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[mesorages]

[mesorages]

ILYA REPIN: IVAN THE TERRIBLE AND HIS SON IVAN (1885)

This painting brilliantly captures the overwhelming force of rage. It vividly portrays a father-son argument that escalates into a tragic act of patricide fueled by uncontrollable fury.

In my view, this masterpiece delves deep into the essence of human emotion.

For me, rage is a captivating and enigmatic aspect of our nature; headaches, increased blood flow, nausea, digestive issues, followed by pervasive muscle pain, fatigue, and ultimately, a descent into madness.

The surge of adrenaline and the accompanying rush of blood enhance your strength and heighten your sense of fury. A bout of anxiety leads to hyperventilation, and hyperventilation fuels the flames of anxiety.

There is an undeniable magic in these sensations – a sacred moment when the world contracts into an infinite void and the potential of the day transforms into a somber canvas yearning to be set ablaze.

I am engulfed by a profound contemplation as I stand before this painting, reminiscing about the terrifying moments when anger and wickedness consumed me.

Art, I've come to understand, extends far beyond the walls of museums and galleries; it is an inherent part of the world we inhabit. It is the power to perceive the hidden beauty in everyday moments, in the ordinary things that might otherwise go unnoticed. Whether it's the delicate curve of a flower petal, the interplay of light and shadow on a city street, or the symphony of unspoken emotions that can transport us to the depths of personal hells – it's all art.

It's the manifestation of imagination, the ability to see beyond the surface and plunge into the profound depths of significance.

[mesorages]

Ephemeral sentiments

I am surrounded by a group of wonderfully diverse friends, all of whom share my exhilaratingly chaotic interests. We are constantly overwhelmed by emotions, feeling as if we could burst with the intensity of our passions. Despite this, we all share a deep love for the rain, but never stopped being the brightest souls. We embrace the warmth of life and allow it to seep into our fingertips. However, our strongest common bond lies in our attachment to ephemeral sentiments – the bittersweet memories encapsulated in a photograph of someone who is no longer a part of our lives, the poignant melody we haven't heard since a significant event, or the book we thought we had returned, now representing a chapter of the past, its details fading from memory. These fleeting moments bind us together in the tapestry of our shared experiences.

[mesorages]

Today i'm writing about you

Writing my innermost thoughts

Every passing moment feels like a whirlwind of emotions. It's 18:47 on the 19th of April, 2024, and my mind is consumed with anxiety and a sense of instability, yet the enchanting melodies of Schubert fill the air as I pour my heart into writing this .

I've always grappled with the challenge of articulating my thoughts into a cohesive paragraph, so I'll simply let them flow freely, devoid of order.

For a decade, I've immersed myself in the timeless works of genius authors, marveling at their adeptness in crafting captivating novels, poignant stories, and heart-rending poems. Regrettably, I've never possessed the skills to emulate their artistry.

And now, here I am, baring my soul to you, and wishing I had acquired this gift earlier, perhaps enabling me to love you through words boundlessly.

From a young age, I've always had a deep fear for the safety of my loved ones.

I worried about them encountering wicked accidents or facing harm in any way.

However, I never anticipated that there would come a day when I would fear for their safety from myself. This realization has been both unsettling and distressing.

As I navigated through the journey of life, I sensed a transformation within me, a subtle shift towards immorality and self-absorption, yet love and warmth never eluded my essence.

At times, I yearn for the world around me to fade into silence, granting me a fleeting moment to confront my deepest desires.

In this turbulent storm of emotions, my thoughts elevate into fervent obsessions, clamoring for recognition.

With each passing second, I feel an increasing sense of losing control.

Is it wrong to care deeply? To pour my heart into everyone and everything at the same time?

And yet, here you are, like Venus emerging in a void. An intriguing entity with a mysterious past.

In this moment, I crave to command every living part of your being, and this yearning shall not cease until it satisfies its longing.

The endless pursuit of you, which defies all probabilities, is the very essence of my current mental being.

This relentless quest for the unattainable fuels the fire in my soul, igniting a chaotic symphony within me.

It is always this unwavering pursuit that sets my spirit ablaze, for in the journey lies the beauty of the unknown.

For the time being, I find myself dwelling in a place that sparked discontent in me 16 years ago; and yet, this month, I found myself ending a relationship only to reunite within a mere 3 days. This serves as a striking testament to the ironic nature of my ability to make life-altering decisions.

As I eagerly anticipate the arrival of December to grow a tulip, I am compelled to express why, in my eyes, tulips stand as one of the most exquisite creations: they are enchanting light capturers, possessing an intense architectural allure, serving as agents of transformation. This phenomenon holds true for all bulbs, as they emerge as ephemeral, fantastical entities.

Plants, animals, and all the captivating creatures adorned with gentle countenances serve as my elixir of life, including you.

May we cross paths again, until the end of all Decembers.

[mesorages]

Miller's Girl (2024)

[mesorages]

“ENSEMBLE je suis le mot ‘ensemble’ je reviens de loin je suis fatigué (…) mon histoire est belle votre mémoire ingrate inconstante suicidaire j'ai volé de bouche en bouche sur les ruines du temps j'ai redonné espoir aux heures les plus sombres les yeux riaient à me dire à m'entendre j'étais l'heureuse nouvelle le ciment des révoltes source vive pour tant d'assoiffés de vaincus de proscrits rien de grand n'a pu se faire sans moi rien d'humain rien qui vaille de vivre (…) qu'avez-vous fait ? que faites-vous ? je vous fais peur ? (…) je vous ai tant aimés”

—          - Pierre Meunier -        Du fond des gorges (2011)

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String Figuring Woman

By Fuyuko Matsui

Traditional art

Colour on silk

2013

[mesorages]

Mishima: A Life In Four Chapters (1985)

Directed by Paul Schrader

Production design by Eiko Ishioka

[mesorages]

When Mary Shelly wrote "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other" god I really felt that

[mesorages]

Marcel Roux - The hands of death approach (1908)

[mesorages]

Sidney Meteyard - Hope Comforting Love in Bondage (1901)

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tenderness is in the hands ― Carolyn Forché, L’Avventura (1960), Ocean Vuong, The White Ribbon (2009), Hart Crane, Gelatin Silver, Love (2009), Ingeborg Bachmann, Les amants du Pont-Neuf (1991), Sylvia Plath, Psycho (1960), Rod McKuen (stills by @forhandsthatsuffer)

[mesorages]

The Holdovers (Alexander Payne, 2023)

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Marisa Adesman (American, 1991) - Glass Half (n.d.)

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All the Sins of Sodom (Joseph W. Sarno, 1968)

[mesorages]

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 5: 1947-1955

[mesorages]

“Nothing limits intelligence more than ignorance; nothing fosters ignorance more than one’s own opinions; nothing strengthens opinions more than refusing to look at reality.”

— Sheri S. Tepper