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01 March 2016 @ 01:59 pm
self blind  
she looks out over the emptiness as though out over some great expanse. some method of collaborating evidence. some answer she'd been looking for all along. you know how it is, when you think you want an answer, when you think you're ready to know the truth, when the reality of it is you're just burning out on only ever getting a lie. it's like that, finding out who you are, finding out what this is, gathering together the answers you've wondered about for all your living days. you know what it's like. do you know what it's like?

it's like walking by a mirror or seeing yourself in an impromptu photograph you didn't have a chance to prepare yourself for: smile and focus, three-quarter your gaze, bring it back around to some sort of context. but the thing of it is you can't make a context for yourself. there isn't a context to be made. you're too close to the matter at hand. this is you, after all, you as in who everyone else has come to know and love or at least expect, not the you that you believe you are authoring in the sensory-impaired moment because:

we lie to ourselves, we ignore ourselves, we write over who and what we actually are, or we ignore that being for our inexact inventions, our withering perceptions, the who the what the how the how and how. the breath and the digestion, the immediate realm of conflicting thought, hello hello, are you in there, who am i talking to, who's been talking to me, whose line is it, anyway? we remember what we remember and we forget what we forget and back and forth, sometimes we forget what we remember or remember what we've forgotten. it's like that. there isn't a definition. there isn't a boundary around it. we are everything there is about us all at once and nothing to do with our selves at the same time:

and that's why a photograph can come as such a naked shock, suddenly giving this intangible amorphous mystery of the every moment full and undeniable form: how it felt to sit on that couch, the lighting around you, the faces of your smiling friends, the thought you were thinking, the moment you were having, this insulated bubble of being popped and burst all over the page into this awkward tangible brick wall of self which is always exactly the last thing you were expecting it to be.

it's exhausting, looking at things like this, examining the matter from the outside, seeing reality for the sharp corners and cold surfaces, seeing yourself for all your slouching pudgy aimlessness. and yet we insist on looking at ourselves, capturing our essence in an aperture, looking back at a moment that has passed, putting a form around something that no longer exists. no wonder so many of us hate to be photographed, it's too much honesty too far out of context, it's too much form imposed brutally and without structure. it's the chaos of one pulse instead of the rhythm of a heartbeat. there isn't even an establishing shot. just: there you are. naked of context. there in one moment. stretched out and pressed flat.

crap i stopped moving my pen. well, it felt like the text was done. anyway that isn't supposed to be a concept that enters into this equation, "done," "incomplete," moving toward, moving from. i am always incomplete. there is not a complete human being on the planet, not on the ground, not in it, not even the ones who've moved on: our lives are always unfolding, even after they've physically concluded. it's getting hard to live on a planet filled with such incompleteness, i'd say, if that wasn't the way it's always been.
 
 
music: life garden - continuous
 
 
 
(Anonymous) on March 2nd, 2016 02:23 am (UTC)
"too much honesty too far out of context..."
poetically brilliant and dead on the mark.
Whenever I see photos of me from years passed they all look like I have been found out with that deer in the headlights face I do like no one else.
You however look great
selva oscuraanonymousblack on March 2nd, 2016 02:41 am (UTC)
post triggered in part by a significantly more recent snapshot of me at a friend's baby shower (ye gods) and my very sad attempt at accepting another friend's ten day selfie challenge. maybe i'll get around to that next week. oh! how much more can my face look like the broad side of a barn.

anonymousblack was just a year old when i took the pic in the post. anonymousblack will be fifteen at the end of may. i think most of those same things are still stuck on the side of the auxiliary freezer at my parent's house, tho.
selva oscura: [rs] huganonymousblack on March 2nd, 2016 02:48 am (UTC)
though my absolute favorite snapshot ever was the one of my mother loading the dishwasher after christmas dinner at my aunt's house. she's got a butcher knife poised in her right hand, is visibly annoyed with her question about what the hell the photographer thinks it is that they are doing with that camera, and she's got a serious case of red eye from the flash. THING OF BEAUTY.

Edited at 2016-03-02 05:26 am (UTC)
(Anonymous) on March 2nd, 2016 10:24 pm (UTC)
Maybe its just moms, but I have a series of my mom at a mothers day party we boys had for her and in it she looks like Beelzebub with fiery white red eyes and the rest of her looked absolutely lifeless. It would freak people out and all mom would say was I told you I didn't take good photos.
She was right
selva oscuraanonymousblack on March 2nd, 2016 11:53 pm (UTC)
maybe it's that for some of us, just the sight of a camera brings out our darkest truths?
(Anonymous) on March 3rd, 2016 12:55 am (UTC)
That's all I need Karma cameras
selva oscuraanonymousblack on March 3rd, 2016 03:31 am (UTC)
they're a lot like speed cameras, actually. just takes a lot longer to get the citation.
So What?                       Kim Dot Dammit Livekdotdammit on March 2nd, 2016 09:51 pm (UTC)
This is beautiful. Thank you.
selva oscura: don't tell me i laced upanonymousblack on March 2nd, 2016 11:54 pm (UTC)
you're quite inspiring, lady.