rude awakenings, poetry, and other ramblings

my dream last night was more freaky than weird. i was a photographer scripting a tense dinner scene and after 30 minutes [dreamtime] of arguing with the character actors, retouching the set, and travelling by bus [i don't get this either], all that was left was to actually take the blasted picture. then the guy playing the father-figure pointed out that the christ on the crucifix above their heads was dancing. when i turned to look, the dancing christ jumped me.

that was almost as bad as yesterday, when my left hand went numb in my sleep so that when i woke up, i smacked myself in the eye with it. or the day before, when i fell asleep on the sofa and dreamt that i was lying on the sofa and suddenly my lower left front tooth chipped off. you should have seen me running to the nearest mirror, thinking how in the world i would explain my 'new look' to my parents.

moving on to more pleasant things, i have recently discovered the poetry of jalaluddin rumi [samples below] through a documentary of the work of coleman barks, rumi's number one fan. how hooked? he set all rumi's poetry to music. now that's dedicated.

i haven't gotten my paws [pun intended] on angela carter's the bloody chamber as of yet, but in case any of you have that gem at home and haven't gotten around to reading it, i suggest you do. then i suggest you gift it to me.

this is a screenshot from square enix's new 'film' final fantasy: advent children. yes, that is cloud from final fantasy vii and yes he looks extremely fruity. somehow i never noticed that he wears a sleeveless turtleneck before. but regardless of the new and unfortunate character design i am looking somewhat forward to knowing more about the project. vii just happens to be the yet unparalleled best title in the series [discounting graphics, of course].

frytz is serious about developing an s15 vs profs fighting|rpg game. we [minus jerwin obviously] stayed up until 10.30 last night just talking about combos and cheating and sprites [oh my!]. well i have to admit it would be a good use of my time and lately lax creativity, as well as potentially profitable.

it looks like i'll be bringing my sketchbook to school from now on.

sige ingat.ü

---

ps: a sampling of rumi's poetry [or two or 12]

do you know what i'm doing?
that for one breath or half-breath i belong to myself?
as much as a pen knows what it's writing,
or the ball can guess where it's going next.

come to the orchid in spring.
there is light and wine,
and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers.
if you do not come,
these do not matter.
if you do come,
these do not matter.

who comes to a spring thirsty and sees the moon reflected in it?

when i am with you,
we stay up all night.
when you're not here,
i can't go to sleep.
praise god for these two insomnias!
and the difference between them.

i want to be where your bare foot walks,
because maybe before you step,
you'll look at the ground.
i want that blessing.

on resurrection day your body testifies against you.
your hand says, "i stole money."
your lips, "i said meanness."
your feet, "i went where i shouldn't."
your genitals, "me too."

the mystic dances in the sun,
hearing music others don't.
"insanity," they say, those others.
if so, it's a very gentle,
nourishing sort.

i have lived on the lip of insanity,
wanting to know reasons.
knocking on a door, it opens,
i have been knocking from the inside!

i would love to kiss you.
the price of kissing is my life.
now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
"what a bargain, let's buy it."

you've seen a herd of goats going down to the water.
The lame and dreamy goat brings up the rear.
there are worried faces about that one,
but now they're laughing, because look,
as they return, that goat is leading!
there are many different kinds of knowing.
the lame goat's kind is a branch
that traces back to the roots of presence.
learn from the lame goat,
and lead the herd home.

i, you, he, she, we.
in the garden of mystic lovers,
these are not true distinctions. 
posted by stani at 8:41 AM