Introductory Nomenclature

Today is World Blog Day. Unbelievably it's been four years since I last did this. Since I realised I no longer read any of the blogs I cited four years ago, and also Para deleted her blog a while back, I decided to link to the ones I read regularly.

The Shape of Things To Come

The Raven, richardault, 2008

I've never been to a funeral before and I wish I could say I'd never have to go to another.

The day began by meeting the rest of the family over at my grandmother's house before the funeral cortège arrived to take us to the cemetery. As we waited I took a seat by the window when my eyes were drawn to her chair. So jarringly unoccupied it brought to mind the shot of Tiny Tim's empty seat in The Muppet Christmas Carol - the muppets did it best. If the chair was peculiarly vacant, the room and the house were even more so. The short drive to the crematorium was quietly sombre. As a grandson I was first with the rest of the family to enter. My mind was concentrated on trying to remain composed amid the audible grief of my mother, aunt and uncle. This was not the first time for them - my grandfather died five years before I was born. Whilst the hall filled my thoughts were drifting toward understanding the situation. When the coffin itself was carried in, trying to remain detached became infinitely harder - eyes drawn front and centre, staring at it. I didn't look at the service booklet because of the picture on the back page - photographs have become too disconcerting.

The Reverse Will

Skrik, Edvard Munch, 1893

About twelve years ago my brother and I got pet goldfish. They died a number of times, probably due to our negligence; but we were unaware as our parents had replaced them, overestimating our attachment to the point of driving up the motorway to the pet shop in Renfrew one morning. To say that we were upset about this would be an outright lie, truth be told I pretty much forgot we had them - the cat was the centre of attention. Pet fish are really an entry level pet, the sort that a child can make a fatal error without having any serious mental scars. Ashes to ashes, flush to flush. Later on my cat disappeared. He was older than me by a few years so it was all but confirmed he went to find a place to die. Still, the ambiguity makes denial easier, and I wasn't as upset as I would in a more clear cut situation - as when my second cat was run over. That was much different because I had her from kittenhood. Animals do have personalities. Despite not witnessing it, her death is quite clear in my mind. That led to an excruciating post in 2005 that I'm not going to link back to.

Heaven's Night

Silver Falls 19, emperley 3, 2010

Early Friday after midnight I was reminded of the Perseid meteor shower. I spent nearly an hour standing still looking straight up into clear skies. The first I saw flashed across half the sky. I saw perhaps half a dozen. One of the brightest left an afterglow in either the atmosphere or my eye. Stood in the garden without sign of another, I could have been the only one watching.

After a while I couldn't crouch out of the streetlights anymore and lay down on the stairs, like an uncomfortable recliner. I lay there staring through space. I stared through it and at it. I started to move through it. As the stars rolled over I had to call it a night before I fell asleep. The night sky was probably the view our ancestors woke to on first watch. Unobstructed by skyglow, they would have seen the milky way and the enshrined heroes pivot on the celestial sphere.

You could feel the sky.

Heard From Telegraph Lines

Back at the end of last year I gave the blog a new layout when I realised I had been using an ancient template the whole time. The labels gadget prompted me to get the post tags in order whereupon I noticed there was a gap in the more academic topics between mid-2006 and the end of 2008. Interestingly enough, that was the period this blog lapsed into diary mode. I managed to get back on track in October 2008 when I laboured to produce five whole posts, but it wasn't until this year that I regained motivation by inverse resistance to the rise of microblogging. Since I've mastered Goggle Docs' spreadsheets, here's some illustrations:

(Dream A Dream A Trance As You Dream) In Trance As Mission

The Listening Room, René Magritte, 1952

More than a decade ago in a hot and stifling home economics class each pixel in my eye went out one by one until my vision faded, my inner ear lost track of balance, and the last thing I could feel was my head painlessly colliding with the floor tiles. I woke up in bed, got up for breakfast and went about the morning routine for school. Then I woke up again in the recovery position on the classroom floor. As I woke I said to the teacher 'I was dreaming' - What I meant was, I thought collapsing was the dream, and the dream was reality. She figured I had dreamt Scotland won the World Cup. I always found dreams interesting like my own personal bizarre little narrative-defying films, which is why I used to keep a dream journal off and on between 2004 and 2008. A few years ago I read about lucid dreaming but largely forgot about it until seeing Inception. Since the start of this month I've been trying, though to no avail as of writing.

Overdose Delusion

Screenshot from Inception, 2010

I said I'd write up an analysis of Inception after another viewing and I've now seen it thrice - twice on the big screen, and once on the small screen *cough*. I've already pre-ordered it. Here I've tried to reign in my branching interpretations...