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  • darklight

    Mar 16 2011, 13h43

    As I continue to explore my recent new fascination with "dark" music I am becoming more and more convinced of the following intuition: The dark & the light are not, as almost everybody casually supposes, two separate things.

    If you think of them that way then, of course, that is what they become. And for most people that is how they will forever seem.

    But, in reality, they are one thing (or perhaps, more accurately, two different perspectives on the same thing). And to those willing to look more deeply, they appear as they really are: As one.

    I hope that, in time, my music library will evolve into a source of this one thing, this darklight.
  • rabbits: white & black

    Mar 7 2011, 14h24

    I've come to realize that in NYC, many of the most interesting places often have no signs on the front. You are either 'in the know' about them, or otherwise you could just walk past them a hundred times and never even suspect the exotic marvels lurking behind some nondescript door.

    My project for this coming summer is to explore this underground culture of NYC (both light & dark aspects). I intend to put myself into situations where, like Alice, I'll be more likely to encounter the rabbits (either white, or perhaps, black) that will lead me down the rabbit hole...

    I hope to write here about whatever experiences may result.

    Are you into ambient/electronic music (dark or light), dark culture, esoteric spirituality or mysticism? Are you in NY? I'd love to hear any suggestions or recommendations you may have...
  • on seeing Android Lust

    Fev 28 2011, 12h59

    Fri 25 Feb – Brown Out w/ MTV Desi

    [This is not a review. It is only a personal reflection.]


    In arranging to attend the Feb 25 Android Lust performance in NY, I had to overcome what, at times, seemed an almost fateful series of obstacles: a bad case of the flu, serious work obligations etc etc.

    I sensed I was somehow being put to a test of the will: Did I really want to break free of my comfortable past, and reach out to this unfamiliar distant flickering light? At each obstacle, my inchoate response was: 'Yes, and at whatever price.'

    I sensed that my long trip in to Manhattan on that stormy blustery day was a personal journey: At each point having to resolve anew to break through the confining protective inertia of my own mind. Moving beyond every sensible excuse to turn around and go back home. But there was no turning around...

    Finding the venue. Settling in with a glass of red wine. Absorbing my surroundings. Then, suddenly, a sense of presence. She walks past me. Shikhee.

    I approach. My eyes meeting hers. Those eyes set infinitely deep into the blackness of the room and the yet deeper darkness of her skin. Those eyes casting their calm unwavering light into me. I was face to face with the heart of darkness. I was in her dark alien presence. I was home...
  • Gothic Belly Dance

    Fev 7 2011, 2h24

  • the only people... - Jack Kerouac

    Jan 28 2011, 18h33

    The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'...
    -Jack Kerouac (On The Road)
  • on hearing Amel Larrieux at the Blue Note...

    Jan 25 2011, 16h01

    Fri 21 Jan – Amel Larrieux

    This isn't really a review. It is, rather, merely a personal reflection inspired by attending this event:

    I went into Manhattan on Sunday to meet a friend and hear Amel Larrieux at the Blue Note. It was certainly a pleasant evening, overalI. I enjoyed the music, at first, (she's very talented) but gradually grew aware that I was becoming bored. It occurred to me, then, that the entire exercise was, more than anything else, a kind of inertia (from making the reservations some weeks before, and onwards). It was behavior of mine from a chapter of my life that I see now is passing. (Comfortably familiar doors slowly closing. The dim flicker of a darker light beckoning from beyond opening cracks of less familiar doors...)
    This realization made me feel odd but I also found it strangely liberating, exciting..
  • moonbaths - Anais Nin

    Jan 24 2011, 19h04

    At sixteen Sabina took moonbaths, first of all because everyone else took sunbaths, and second, she admitted, because she had been told it was dangerous. The effect of moonbaths was unknown, but it was intimated that it might be the opposite of the sun's effect.
    The first time she exposed herself she was frightened. What would the consequences be? There were many taboos against gazing at the moon, many old legends about the evil effects of falling asleep in moonlight. She knew that the insane found the full moon acutely disturbing, that some of them regressed to animal habits of howling at the moon. She knew that in astrology the moon ruled the night life of the unconsious, invisible to consciousness.
    But then she had always preferred the night to the day.
    Moonlight fell directly over her bed in the summer. She lay naked in it for hours before falling asleep, wondering what its rays would do to her skin, her hair, her eyes, and then deeper, to her feelings.
    By this ritual it seemed to her that her skin acquired a different glow, a night glow, an artificial luminousness which showed its fullest effulgence only at night, in artificial light. People noticed it and asked her what was happening. Some suggested she was using drugs.
    It accentuated her love of mystery. She meditated on this planet which kept a half of itself in darkness. She felt related to it because it was the planet of lovers. Her attraction for it, her desire to bathe in its rays, explained her repulsion for home, husband and children. She began to imagine she knew the life which took place on the moon. Homeless, childless, free lovers, not even tied to each other.
    The moon-baths crystallized many of Sabina's desires and orientations. Up to that moment she had only experienced a simple rebellion against the lives which surrounded her, but now she began to see the forms and colors of other lives, realms much deeper and stranger and remote to be discovered, and that her denial of ordinary life had a purpose: to send her off like a rocket into other forms of existence. Rebellion was merely the electric friction accumulating a charge of power that would launch her into space.
    She understood why it angered her when people spoke of life as One life. She became certain of myriad lives within herself. Her sense of time altered. She felt acutely and with grief, the shortness of life's physical span. Death was terrifyingly near, and the journey towards it, vertiginous; but only when she considered the lives around her, accepting their time tables, clocks, measurements. Everything they did constricted time. They spoke of one birth, one childhood, one adolescence, one romance, one marriage, one maturity, one aging, one death, and then transmitted the monotonous cycle to their children. But Sabina, activated by the moonrays, felt germinating in her the power to extend time in the ramifications of a myriad of lives and loves, to expand the journey to infinity, taking immense and luxurious detours as the courtesan depositor of multiple desires. The seeds of many lives, places, of many women in herself were fecundated by the moonrays because they came from that limitless night life which we usually perceive only in our dreams, containing roots reaching for all the magnificences of the past, transmitting the rich sediments into the present, projecting them into the future.
    In watching the moon she acquired the certainty of the expansion of time by the depth of emotion, range and infinite multiplicity of experience.
    It was this flame which began to burn in her, in her eyes and skin, like a secret fever, and her mother looked at her in anger and said: "You look like a consumptive." The flame of accelerated living by fever glowed in her and drew people to her as the lights of night life drew passersby out of the darkness of empty streets...
    - Anais Nin (A Spy in the House of Love)