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"More light..."
Nov. 21st, 2004 09:11 pmDriving a car against the dark building clouds over Los Angeles is like flying over the city; all portholes and shadows against growing motions of nothing and light. It's a notion of a path untaken, over a shadow. Pattern and reality. Riding. Flying. Moving. Chaos and might in a wonderful confusion against the pending storm.
The freeway opens up and there is clear sailing from one side of the city to the other, and I am in the middle lane...
Made my way to Marc's (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thrasymachos) place for a night of Amber: Diceless Roleplaying--Adventure and imagination; comraderie and conversation--the makings of a good night. And so we played a good game, making our adventures up together, if only in a collective imagination. Justin, and Eric, and Wilson, Holly (chatoyn), Adam and myself began a turn towards a better understanding of the world that we are inhabiting. We find out more, delve deeper, and begin making plans, plans, plans. And there was riding through shadow and pattern, through chaos and light.
I shall not speak about the furry creatures with machine guns. Don't piss them off.
We all hung out and chatted, and talked of things both highly amusing and completely inappropriate for mixed company (some of which came from Holly's mouth--most from Justin's). Some chugged beer, some of us just munched, and all of us giggled a good bit. Kylie (kyillee) showed up in there during all that. More crazy commentary, and bumping music.
Folks took off, leaving Me, Marc, Justin, Eric and Adam to sit and be gross guys. By gross, I do mean travelling as far as shadow and flame. Strange things that men only speak of in the darkest moments of the night, fuelled by beer, and laughter, and testosterone. Most of which is un-repeatable, save at a bar while downing hotwings and beer, and staring at a half naked dancer on a pole...or post game...most things had to do with Teddy. LOTS of Teddy.
Adam supplied the shadow and flame...and lit a fart. ACTUALLY LIT a fart on fire. And the flame was huge, and wonderous, and frighteningly funny. And something that everyone needs to see. Color and light.
The night grew late, and we departed one by one, and soon all had said adieu. Clambored into my car, and turned onto Venice and then into Jack-In-The-Box. It started to rain as they handed me my food. The shadow had turned into the little drops of liquid moonlight, cleansing the world as I floated towards the south on the vacant 405.
Woke up in the sofa chair to the sounds of The Two Towers operatic score. Wonderous way of waking up, though the back is a little stiff as a result. Marked by a tiredness and a still moving mind (and a laundry covered bed), I opted to sleep in the chair. For fear of the silence that is a dark, shadow haunted living room, I consented to battle with the shadow of Mordor and the dark bond between the two towers. The treason at Isengard makes for a comforting bedfellow.
And dreams of Miranda Otto are a lovely thing.
My Grandpa Charles called, and said that he and his wife, Liz would be driving out to visit with our sept of the family. Mom, myself, and grandma scurried around getting the place in order, cleaning here, and there, and shuffling around.
Grandpa showed up and stayed in a marvelous visit, a good time. There was no awkwardness between he and grandma (as there used to be, long, long ago), and nothing but love, and stories of his latest trip (this time to China), and family tree research (He, my mom and myself are rabidly pursuing a complete family tree). And planning for the big family get together for Thanksgiving. Phoenix suburbs, here we come.
After a few hours, they left, having deposited their gifts upon the family and handed out warm, loving hugs. They drove off into the dark, elongated shadows of the new evening.
And then television, which is only shadows and light, and patterns on the screen. Patterns of story, which have elements of dark and light, repeating themes, built up of plans, plans, plans, and fiery stories of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
It's been a good weekend. Full of color and light, and shadow, and flame, and light...
I do love light. It reminds me of an empty white page. Fresh, and virginal; plain and enticing me to write my name accross it, and explore the possibilities of soiling it with the warm pressing of pen to paper, ink to parchment. Staining it with what imagination I may have, filling it with my own prose, my posey, my own self.
What a notion. Shadow on light making pattern, making me smile.
The freeway opens up and there is clear sailing from one side of the city to the other, and I am in the middle lane...
Made my way to Marc's (
thrasymachos) place for a night of Amber: Diceless Roleplaying--Adventure and imagination; comraderie and conversation--the makings of a good night. And so we played a good game, making our adventures up together, if only in a collective imagination. Justin, and Eric, and Wilson, Holly (chatoyn), Adam and myself began a turn towards a better understanding of the world that we are inhabiting. We find out more, delve deeper, and begin making plans, plans, plans. And there was riding through shadow and pattern, through chaos and light. I shall not speak about the furry creatures with machine guns. Don't piss them off.
We all hung out and chatted, and talked of things both highly amusing and completely inappropriate for mixed company (some of which came from Holly's mouth--most from Justin's). Some chugged beer, some of us just munched, and all of us giggled a good bit. Kylie (
kyillee) showed up in there during all that. More crazy commentary, and bumping music.Folks took off, leaving Me, Marc, Justin, Eric and Adam to sit and be gross guys. By gross, I do mean travelling as far as shadow and flame. Strange things that men only speak of in the darkest moments of the night, fuelled by beer, and laughter, and testosterone. Most of which is un-repeatable, save at a bar while downing hotwings and beer, and staring at a half naked dancer on a pole...or post game...most things had to do with Teddy. LOTS of Teddy.
Adam supplied the shadow and flame...and lit a fart. ACTUALLY LIT a fart on fire. And the flame was huge, and wonderous, and frighteningly funny. And something that everyone needs to see. Color and light.
The night grew late, and we departed one by one, and soon all had said adieu. Clambored into my car, and turned onto Venice and then into Jack-In-The-Box. It started to rain as they handed me my food. The shadow had turned into the little drops of liquid moonlight, cleansing the world as I floated towards the south on the vacant 405.
Woke up in the sofa chair to the sounds of The Two Towers operatic score. Wonderous way of waking up, though the back is a little stiff as a result. Marked by a tiredness and a still moving mind (and a laundry covered bed), I opted to sleep in the chair. For fear of the silence that is a dark, shadow haunted living room, I consented to battle with the shadow of Mordor and the dark bond between the two towers. The treason at Isengard makes for a comforting bedfellow.
And dreams of Miranda Otto are a lovely thing.
My Grandpa Charles called, and said that he and his wife, Liz would be driving out to visit with our sept of the family. Mom, myself, and grandma scurried around getting the place in order, cleaning here, and there, and shuffling around.
Grandpa showed up and stayed in a marvelous visit, a good time. There was no awkwardness between he and grandma (as there used to be, long, long ago), and nothing but love, and stories of his latest trip (this time to China), and family tree research (He, my mom and myself are rabidly pursuing a complete family tree). And planning for the big family get together for Thanksgiving. Phoenix suburbs, here we come.
After a few hours, they left, having deposited their gifts upon the family and handed out warm, loving hugs. They drove off into the dark, elongated shadows of the new evening.
And then television, which is only shadows and light, and patterns on the screen. Patterns of story, which have elements of dark and light, repeating themes, built up of plans, plans, plans, and fiery stories of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
It's been a good weekend. Full of color and light, and shadow, and flame, and light...
I do love light. It reminds me of an empty white page. Fresh, and virginal; plain and enticing me to write my name accross it, and explore the possibilities of soiling it with the warm pressing of pen to paper, ink to parchment. Staining it with what imagination I may have, filling it with my own prose, my posey, my own self.
What a notion. Shadow on light making pattern, making me smile.
