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Sunday, January 13, 2008
and burn •
it's odd to see thatsomething weird about me seems to be, i know how i sort of want to(as opposed to sort of know how i want to) live my life. as in every moment and every day; this period and that stage of life where we're young and happy, trying to mature like good wine, living it up with friends and grandkids. in other words, i somehow manage to have a pretty optimistic idealistic outlook on life. and i can see the moments, and that's what keeps me going sometimes. it's a good thing. of course, it's a look forward for encouragement sort of thing, and ever so often things don't work out. most of the time things have gone horribly different, but i like to think that it's just the postmodern vibes of our generation's youth, and we'll settle down and stabilize soon enough, haha. even if we don't, there'll be another way about it. the idea of architecture as a way of life just sits better and better with me every day. there are many escape routes, haha. the people are what give it it's life; the design team, the clients, the consultants. the people who are close to us, not because of architecture but just because of us. the passion associated with the place, with LT4, with under block A, with St. John's island, with that little corner in the botanical gardens - it's because of the lives that we live and the emotions we attach to places, because of people. but so often people leave, or we don't feel close enough to them. because of doubt, because of aliens. then the place has to be enough, and the memories, the cumulation of our past experiences. intuition, the feeling that everything will be alright. it's pretty sad, but a guy needs something to grasp onto. i'd be inclined to think that, independence is a lie. still, the place is empty. i can't but desire more. walking brick and glass-lined streets full of happy people in the bright daylight has never done anything but good, and the design process begins because of desire. because a man desires more than a place; it must be filled with people who love and hate. nothing can bring back the feeling the old relationship, the old place gave. nothing can make it alright again, but it's the desire for relationships like that that makes a person sitting on a concrete slab by the cool, clear water pick up his pencil again. because the need is greater than the pain, whether it should be that way or not. i wanted to say, i'd decided to wait. because i can imagine myself waiting: it is a good picture. i could be content waiting; i can be good at waiting, i can carry on happily with friends and family, waiting. with jobs and studies, with music and sweat. but i think i'd not be waiting for that anymore, not precisely. because what mattered was not that i gave, because i feel that i could give so freely if i allowed myself to, to almost anyone. what mattered was what was given in return. and, cursed be the breath that brought this thought, but i doubt about things going back to how they were. because of a bad experience while you were gone. i'd decided to wait. i'd given myself too much slack, i'd told people. maybe it's given a bad impression. but crash-crush, i've found a use for the notebook you'd given me, deb. this is an impressionist tale - sing me this song. soundtrack not of anyone's life, but of this scene where there were two people, three people, one person. soundtracks of impressions. 4:30 pm |