gray on the opposite edge of the horizon. Thinly overcast, rain pouring. It compliments the speed of the current. The flood rose the banks of the river. Lush green on the hills, through the moss like dense earth carpet and ferns exploding out of the trees and soil.

Suddenly, the sunlight intensifies. Brighter, yet still pale. Coffee cream color. The river roars louder. As you listen, it is deafening. So pleasantly the water drowns--drowns out noise and clamoring of everything. Just as you see it, hear it, feel it, brighter still. Sepia. All becomes sepia. Golden gray. Milk chocolate colored water. White gold vegetation. 

And when you turn around, there it is. Breathless. A rainbow, the band of color arcing over the stone sky. The clouds break away just a patch of blue, a clearing, a hole in the sky. The rain thins. Yet just as quickly, the rainbow vanishes. If you had not turned, you would not have seen it. It all was so complete. Sacred. As the rainbow disappeared, everything in this moment finally drew to its close.

Thursday, February 15, 2024

Nature Memoir II

When you look up, what do you see? Haze diffuses the sun like a lampshade. In faint patches you can see just briefly the blue of the sky, yet it hangs high enough that the clouds float under them in the foreground. The wind is so still, how frozen in time the clouds become. Like snowflakes, how unique the tops of them puff out and upward, with each billow and roll and reach creating these definitive edges and shadows.

The bottoms of the clouds are so uniformly flat as if the knife of God had cleaved them off. And if you look hard enough, you can just barely see radiating swathes of light break brighter in the haze closest to the sun. And the one large bird who flies like a silent Icarus. A black triangle, bending and twisting. As you walk and stand, and stare, the passersby, how they don't seem to exist anymore. How you wish they were never visible at all. A passing glance towards you, a nod, a peculiar smile, and yet... you wish you were further away. Wandering in the meadow, with no soul to remove you or even slightly pull you from the sky immersion.

You become a plant. Unified with the earth, this shared silence, peace, and warmth that brings you energy and death simultaneously. Gradually, it feels like oblivion. The most peaceful oblivion, what everything you can find in nothing, how heaven is where you want it to be right here, right now, with that nothingness in everything that consoles you.

The equilibrium of all and none produced by simply looking at the sky. Not in the faces of people. Not in your frail body. Not in the wrinkles, the blisters, the voices and eyes and mere presences of the people, but the infinite, timeless, and forever-where of the very thing you stand upon and under. 

Monday, February 12, 2024

Friday, February 9, 2024

Eyeless

Sun shines forever
Through your self and strike me down
I am blessed blinded

Thursday, February 8, 2024

Remind

 When I close my eyes,

cast through beautifully gray

patches and splotches

I drift or fade.


Such cool silence

beating and caressing

shining and dimming

deep upon the lids.


Such breaths

O, so pleasant an'

how I cry to feel your chest rise

and the tears down when

I hear sweetening silence

of your speech, love.


Take my hand and remove

this fear of flying you hold.


A few  miles away

is a gate or a door

A window

to peaceful ends.

Sunday, February 4, 2024

Hour of the Wind God

    I went out with my drawing pad thinking I would go out somewhere to go draw. Instead, I kept driving and drove to a kind of unpaved trail out on one of the roads on my base. It was partly cloudy out and extremely windy, with a high wind alert for sustained winds of 30-45 mph and gusts up to 65 mph.

    I was playing the soundtrack to Hylics 2 as I was out here, and some parts of the path had been flooded from the heavy rain last night and this morning. I avoided them by wandering out in a field. But the sunlight, the rolling hills, the heavy wind, it was incredible. I was alone for acres and acres in the middle of what looked to be nowhere, with such breakneck winds pushing against me. Then I started playing Moonage Lobotomy by Chuck Salamone.    


Standing in heavy winds with arms outstretched. That was me.

    I had my bomber jacket open and with the sun shining on me through the clouds, and the wind blasting into my jacket, I felt like some kind of wind god. The tall grass rolling like a current. How I could lean my weight forward with my jacket open and the wind would keep me up. And the music, so rejuvenating, energizing.


Okay, it wasn't that heavy. But I'd enjoy it even more if it was.

    It felt amazing. I could jump backward or forward and I could feel the force of the gusts push me further backward. And I would laugh as I ran into the wind. So alive. I didn't get to draw like I expected, but I got something better. And wet socks, too. (Had to walk through some deep puddles of water just to get back to my car fast enough...)


Bear witness to the wind god.

