Thoughts During the Train Underwater...

    On the subway ride I kept thinking about the gap between one wants to do and what is actually done. I kept thinking about people, myself included, in situations that fail to full fill us. It seem a tragedy that on many occasions day go by when we are vessels filled with a longing to be immersed in a different activity. I've been going through a strange patch of the blues, a haze of blue in a way seems to have permeated into my immediate existence. This lacking has become a definite presence in my thoughts, it lurks darkly and silently when my attention is engaged elsewhere and before I can halter its movement it has found me again, vulnerable and receptive. I find that it is vital to explore my feelings, only by diving in can I regain inner balance and further understanding of myself.
     But I meant go along a different route, I began to take steps for the time and actions I need in my life. May this haze lift from my thoughts once it all begins to fold in and unite. The act of exploring this through writing already has helped.

The other notion that came to my head often during the ride was that of possibility.

Will continue...

Early discourses...

     It's been quite some time since I wrote something, anything really in English. I began writing in my mother language and the characteristics of Spanish lend themselves more for long winded sentences and a verbose construction. However, there has always been something about English that makes me be a bit more direct, somewhat less prone to fall into caveats of distraction. The act of writing usually hides some beautiful  cathartic qualities for me, the creative act, always has that for me. Without creating I would be closing my explorations of the universe and of existence. I feel that for the most part  I can remember and begin to re-understand life from a creative experience I need to help ideas make the jump from the intangible to the tangible dimension in order to further understand my self and my soul and the terms in which we find ourselves here...

Meandering Thoughts on a Monday Noon...

The book I am currently reading gives many thought. It makes me recall things from my current experience. It also makes me want to write more. Perhaps it is the fact that I'm in a building I don't come to often or maybe the fact they it is nearly desolated was makes me more pensive... Then again, it might be the meditative atmosphere, the book, and my latest reconnections. The question that came into my mind, and actually there is someone in particular I want to ask, is "how do you feel?" Not necessarily emotional. Actually, quite specifically I mean how do you feel as a physical being. The thing is that I don't feel accustomed to being a human... Fingers, movement, breathing... There is something marvelous about being a human and having the capacity to realize this, to ponder on our soul. I feel young, most the time I don't, but it feels on the surface. I am feeling my youth, my physical youth with my older intangible.

Nervous Breakdowns...

What is a Nervous Breakdown? And has anybody had one?
After a presentation on Joan Miro our professor asked this. Although  the term has become commonplace and we use it often when prompted with a question I could  not place it. I just looked it up, it is defined as "a bout of mental illness that is so severe it directly impacts their ability to function in everyday life". I suppose by this definition my answer to the latter question would be yes, often, sometimes, every once in a while. Although, I never described them as such but regardless here they are, inconstant, vagrant...

Querido Kerouac...

«Enamórate de tu existencia»

-Jack Kerouac


Escribo, escribo, escribo y recuerdo a Kerouac...

Sickly Ramblings...

    It's been a long long time since I've written and so being almost bedridden (I mean, I could go elsewhere but my body is too irritable for that, so in bed I stay) and officially in vacations it must be perfect timing. My day has consisted mainly of sleeping, reading, and tea. Quite sincerely, I'd aimed higher for this vacations but after a grueling week of perpetual all-nighters I think the body needs a rest. Well, not really my soul is not tired but frankly my body does not wish to cooperate.

    A friend once made a piece about the body not being enough. Lately, I have been feeling more and more in-sync with this notion. Intangibly I am alright, intangibly I am not sick or tired... but the body needs rest. Too tired to continue, since I didn't achieve what I set out to do I'll add an image.

My last still=life of the semester.

Fragile Sentiments...

Lately I have become imbibed with the notion of people having crystal globes on their head in my paintings I had the meaning set for this since the notion was conceived, yet, as I was walking perhaps two hours ago I stumbled into a new meaning these same globes had for me. Before going to work I was seem a friend I was trying to be find a golden fish (a fish that turned out to be simply fictious) and a secret, he was making prints. After a few seconds of searching for the secret I developed a theory (a rather far fetched and albeit sad theory, but I needed to see if it was true) and rushed to the other studio, I walked in to find perhaps twenty or thirty prints and a seemingly slightly vexed or at least aloof friend (sadly, as single-minded as I can be paid no notice to this fact and began to ramble about my theory). Theory was moot since there had not been a fish at all. Conversation soon turned to pointlessness with questions such as "Why do Art when no one cares?" and emotional turmoil about having to depend on other to live as an artist. However at this point I was already late for work and had to go. I began to write a letter (still unfinished) addressing some of these issues. Sometimes I process better when writing.

to sleepy to continue... tomorrow you will meet me again cyberspace