Well, yesterday passed, such as it did, starting magnificently, exhilarating and gradually folding into a worn out, depressing, cranky nightmare - which is to say, it was a normal and predictable family day. I liked the preparations and talking to my elder brother (as much as his honesty and straight-forwardness are impossible to others it is a refreshing novelty to me. Can't fucking stand the arse-kissing hypocrisy sometimes...), but by the end of the day, when my defenses were busted by how much pain I was in (not saying I worked the hardest, just saying we worked pretty hard.) all the bull and constant complaining over my performance were making me cry, so the General simply snatched me and we left. That man is indeed Godsend. It never would have occurred to me otherwise. Zero self-respecting perseverance issues on my end, zero. Am maintaining radio silence for a while, because between mum's blames how useless I am, dad's 'don't worry about her feelings, she's just sobby', and grandma's suicide hints, I just don't give a flying fuck about anyone blood-related for a while. I work my butt off and in the end all anyone can say about me is all the things I didn't do.
But thinking about that will make me dream of water (element of demise in my dreams..), so I shall focus on my contemporary honey: the pickies. Haha, I told the General, as we were leaving (the dog is so tired, by the way, that she isn't even complaining about having to sleep on the naked floor (she tore her lazyboy apart and is now shitting Styrofoam specks - looks like tiny crap constellations...). She is also in a little bit of pain, because she tried to snatch a roasted pork leg out of the oven while dad was rearranging them, and managed to burn her ear. Lesson learned?), that he should by now understand why I daydream about being gangbanged by a bunch of Predators: so that I needn't be HERE, now. But he was extra nice to me, seeing I was sad. Even allowed me to take a few of his pictures :D
Thinking about people's fascination with photography, I suppose it's got some to do with 'eros tanatos', 'tempus fugit' and all that bullocks, but also all to do with one seeing themselves as they are through someone else's eyes - which is always shocking. These tiny machines, these black magic, are uncanny in the sense that they can do what no other power ever managed, seeking the fountains of eternal youth - they can freeze time, time and again, as if there's nothing to it. The events of yesterday are now only personalized memories and a lot of muscle ache, but see here: Mark and me made them linger forever. This is better than footage, better than a movie. Here the magic of it is captured in details of the light, of the sense that even though arrested, the moment had to continue, the next step or next expressions had to come.. No other means of conserving memories exist so profusely: not sound, not scent, not the temperature of the air and direction of the wind blowing.. Not even any other form of art. Not even words. Between Mark an me, we're making the pirate copies of creation :D
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