Later that day it was still windy way into nighttime. I was working out in my garage when I heard just how loud it was, the wind. So I went out again, this time with my gay flag strapped around my neck like a cape. All flying and shit in the wind like some hero or something. And then I played Moonage Lobotomy again and man, the fuckin gay energy walkin down the street, lol.

12/20/23: When Do We "Grow Up"

[Incomplete entry of when I went outside running and laughing in the rain]    

This transitions to a question I'm thinking of. As adults, we are expected and hardwired into behaving in particular ways. At what point does this childlike sense of fun, wonder, and awe go away? While it does not fully vanish, there must be some point in which we realize we are not children anymore. My little stint yesterday made me feel like such a child, and it was so fun, yet now in retrospect, I think on it as something dumb and stupid, even a little embarrassing, yet charming. 

    

1/3/24: What Did YOU Do?

[Incomplete entry]

I watched a video today of some kid breaking a record in Tetris for highest level achieved, this one. And he's just some kid, setting records and milestones. And when I watched it, sure it was fascinating on some technical level to see the game's code break, but what irked me was the question I formed: what are you doing?

The internet as a whole enjoys what is rapidly digestible and palatable. Visual art, games, streamers, trendsetters, sensationalism, drama, glamour. Emotional, artistic, and entertaining appeals that are easy or fast to consume is what the internet feasts on. It would appear that—as the separate world it is from reality, robbed of tangible things and physical existence—the opposite is not interesting to them.

The aforementioned appeals spread easily to wide audiences. But in the tangible and physical world, there are nuances of real humans, body language, social life, careers, livelihoods, survival, money, travel, etc. Constructing a theory to try to comprehend mutual and exclusive interests between the two discrete worlds, unify the goals and capabilities of both, and identify a distinct boundary between the two is to compare apples and oranges. It's not very easy or worth doing.

Don't overthink it. Your personal achievements and history and real-world actions are seldom impactful on the whole of the internet, where your own identity is never the same as reality. Between individuals however, despite the limited impact, at least there is one. 

WIP Worldbuild: Suncaster

 The game opens with a dream in which the player is swimming in a red ocean. When they surface, they see the sun, which is a deep orange or red. They stand in the water which is shin-deep. The ocean is infinite and goes to the horizons. The player finds a mysterious object in the water and when they hold it, it shocks them awake and they drop it, waking the player. The player is a person who wakes up in this village with no recollection of who they are or what their identity is, but they find objects in their home including a lab and different books and notes and they come to remember their skill at chemistry and their affinity/interest for psychopharmacology and mysticism. The village is quite small and does not have a lot of people, but it is homely. The player sees a city out in the distance and they figure they could go to the city and find out who they are. The player speaks to some of the villagers and assembles together a travel kit and they adventure to the city.

As they travel to the village and take shelter under a tree in the plains overnight, the player has another dream similar to the one they had at the start of the game. When the player gets to the city they go to a library and learn about something called the Temple of The Suncaster. It seems so familiar to them, but they can’t figure out why. In the library, in texts and from various NPCs, the player learns that while not much is known about the ToTS now, they learn that it is an urban legend/myth which some believe to still be true and real and that the Temple can be found. The player is determined to go there and find their identity because it is so incredibly familiar. Something is beckoning them to it. Their dreams seemed connected to it. Something feels so right about going to find the Temple. It feels like fate, destiny, to find it.

Eventually, the player meets a researcher in a museum after scraping through the library and speaking with several NPCs. The researcher is a curator at a museum in the city. The curator tells the player about the ToTS. It was a religion in which its followers worshipped the sun, as it was the closest thing to God, and without the sun, life would not exist on Earth. The temple is found deep in the Dawnwood Valley, an arid mountain range very far away. 

The Suncasters had an artifact called the suncaster, supposedly originating from a meteorite, which they believed kept the sun alive. Though those who followed the religion were quite satisfied and fulfilled following the Temple, those who followed too closely perished. The suncaster was so beautiful, so magnificent, that it corrupted them, locking them in a psychedelic hell and killing themselves because to do so would be to transcend into its brilliance. Some followers could not kill themselves. Prophets were able to, but most of the common followers could not. They became puppets of the suncaster. It made them mental slaves, living in that psychedelic hell and death was the only catharsis they could receive.

The suncaster killed or took prisoner most of its followers. One follower, a man named Omani, took the walking stones—several objects used at the entrance of the temple to protect them—and he used them to seal the entrance to prevent the effects of the suncaster from escaping and to stop it from killing everyone outside of the Dawnwood. Omani took the stones and hid them, then became a recluse in his den far from Dawnwood Valley.

