all things are not a cycle, but everything is a cycle.

—
Last night we watched Video Letter (1983), 20 of us gathered around a glowing square in the Skin. Well, I watched without subtitles, perhaps the only seat in the house unable to make sense of the japanese back and forth of Terayama and Tanikawa. The sequence of Tanikawa dis-robing, article by article, the sequence of artificially induced lava flowing, the colors in many of the sequences, the driecting switching between almost symmetrical and spherical viewing, to completely asymmetric arrangement, not of which done in that ‘perfect chaos’ way, between the calm extremely specific and concrete expressions of voice, and the pure, fringe of madness that was mildly introduced by Terayama, left a trance of confusion and certainty, that natural curiosity and solitude must continuously stay sacred.

—
If I had given in to my moms desire for me to continue painting, my dads desire for me to continue music. The heart and mission wasn’t there. No beacon, or tangible pathway to heighten heights made clear to me. Though I was given the means to get there. I reminisce now, so quick to dismiss my experiences in the church, in the woods, nose deep in video games, obsessed with basketball, that all of these surely were necessary to sit here enamoured by “The Rider (Not the Horse)” by Matthew Herbert. & London Contemporary Orchestra.

—all things are not a cycle, but everything is a cycle.