#uncrisis

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

♥♪♫

[eyesxxyou]

existential crisis on a Saturday morning ur brain didnt even try to let u have a good day 😭

i hope you uncrisis your crises pookie

🩰

I probably won't but thanks for the moral support

[driftwork]

a tall woman walks - scenes of collision (3)

what is that? what is that? This is pedantic and  a little too serious.  I will have to adapt my writing if I want to move from the past into the unknown future.  I would like to succeed, even if this is impossible. I was thinking how nice it would be to prove to  R that its possible to write a long piece, in parts or no parts at all.  I was reading sections of his novel over christmas, many small parts in his novel.   He says its a novel, whilst  I am sitting here reading his almost completed draft and wondering if that is a possible description. I suppose he is writing in a realist or naturalist tradition, how can he write this is in a liner fashion? Not that I have any big stories to tell. Nor am I really trying to describe my uncrisis filled life, perhaps i should just be sitting down at my keyboard and type. Yes, typing, write with finger ends rather than with a pen.  This is all its about really, words and  fingers touching the keyboard,  which produces sentences,  and the phrases and sentences are connected into paragraphs. Sometimes at least there are paragraph.  It's not scientific or engineering, usually not even grammatical.  R says he works with a subject and writes about human emotions, feelings, thoughts, machines and of course more than anything else conflict. Surely all there is is is words,  fingers, keys depressed, words. Sorry but my typing has been interrupted by...  I'm back but  am now having a network problem with the computer which is not attaching to the cloud.  It's later but not that later... Anyway the next two or three things belong after this

The woman approaches. This evening she has to work carrying out the list of installation tasks on the project chart. Does she need to be there? she is thinking. She is wearing high heel shoes  which are elevating her height until her already long body appears to glide.  She carries two bags and a feeling  that she should be wearing more utilitarian shoes. In one of her bags she has a pair of running shoes, in the other the usual supporting tools of an office bound manager.  Am I a manager these days? She wonders.  The occasional touches of instability as she strides along the pavement, remind you that it is hidden behind the passion, devotion and desperation to make it work, that belongs in her role,  concealed behind her personal history of work and expression.  This feeling possesses  artistry, power and the potential for extreme violence. Once she had been shorter, perhaps when she was a reptile, or a bird, or a human, then she had not really known about feelings.  In those days she had been pure action,  acting on events, reacting to situations, but here she imagines things are different.  Attempting to maintain a fidelity to the events.   Running, acting, waiting, sitting, fleeing or attacking.  Then had come her private ice ages,  everything had dropped as they had tried to kill her. She remembered when her world had been considerably warmer, gentler. Her mother and family.  The long waves approaching the coast, the pacific coast, the warm waters of the ocean.  Krondratiev would be proud she used to think watching the waves striking the coast.  People at home pleased to see her. And now, here,  well the sea is always cold here, though the land is warmer in winter and it rarely snows here. Still as she walked,  listening to the sound of her heels striking the pavement,  she wondered what it would like to have her family around her again […]

I watch her weaving through the pedestrian traffic,  her unique gait making me want to smile.  Her bag occasionally colliding with the legs of some person who gets to close to her. To diverge and yearn for the translation to be complete, this is what feelings are like and are capable of and her, as she walks towards me she is liquid desire.  Almost everything else is a matter of combination and difference. My grandparents and great-grandparents back into the nineteenth century were engineers and modellers.  Before that, if you go back far enough they were peasant farmers, serfs.  Most of my life was in the twentieth century. She though, that woman  who is approaching, with her jacket moving as she walks on her high heels.  tap tap tap. Her forebears were criminals and bureaucrats in the Asiatic mode of production. Further back still we had shared ancestors who were arboreal climbers, expelled from the trees and forest by the strong and the powerful, fists, biting, screaming, being hit by sticks. Our shared ancestors were not very human.  I can see her smiling at the sight of me.  There was no Eve and Adam though,  only a fuzzy set of indescribable beings we are descended from.  And  the set of feelings related to variations in heat and cold.  No woman was ever created out of Adam's rib. No paradise from which we fell.  It was always this terrible. She is  negotiating the spaces between the tables. Warm and cold,  thirty degrees in the tropical sea. I remember when I arrived sitting down in the bright sunshine. She is late and opens her mouth to say hello, sorry I'm late.  I can never forget this, I'll remember this in the chill of the day.  I'll remember this until I am beginning to die.  I feel warmer as she joins me at the table.  Have you finished for the day? I ask her.  She shakes her head, no I still have a long list of tasks to carry out before the installation completes. And you?  I'm going home after this... We collided long ago...

[hogwarts-republic]

Harry Potter and the Midlife UnCrisis

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

La gata Meiko♥

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

La gata yuko ♥

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

Solo quiero decirle a todos los que lean esto.

Aguanten, resistan, porque cada día dolerá un poco menos .♥

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

Finalmente en la vida nos perdemos con facilidad. No nos busquen en las horas, en los años estamos acá.

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

Skip and loafer, es un rayo de sol que alimenta el alma.

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

Manga - Seishun Kouryakuhon.

[un-crisis-de-noviembre]

Le escribí una canción que decía "Si estas sufriendo tranquila, que ya va a pasar. Esta doliendo hoy día, pero pasara" Quien iba a pensar que terminaría cantándola para mi.