Friday, November 30, 2007
When you get a lot in one time, irritation attacks on what's the better first.
You reflect and don't refract at all in everything that even makes you assume.
I feel both envious and disgusted at innocence.
You can be extremely happy without knowing anything, anyway or so that is it.
It wasn't really unnecessary. I'm just locked in time.
It's funny how distance tend to ruin the solitude itself and bring indifference.
I hear music as it is, coexisting with me and it makes me wait.
The extraordinary tenses life can make is too overwhelming.
Labels: The Self to the Art
Erika Ruiz
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
She walked past the diagonal-faced building - her school - and turned on the right of it. The balance changed into a carnage-like tone. The angle revealed a slum, failing the oddly-fashioned sense of existence. The slum could be mistaken of a place a war has left over with fresh eerie afternoon, grotesque and violence. She went ahead, without hesitation and unease, knowing where she would head, but not seeing the actual destination. On the right corner, there was a slaughterhouse; she stopped. The slaughterhouse, bloody and overused that the tiles filled with the stain of blood on the wall are all broken, has rails as a gate and as a sliding door. It shows everything that's inside. It was small and reproachful. She went in and saw a hanger with stealth weapons hanged: long dagger, a grenade, and unknown ones. She saw a fetus-like creature, living, standing and breathing; it/he shows no expression. She grabbed the long dagger from the hanger and they started a vague fight. She stabbed it/him more than once. The fetus-like creature showed grimace and said "I will never die." as the wounds get healed fast, as in regeneration. It/He was laughing. It scared her. It was almost night.
She doesn't want to go back home. She was frightened that she decided to go to her school for no reason. Viewing the front of the diagonal-faced building, everything can be seen - it was made in glasses, the walls and the windows and everything. On either side of the entrance, lies golf-like disciplined grasses, and there were beggars sitting on it. Too many she doesn't know the exact. She suddenly thought of giving and feeding them free noodles and began imagining them eating using chopsticks and putting it with the noodles in their mouths with delight. She went forward, going right. On the right of the school building, bizarre enough, were well-known fast food chains. There was a balcony on the other side, where she was stepping at the now. She saw alot of people inside, students rather, eating and outside, at the balcony, she saw Neil once again, smoking. She stared at him and gave a neutral force just for him to know that she knows him. There was no reason to be there, in between and in the center of the commercial side of the building and the balcony where people are smoking. She went in to get the used containers of the food in a fast food chain without thinking further and went out, saw the smokers at the balcony and threw the used containers in a garbage can in front of the diagonal-faced building and thought of it as an idiotic thing to do.
She went ahead to the slum. She peeped at the slaughterhouse and saw, on the left corner of the little square, a grey and shabby hospital-looking-matresses where the fetus-looking creature was sleeping. She once again grew uneasy. She went inside. Setting changed as she sat on the right corner of the floor, her sister appeared into view and she talked to her without knowing what's the substance of the conversation. She held her communications while checking something in her other innovations. Her sister disappeared in no notion and there, inside the door inside the slaughterhouse a middle-aged woman appeared holding squids. The sleeping form and position were nowhere to be seen and was changed by a table where the middle-aged woman laid what she held and exposed an expression she couldn't figure out. Suddenly she was behind the bars of the slaughterhouse, she was outside on the right corner and was talking to the middle-aged woman while she was still in her position, doing something blurry on her squids. She saw the fetus-looking creature still sleeping, now on the right and in front of her. It/He grew very small. She hesitated, then she held it. It/He opened its/his eyes and gave a tarsier-like serene eyes that shocked her. She felt silent, but she was still stroking the creature's head in a gentle way. It was a calm catastrophe.
It was her fear.
Labels: The Self to the Art
Erika Ruiz
Monday, November 26, 2007
The long parade of idleness my mind made in such a devious channel granted the time to wain into something leading to differences that broke my passionate alliterations. I was tired.
Labels: Facing Inner Views
Erika Ruiz
Thursday, November 22, 2007
or morose depressions
or appealing metaphors
tell them all, away from extents
My mind connected a lot
of fictitious happiness
it might not happen
It's tormented and opaque
same tone, but I'm creating weariness
from destination points
I'm in prison for this day
when everything gave a heavy existence
I couldn't bare.
It doesn't sound nice because it doesn't have a tune.
I just want you to know because I want to know.
Labels: The Self to the Art
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, November 17, 2007
I was reading Sartre one day and it made me think more. How can one wake up and still exist seeing people talk about things that disgust me?... the basic and unnecessary words. I gained more confusions. I know it was long that it took me four hours to end it, but I forgot what else were furthered.
I saw this family having a talk while the father is driving. They were weird in a way that I find this as a new matter of existence and in a different sense. They did not disgust me. The father kept on saying "Baba! Baba! Baba!" and the mother who looked like my friend was holding their two children, sleeping, and kept on gesturing and talking to her husband in a very different manner it made me look like a kid looking at a mad woman running backwards. I'm just quite sure I don't want to see that kind again.
