Sunday, September 29, 2013

Submersion, Synchroncity and Still Life

Unlike you...

I am afraid of drowning.
I don't advertise it.
I don't make a thing of it.
I don't even let it stop me from swimming or diving into the deep end of the ocean.

There's a lot of don't's and you're probably wondering what it all means.

It means nothing. Only that you still love wasting time, mine and yours. I still love having fun with you because of it. ha. Are you having fun yet? I am. 

Diego Munòz

This is one of my favorite images, I've used it here and here. Needless to say it reminds me of a bit of darkness that takes place in an old story, that I wrote and later published here, This story in turn reminds me that I was inspired by a video that looks and sounds like this... 

And if you're still not following me here's the story that I wrote followed by an image that captures the very essence of the story.

Still Life 
(September 25, 2009)

Floating. Weightless. Sinking.

There are a million thoughts in my mind as I’m descending further toward a watery grave. The loose pieces of white sheets dance in the aquamarine expanse that surrounds. The long black tendrils of my hair reach up to grasp and the last remaining spark of golden light that penetrates the water’s surface.

It’s not clear to me how long I have before hitting the bottom, or perhaps even, how long I can continue to hold my breath. There are so many uncertain feelings in my gut. Would this time be different? Had I pushed him too far? Would he really let me die? As I descend deeper and deeper, the pressure becomes heavier and it’s now a struggle to hold my breath. These last moments are becoming quieter and darker. The small glint of golden light is diminishing and the sea around me becomes bluish darkness.

Killing me had always been a threat that neither of us took seriously. Artists. Painters. We we’re so passionate, emotional, misguided, highly wounded and intense individuals. Both to blame so very often. Even after he dropped me off a building, hit me with a car, and took a knife to my face, I still believed in his devotion… as all was in the sake of the craft and I was never in any harm. The beauty of the moment - the creation of a single timeless instant to be frozen for all eternity. After the anger there was always such impractical beauty. Researched. Polaroided. Cataloged. Painted. Hung in the museum, the gallery, or the rich man’s wall for all to envy. This time I’m afraid he’s quite determined and madness has taken over. The madman fitted me with a pair of cement shoes which seal my fate. This will be over soon.

No point in struggling. That will only ensure that I’ll drown sooner. I’m wrapped tightly in 50 yards of white canvas bound by ropes from my shoulders to the base of my calves. Mummified in an eternal moment at the base of the ocean. The fool wanted to see the beauty in my death so he never wrapped my face. “There will be no need to gag you,” calmly he tells me as his hand brushes my cheek and pauses. Look him in the eye for answers. “You won’t scream or you’ll suffocate faster.” There are none as his gaze breaks away. He lifts me and carry me to the edge of the dock. “I can’t change this. You understand? This is the epitome. The final boundary - death. You must see the beauty in this. I love you.” Laugh. Kiss my forehead. Let go.

I’m falling. Watching his face from beneath the surface as it scrutinizes my descent.

Holding my breath is becoming unbearable. It’s quite apparent to me now… there’s no return. Pretty certain I’m reaching the threshold of my limits. Open mouth, release a bubble of air. The time is almost here. I’m fading. There’s no more strength. Take in water. Soon… open eyes and mouth, pale white skin, blood red lips, and aquamarine darkness against white canvas. Breathtaking beauty, researched, photographed, cataloged and then painted. Still life.

Tied Up by Tyler Shields c/o Miller Gallery

Instantly I'm reminded how much fun it is for me and not for you.

It's still nothing like Fight Club. 

Conflict. Solution.

Unlike me...

You mind people pointing fingers & them thinking how much yours looks exactly like someone else's. (*It may be a copy, but its still an authentic copy. You do have your own flair, darling. Be a love. Brag more. Some men really should. Others shouldn't. No shame in the game. kisses.)
You mind giving credit to another person. 
You mind so much that you keep making a thing of it. 
You mind that you are really crazy inauthentic. (*it's ok. it won't kill you. ha)

There's a lot of minds in there and it's a shame that you still aren't using yours. 
I'm not afraid to use mine... why are you? It won't hurt. Ok. It might hurt you a little. Worth it.

Use your mind not your reaction. 

Enjoy the story, the images, the video and only you can let your imagination run wild... unless you're afraid?

Kisses, m.

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