HellO!!!
I know my blog entries have been few and far between. I do apologize! I've recently started embracing the handiness of a commonplace book, so all of my daily revelations and insights have been banished straight to those lovely pages. I absolutely plan to document them here one day, but with how insanely busy I've been, that time will
For now, I've recently been tasked by a certain individual with writing an essay about my relationship with literacy. Rather than make a personal piece easily accesible through this website, I thought I would bask in my glory by sharing some quotes from this essay that I'm proud of. I think I've gotten better at writing with my recent practice, and this blog was originally meant to document my process as a "life-long scholar," so I think it'd be nice to put these out there. Thanks for reading my ramblings. Enjoy!
I've always had an interest in "meaningful" art. I live for depth: meaning is my lifeblood, it pumps through my veins like hot ichor and secretes from my pores. I've lived in a state of constant yearning for something to satisfy my thirst.
As the non-dualistic Buddhists of Japan used to sing over the valleys, we are all one. We are a collection of experiences, passions, memories, ideas, and emotions; we regurgitate, we contort, we ooze, we guzzle, we pulsate, we limp, and we sing. The atoms of the ground below our feet, the clouds above our heads, the satin pillowcases we sleep on, the tendons in our bodies, the fur on animals' coats, the bricks of our houses, and everything in between are one and the same. We are not separate beings. "Art" is simply how humans attempt to communicate this, and "literacy" is the ability we, as members of the human race (and obligants of connection), attempt in turn to comprehend this. It may be the personal experiences that bound us to literacy, but literacy—in and of itself— is nuance. The strum of a melancholic guitar wakes you, and an old man's prose leaves you infatuated. A familiar face strikes your eyes, flowery charms cascading from her wrist. The experiences we share may be solitary, but what they leave us with is universal. Nothing is constant, nor is it static. Loop. Rebirth. Samsara. Loop.
Literacy is the language of love. We may live short lives and then sink into the Earth, and that's exactly what we have been doing for eons. Likely, that is what we will continue to do. Eventually, humans will go extinct and the sun will explode, leaving no trace of our existence. Every emotion you've experienced, every story you've been told, every line you've drawn will all be gone. It is time's impassive hand that ushers us forward. We are all connected by his gentle push. We may live years apart, separated by complex language, treacherous waters, and velvety hair, but humans have made art since the earliest of days. These ideas were like seeds in me, unconscious and abstruse bursts of emotions that floated around in my head for years, but never truly nurtured. It wasn't until Buck-Tick that I started to nourish these seeds and let them grow into a garden of abstract, palpitating ideas. Life, love, and matter will revolve infinitely. Like the protagonist of "Die," we will all seep into the sea of souls one day: it is just a matter of time.
This site was coded by hand with much love and tears. Thanks so much for stopping by! Don't forget your umbrella on the way out. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