I get confused over the rain on how I could walk, my feet almost wet and feeling cold and alone, with having biases knowing how much the same sky loved the rain. I regained my calmness over the rain falling while walking. I still feel something, it never was completely apathetic and I hope everything will get cleared up before we get lost. Just don't let the time to pass keeping up the distraction by avoiding, I'm more than willing to trancend everything because I'm not scared of this that the only threat is the next and trust is the only element that needs to breathe. If I make my past be a vacuum itself because it hurts to feel anything, I'm afraid I have to go to preoccupation again and let go, but I'm quite still sure I don't want to... wherein I'd never leave.
Labels: Facing Inner Views
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, November 10, 2007
The only cogitation that registered and sunk into my head is the possibility of a new dimension that can be created. Like everyone can really do it, just that you have to represent yourself as yourself although I'm thinking it's very risky because of the motion it requires for creation. Looking at the other way, that would lead to a lonely isolation that no one would like so better go to the jeopardy. I can do say that the formation of a new range of existence feels good. I just don't have to be afraid to give a gift. Well, I'm still preoccupied.
Taking care of the self gives fatigue, but knowing that the then will assure a good outcome, it makes me wonder why present has mistaken itself with the future and past. While tagging yourself with memories, you reside yourself to live with the past and keeping yourself ready for the next, you devote yourself to live within the unknown and might have forgotten how it feels to have something essential at the now. When you start to think of the past, you start at the end making it to have no sense and when you start to think of the future, you start to spare yourself to the nothing and rebel what is in the actuality. Just like the thought of having an adventure that the real thing to be in thought of is there could never be any adventures in life at all. I forget all things that are supposed to be essential for me.
Labels: Facing Inner Views
Erika Ruiz
Friday, November 02, 2007
stopped my idleness, starts
in doubting the self and wishing.
Everything was illuminated.
Steer with life
in the side of knowing
Leave it open and free
I will gain experience
I will gain history
Tearing hope
The faith, weakened
by a doubtful motion
in thought.
Set into one sky
in the side of unknowing
Tour to the heart and soul
Claim the first notion
I want to begin
I want to dream
Dying bliss
The vivid, prevented
by a promising dread
in fantasy.
Start imortally
within the side of being
Guide the breathe to the end
I will learn eternity
I will learn to fly
Hold the soft
solidified opaque
in subservience.
Do not cut the shy
Spineless healing, created
the wanted peace
in an insightful creep.
I want to feel
mystery as home.
The I admits the allegation.
This is a bizarre feeling of something like I'm being saved from the idleness the roaming projects, yet I'm aware it is taking me away from my normal and formal perspective. It is blinding me and creates brightness. I swore I told myself before that I do not need the light walking through the dreadful tunnel; that light would only make me close my eyes and would trigger me to falling and that the darkness creates its own light, better than the given lamp. Hitherto, I do not want it to leave. I want to think this is the miraculous creation of light of the darkness itself. How could it stop me from checking? It is very abstract. It is something that I don't know how to define either.
Labels: The Self to the Art
Erika Ruiz
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Suddenly, the dark-purple sky with its grungy gray clouds formed a what seemed to be a running enormous rabbit followed by a small rabbit-like layered clouds. The phenomenon made the favored undistinguished brown-black-white dog-cat go out of the wrecked and poorly-constructed door (can never be distinctive as a decent door). It was followed by Kevin the dog, a black and white puny old dog having three black spots, island-like, on his back making a somewhat figure of the Philippines. Kevin the dog chose not to go out, but just to peep at the outside. Samjoh made himself belong to the cats left outside.
Sanya was holding the dog-cat not to run and follow the cloud rabbit figure, until then suddenly she turned to let the dog cat ran instinctively running in circles and quite realizing nothing was there to be followed anymore, as the cloud rabbit figure ran away from the sight. The sky didn't change its color, but the rabbits were nowhere to be found.
They went inside, the cats still staying and staring at nothingness outside. The event went blurred and Sanya continued to create a song. Then her father appeared, n rage. Her father threw away his anger to the animals. The two pets went under Sanya's computer table, where she was attempting to make her song in the living room, facing the kitchen. Her father started pulling a chair, favoring the dog-cat, and put its legs in between Kevin the dog's body. He started scratching it painfully. Sanya told her that not to do it again and again that she lost her voice, leaving a burdened feeling in the throat. Her mother was just staring. Her father stopped when Sanya scratched his back with her pointy nails; for the first time, she had the urge to fight. Doing this in front her, her father went back to the kitchen, throwing some dibs of sufficiency to the dog-cat and leaving Kevin the dog into hoping an answer for his faithfulness. The building generations erupted Kevin the dog to sleep outside the house.
She remembered, far away from the hideous and mysterious subconscious that Kevin the dog was always patient and waiting. Yet because of his instinctive fear and whole-heart kindness, he never blooms out and the others will always be on the approved side. Kevin the dog was abandoned yet he still loved. He loved the wrongly forsaken and now what doubled the sin of his unappreciative companions. Kevin the dog died of aggressive and excessive unfathomable common summer phenomenon, which can be helped and assisted, but chosen not to for human comfort.
Sanya wasn't able to helped, conforming and making a mistake before her gift of empathy. She will never forget how faithful Kevin the dog was and even how the little instinctive being made her remember herself. It was an odd lesson. Kevin the dog became a childish adult to her, wanting heart over the mind. But she forgot about the song that she wrote. It turned out to be a mournful Monday throughout the dawn. It was an opaque view to a disturbed reality.
Labels: The Self to the Art
Erika Ruiz
