Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Originally Uploaded here by minato

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Stars - Set Yourself On Fire (album d/l)

Posted by Kurrs at 7:37 PM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by Lothian's Foto's

I felt awful, out of sorts. After watching a film of frightful historical honesty and humour, I was insomniatic. Two days later I'm still suffering at the lack of sleep coupled with the physical realities of my job. Nothing seemed to be able to improve it.

And then I practiced. I closed the windows and the doors, breathed in a sigh of frustration and then began to tune. You know what? It worked. It is not that it makes me happy, but more that I feel more right having done so.

The rest of you might have had happy encounters with others involving music when you were a child, but I did not. When I went to practice the violin, I hid in a room and shut doors as to not disturb anyone. I read sheet music alone and wanted to write more. When I stopped playing, it was because I felt I had failed at the instrument, never stopping to even once consider my situation as a possible cause.

When I listened to music, hardly anyone understood the levels of detail I paid attention to, and to this day few can even begin to enter into conversation about it with me. Burdened by a lack of attention to detail, hamstrung by genrism, or simply uniterested. So, once again, mostly I listened to music to myself, usually alone in both depth of appreciation and in actuality. What I lack in musical theory I make up for in volume, breadth, and attention.

And, perhaps, you worry that I will not commit, that it will fall by the wayside without the sunshine of others' affections and involvement. I require lessons in technique and musicality from acknowledged betters, but you can keep your needs of human contact to yourself. Music is a conversation I have with myself, and anything else will be harder and not as rewarding for me. It is not to say that I will not do it, and gain from it, in both skill and enjoyment. But the most important, will be with myself. Your hearing it will be merely coincidence, like reading a diary, an act of communication of an internal dialogue, made better through it's resemblance with that dialogue.

When it sings, it will sing to me first.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: nothing
Alternative Title: Fury Guides My Hands

Posted by Kurrs at 7:52 PM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by shwe

I really am a cruel and vindictive bastard. I'm not sure if the source of my desire to force you to not only be wrong but to know it as well is well-founded and puposed, but it is certainly true. It is not that I am unreasonable, or that I fetishize my belief systems (thereby worshipping them as idols instead of treating them like the replaceable results that they are), and, should you be both right of mind and sound of judgement I will not overturn my loftiest proclamations. But should you insult the work of great men and women with your calm, dignified, unjustified hubris about shit you do not know about, you shall reap it at my hands. I will distain the use of rhetoric except where absolutely necessary, and if my juggernaught of reason does not calm your disgraceful misrepresentation then I shall bury you socially. In this, my righteousness is difficult to contain.

You truly are a magnificient candidate. Certainty and clarity brought on by age and maturity brings about in you a calm sense of personhood and reality that builds upon your established mythos. Your eyes and the shape of your lips, the curve or your cheeks and your hair call to me as they always did, speaking volumes of all the faerie madness of your youth. But this new thing, this density and reality, cement you into someone real and even more desirable. However, I am far too good at reading people, and the tells do not speak well of me in this passing moment between breaths. After months, perhaps, but not now, and, perhaps then, never.

It was good to see you smile. It has been a long time since we connected, and the depth of meaning you present to me is larger than I once conceived. Before, there was the space of time and emotions, either mine or yours, neither of which intertwined in the other but their mere presence muddied the waters and gave our conversations a distant air. But now, we were friends again, like tea and breakfast across the pond and all your obnoxious protestations at my intellect. Now, it seems to have cemented into something more akin to respect, and this is a gift from you more precious that I can give you thanks for.

I love you. I love you more than any other creature I have set my fancies on, and this grows out and tangles into the ground beneath my feet, strangling my freedom. I want so much to talk to you, to hold you, and to explain how I feel to you and know that you are better off now and that you are happy instead of merely inferring it. And, on some level, I want you to tell me that you still love me, even if it is said with both of us understanding that cannot, are not, and do not want to be together like that again. It outweighs all the rest, even my marriage, and I wish I could share that with you without burdening you. So, instead, out of all that love, I give you the benefit of removal because I'm afraid the weight of these feelings would be too much. I just wish I could look you in the eyes and say it again and not be a burden to say it.

I have computers again, and my arms and body are sore from fight and game. Yes, it was a good day.

Written On: Home Computer

Posted by Kurrs at 1:25 AM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded here by cenz

You invoke thoughts of civil war era damsels, clean and crisp amongst the muted browns, reds, and blues. A clear shaft of brightness and clarity, like a dove with hair. And yet, despite our apparent similarities in weakness, you don't capture me. Perhaps, sometimes, you do, when you and the light are caught together. Like a ripple of sun on the water that is, in fact, two beings indistinguishable from each other. But, true to your anthropomorphised twin, you don't linger.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Stars

Posted by Kurrs at 8:27 PM | Permalink

Originally Uploaded
here by blueberrymom

Posted by Kurrs at 7:38 PM | Permalink