This is all the curator has for the player. The player takes the clues and maps and items from the library and their adventure so far and they are able to piece together a map that points to the location of the first walking stone.

After obtaining the first stone, additional lore, items, and NPCs direct the player to where they eventually find Omani’s den, where he is found dead. Omani wrote down in his study the history of the suncaster and its followers and about the temple and the stones. Though Omani’s research does not reveal the location of the stones, the player scrapes though his work and finds some more lore, but nothing that points to where the other stones are.

The player experiences in their dream something odd about the suncaster. When they wake, they piece together clues they found, as well as a hint from their dream, and decode the title of a specific text. They look for and find a book in Omani’s den called Poconos, in which they find the final clue to the location of the second walking stone. The player ventures to where it is and takes the second stone.

When going to this location, the player finds they are on the outskirts of the Dawnwood, though the terrain is too dangerous to proceed deeper into it. They travel to the biggest town nearby the Dawnwood. There, in the streets, they find flyers and posters about a person who claims to be a follower of the temple. When the player finds the supposed follower soapboxing to a crowd, no one believes him. They call him a liar and berate him. The player speaks to the man. He seems crazy, much like speaking nonsense, laughable conspiracies, but the player can tell the man is telling some information that is useful to them.

The player speaks with the man privately and becomes convinced the man is in fact a real follower. The follower is somewhat corrupted. This is the first time the player encounters a follower who is still alive. The player fights the follower who becomes aggressive and the player kills him, then recovering from him one half of the third walking stone. It glows faintly.

When searching the follower’s home, the player finds notes and finds a contact. Apparently, the follower’s family is still alive. The player goes to speak with his family and learns about the follower and what happened to him. The player learns that the stone glows in proximity to its other half and they follow more clues given by the family to where the other half is.

When the player finds the other half, all three stones are complete, and they glow brilliantly together and point a beacon into the Dawnwood Valley to where the temple is.

TBD


Questions & Comments:

Why did Omani hide instead of destroy the stones? The player has an affinity for chemistry and psychopharma and mysticism. Is that also what draws them to the suncaster along with their dreams? What makes the player less susceptible to the effects of the suncaster? The player has a stronger mental fortitude and flexibility. Is there a name for that skill? Nerium. The player has a high nerial ability, that is, they can easily traverse planes of consciousness. In their dreams and with drugs and mysticism, the player has greater control over their consciousness, and thus is in greater control of the suncaster effects. 

How nerial are the prophets are compared to the common followers? Common followers, an d those travelers unfortunate enough to stumble into the temple, have extremely weak nerium much like any other person. Thus, they could less often kill themselves and became enslaved by the suncaster. Prophets have substantially more nerium than other followers, but killed themselves in belief that it would let them transcend. Was there a prophet who was so nerial they chose not to kill themselves, believing that suicide was insufficient for transcendence and that by living, it would be a better option? This could be the mysterious person who speaks to the player when they enter the temple. The player could be a lost prophet of the suncaster, one who was so nerial they could completely resist and lose effects of the suncaster, and so, maybe in the ocean or at the summit of Dawnwood Mountain, sacrificed all of their power and escaped somewhere, then losing their memory.


Cleaning be like


Do you ever have the Sunday cleaning mood going, then you clean your whole house and afterwards it feels really nice and it feels like this



Thursday, February 1, 2024

Nature Memoir I

     Each bend and fold and edge of these clouds. How they drift. Free, no mind, no thoughts, no pain, no joy. Nothing but existence itself. It is beautiful to watch them float and drift knowing their existence is so temporal. They are carried by wind and born of water and earth, to which they will return after such a short life.

    Giant. Small. Long. Short. They transform and change and shift into unpredictable unique shapes and formations. I stare at them and I feel I can cry but I do not produce tears. Instead, I stare longingly into them. They are unburdened by stress, the past, the future. Unburdened by anything. The clouds only know now, the present.

    How they give such character to the sky. Such a spectrum of white and gray. How it looks though the shadows and patches likes the white sea foam crash of an ocean frozen slow in time, only to vanish in minutes, hours. How you can stare deep and see a factory's smoke, cotton, snow, wet cotton, slush, smoke, oceans in the negative space that is the blue sky above them. And the light that increases when they finally drift away and how that light feels like God's presence and grace gently shining.

    How you wish you could be here forever. How the world, work, the people, the pain, the hurt, vanishes, so long as the clouds hover in your sight.