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Sep. 29th, 2002 10:58 pmI have uncovered a plot. A big smelly one. Adi wants to take over for Voldimort. And art supplies are not enough to distract her.
In other news- I am not capable of climbing a V2. How the fuck do people climb V15? This is inhuman, unnatural, and totally unfair. This means nothing to about 94% of you, but I'm ok with that.
I was trying to describe climbing to Posture Boy, and I ended up gesticulating wildly. It's just... you know?..... Like.... Only.....- and then you get it, and you're amazed that you're hanging from a two finger pinch crimp in an off width, and I lost you way back there, but that's what it is. And then you're flying! That's what its like, only you're hanging on for dear life, and you just feel alive. That's it- you feel alive. Mortal. It's cool.
"This is a good thing?" he asked and it totally brought me up short. I suppose that feeling mortal isn't good- really. Being terrified for your life (except that you're not, because the ropes there, and climbing breeds immortal people...) isn't your run-of-the-mill normal weekend. It's just one of those feelings.
Like theater.
Which I have a highly abusive relationship with. I hate theater. I (loathe theater. But I keep going back for more. And I can't explain why. I'm not a performer by nature, I can get up and do things, but I don't need to. I don't get high off it. It's just what I do. (And whine about insessantly.) I can't tear myself away, but I don't really enjoy it. Except I must, because I keep going back, and I can't really live without it.
When I look at a piece of art, or hear music- (the really good stuff, of course) I get shivers- like someone's walked across my grave. It's like the feeling you get when you read something horribly sad and disturbing, but lovely and lyrical and perfect. You're exhilerated, and humbled and brought down to earth, but you're flying. (I used that word far too often, but it's the closest I can get to describing it.)
I was hoping that typing it out would help me to articulate it. I think I just made myself frustrated. It's... just... like.... Gah. You know.
In other news- I am not capable of climbing a V2. How the fuck do people climb V15? This is inhuman, unnatural, and totally unfair. This means nothing to about 94% of you, but I'm ok with that.
I was trying to describe climbing to Posture Boy, and I ended up gesticulating wildly. It's just... you know?..... Like.... Only.....- and then you get it, and you're amazed that you're hanging from a two finger pinch crimp in an off width, and I lost you way back there, but that's what it is. And then you're flying! That's what its like, only you're hanging on for dear life, and you just feel alive. That's it- you feel alive. Mortal. It's cool.
"This is a good thing?" he asked and it totally brought me up short. I suppose that feeling mortal isn't good- really. Being terrified for your life (except that you're not, because the ropes there, and climbing breeds immortal people...) isn't your run-of-the-mill normal weekend. It's just one of those feelings.
Like theater.
Which I have a highly abusive relationship with. I hate theater. I (loathe theater. But I keep going back for more. And I can't explain why. I'm not a performer by nature, I can get up and do things, but I don't need to. I don't get high off it. It's just what I do. (And whine about insessantly.) I can't tear myself away, but I don't really enjoy it. Except I must, because I keep going back, and I can't really live without it.
When I look at a piece of art, or hear music- (the really good stuff, of course) I get shivers- like someone's walked across my grave. It's like the feeling you get when you read something horribly sad and disturbing, but lovely and lyrical and perfect. You're exhilerated, and humbled and brought down to earth, but you're flying. (I used that word far too often, but it's the closest I can get to describing it.)
I was hoping that typing it out would help me to articulate it. I think I just made myself frustrated. It's... just... like.... Gah. You know.
