future hazy · ask later

A couple of people asked what that last commentless entry is about, with its air of evasion and little smiling smirky obscure quotes and its little appended PS and it's now very locked nature.

Simple and succinct is how I draw and how I normally try to speak and write. But my reflexes and instincts these days say that nothing truly, truly, truly important and powerful should be said simple, succinct, and direct. Not the first time, at least. Clarification and boiling down after the enshrouding obliquity, yes.

But it was so itchy in my head with potency that words and concepts and hints from it had to come out and dance and play and obscure in public, cloak and mask with reference only I would absolutely get and maybe the one who saw the Leviathan it heralded would get, to the deep one and to things and shards afar and borrowed. Even that one getting half or any of the outside references wasn't the point; making them and playing with them and leaping across three and never showing all my work was. Me dancing words because feet were cold, because loading attempts at crystal prose into supersaturation is exercise worth taking, because metaphors used for some duties need breaking and re-forging before ever carrying weight again. Significance? Metaphor's true freight? I'm sorry, no guided tours tonight. If you, dear reader, care for me even halfway, please keep speculations and rumors of Leviathan unsaid, ask not and receive no blunt evasions. Fnord.

Or just call it an exercise in automatic writing and sowing confusion. Enough was. Enough of this too.

No undo.

crisivore

I hate the fact that a part of me thrives on crisis and pressure. Before I'll lift a finger to do certain things, everything around me has to be right up against what's possible, and I have to twitch and stew a little while I watch it rise instead of working, and then I shrug and amble into blurred action. And you almost forget I'm half of the cause of the crisis I just rescued in the first place. I wish I could start working in casually bite-sized chunks at a sane rate, but I just fucking hate wrestling that damned Flash interface so much... I need crisis to kick me to do stuff I dislike.

One of these days the flu (or other outside force) is going to strike then instead of being one of the things that pushed it all to the crisis point this time, and my reputation will crash along with me. I'm sure it's already well into the 'playing with fire' territory. After this past week's tale starts to spread it sure will be.

I would've started moving earlier but the flu knocked me out and jumbled up all the delicate balances that were nearly ready. And then Leviathan on Sunday. What a hell of a ride that week was. Nothing to turbo Disney gig (and pointers to interesting stuff starting elsewhere) to cold to reset to self-beating to spooky shit from the backbrain to Focus with a grin underneath...

Always let on you're a little crazier than you really are, if you're stuck with a 'wizard' reputation. When everything's on fire around you and you're deep in Focus on the Problem At Hand, people should be loathe to touch lest you bite like a Gila monster. The 'crazy' is a double-edged sword, though, I think it bit me a while back.