purpleglitter and I watched the House of Sand (Casa de Areia) last night. Fernanda Montenegro is one of those actors that can speak volumes without moving her lips, a face that says more than words can.

A simply amazing movie. The move has an intensity so subtle and built up so steadily and skillfully that it simply envelops you and takes you on a journey to a place so far away that it seems like another world, yet still very much of this Earth. It is a pocket, a bubble of time, and the stories the lie there. If I still maintained my "100 movies everyone should see" list, this would likely be in the top 10.

i though at first the færie bubble bugs had returned
but it is just snowing

A couple days ago, I was smoking a chocolate-flavoured cigar with iamacliche and I figured out what the bubbles were. They were bugs. I saw them again behind his apartment building. They were little white bugs with white wings. They had a wingspan of about 3mm. In the hazy sunlight they looked just like tiny bubbles. Those around me have suggested I get my vision checked, as confusing bugs with bubbles could be an eyesight problem.

As they were real and just misinterpreted, seeing them was not a psychotic symptom. Even if my eyes are having problems, my image recognition processer still needs to be tweaked. Part of good image recognition processing is being able to compute a reasonable estimate of the probability of error, which my brain failed to do. My circuitry is a bit clanky, but it is still adaptable. I think that's why I have an affinity for jerryrigged items such as Oz: my brain is jerryrigged too.

Walking to the house_of_clocks from purpleglitter's apartment yesterday afternoon after the rains I kept seeing something quit strange. So strange that I'm not quite sure it was real. Ever so often a swarm of little tiny bubbles would fly up in front of me and I'd have to dodge them. It happened on the way back to purpleglitter's apartment, too. And again later when I left to see lady_babalon.

I truly believed that the bubbles were real. Even at this point I'm not convinced that they were an odd phenomenon caused by the rainwater interacting with something in the concrete of the sidewalk. Of course, I know that this isn't likely, especially since I only ever saw the bubbles right in front of me. However, the fact that I believed they were real makes it possible that the bubbles were some sort of psychotic feature. Psychotic features are supposed to be bad. But, I wonder if they are only bad if they get you in trouble. Me seeing the bubbles has caused myself and no one else any harm or distress.

And who knows? Maybe they were just færies just out for a good time.

As requested, I'm bringing more poems to therapy to read. This weeks list (nice crisp printouts on a new used printer given to me by a friend):

Gentle Company Simple Joys Leopard Heart Gender World Whatcha Gonna Be? Frozen Bubbles Dark Noon

purpleglitter is watching road kill on dirty jobs 3 on the discovery channel
i don't want to watch
i don't want to see lots of dead aminals
i'm going to type the whole time it's on.
sort of in a la la la, i'm not listening way
i don't want to see dead aminals
okay
let's write about something else
i hope this is over soon
they're talking about broken legs and necks
i don't want to listen
i wish she'd put it on mute
la la la
la la la
la la la
i don't like this
yuck
anyway
i looked
disturbing
yuck yuck yuck
i hope it's over soon
now they're going to bury them
green grass
red roses
purple bubbles
la la la la la
i'm not listening
la la la la la
unloading carcasses
la la la la la
la la la la la
i don't want to here about this
it's over.

purpleglitter just gave me a bath. I love getting baths at her house. She fills the tub and makes the water all bubbly. Then she scrubs my back and front with the brush. She lets me soak in the bath for a while, then when I'm done she pats me dry and puts lotion on me. I love being pampered. purpleglitter is good at pampering.

so here i am.
strobe in the back
sitting at the keyboard
i am supposed to be typing something
something hopefully interesting
when read later by me or others

the music mixes with the light
touches the light
i see the music
i see the interference patterns it makes with the strobe light
i am still sitting here
that's the sitting here update
that's to remind myself what i'm doing
i'm sitting here typing
if i didn't occasionally remind myself of that
i would forget
and i don't know exactly where that would leave us
if i forgot that i was here typing. sitting
no corrections
keep the stream
bubbles of reference
the music and strobe are beautiful
everything moves with me
edit thought
there are places i don't want to go
i know they are there
i don't know where they are
i don't want to know where they are
i don't want to there
in my mind are these places
it hurts when i get to close
it hurts now.
i don't like thinking about those places
i'll stop doing that
flashing light
purple
colours
rainbows
pre-paid phone card
look
touch
dance
refreshing energy
echoing slightly
i don't want to go into echoing
but i'm echoing on purpose right now
so i might as well go into echoing
echoing is very complicated
i don't want to make this post about it
anyway. i will end with and explanation
echoing is thinking about how you would describe an event instead of more purely experiencing it.
that's the end of this post.
or rather this is.

there is so much here. words cannot describe it right. this place. i am not in your reality. mine's changing. i'm in a bubble. there are streaks in the air. raining. raining. dancing. moving. bliss. this is my reality, because i make it such. i can edit reality. everybody does it. everyone edits their reality. it's just what's the template. pressed by memories. that tells us how to edit reality. change the template. it's that simple. reality can be anything you want it to be. your reality. not everyone else's. you don't have to be part of their reality. if you choose not to. it's just a matter of ignoring it. block it out. stop paying attention to their reality.

who is "i", the reader or is the author?
who is "you", the reader or the author?
what does this all mean?

I feel good. I feel very good. I feel very very good. Floaty. The room is floating. Rocking back and forth on the waves. The walls are liquid here. Rippling. The monitor is liquid. Bubbles of light float up through it. Flickering and popping. My shadow is dancing on the wall. Across the speaker. The walls are shaking. Rippling. My back is liquid. I can feel cool water flowing through me. I'm floating. Drifting. Proportions are odd. Everything seems in skew. Gentle waves pass through everything. Nothing is solid. Everything is floating in an sea of vacuum. Waves. I see the waves. Floating. Everything is waves. I see them. Floating in the vacuum. Everything is so bright. So bright here. Wonderful peaceful light. Wonderful peaceful light. I am engulfed in bliss.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to the Salvation Army with merryperseis and purpleglitter. I got a ton of new clothes for only $15. I didn't get as much summer stuff as I had planned, but I did get a wonderful knee-length piece of lingerie that will make a very nice summer dress.

-----

After we got back from the Salvation Army, we went and fed the geese at Spy Pond. Even the swans ate out of my hand. Only the ducks are too timid. Or too short. Or are simply afraid getting in front of the geese.

merrryperseis brought bubbles. After she was done making bubbles, she let me make them. The geese didn't quite know what to make of the bubbles. They'd inspect them as they floated by and the scurry away if they got too close.

A woman who had her toddler at the pond brought her to see the bubbles. She loved playing in the bubbles. She stayed for about ten minutes as I blew bubbles at her. It was big fun. She kept reaching his hand out trying to catch one. They always seemed to miss her hand and hit her face. She didn't seem to mind. In fact she laughed every time one hit her face.

I took much time to smell the flowers on the way back. Spy Pond is a little piece of paradise right in Arlington.

-----

After Spy Pond, we sat and talked in the livingroom fo an hour or so, then purpleglitter went home. Rosey joined merryperseis and I on a trip to the Diesel Café. The Diesel's front windows can be raised in a garage door type fashion as they were today. We sat at a table right on the edge of the sidewalk, which was very convenient, as Rosey could smoke and talk to us at the same time.

-----

Back at home, merryperseis and I spent a beautiful romantic evening together. The day would have been perfect if I didn't have a freakout in the closet after merryperseis went to bed. I woke her up and she helped me get back into a good state so I could sleep. Even with that sour note, the day was wonderful, One I wouldn't mind repeating.