people are fighting terribly over earth when they will soon be surfing water. people are interested in suffixes, people are observing of arcs altogether too obvious. what I find of interest is the possibility that an apotheosis of the suffix is a means of belying or perhaps even intentionally safeguarding the fact that we are in a great state of prefix. it is always nice to see such sleights of apprehension made operative in language.
as for personal matters: yesterday afternoon my friend Emilia came by my house and sat for a while with a vase of daisies on the table. I told her I bought them at the start of this week to usher in new beginnings, which are symbolized by daisies as death-harkening. (this was something I remember learning early on as a child, passing Pushing Daisies posters graffiti'd in the subway, wondering what was going on in this ModCloth elysium sitcom, which naturally had an air of the unreal about it). after she left, I drew the Death major arcana card in the Trusted Tarot iPhone app.
Emilia says I subsist on daisy petals and homeopathic purplish vials. maybe so, or at least whatever I subsist on is the Narcissus (daffodil) mirror-image of certain commercials (BetterHelp, "Press Play" spots from Gilead for HIV drugs).
I miss the very tender, ethereal Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume ads from the early 2010s, many of which have, over the years, been scrubbed from the internet. their gentle tone of pubescent anomie endures in certain online fashions, much the way Viktor & Rolf flower bomb scent strip emissions stick around long after their magazine tacks have been lifted. yet while the original Daisy branding was nourishing and life-giving in its pared-down, light-washed delicacy, its most recent fall 2020 update seems all too saturated: the sky too blue, the grass too green, too Sound of Music teletubby in its messaging—having been released amid our forced embrace of virtuality. in general, commercials, and many other forms of media, have always dogged the living with ambient death; we experience them like hangovers, simulating fast decline into senescence. heightened tolerance encourages thirst and prolongs wear-off. thus I try to make a regular practice of the over-sensory hang-over's ascetic transmutation, wherein surrender to deathly ambience becomes Quantum Awareness. an epiphysis (pineal gland) ignited with multiplicities of virtualized or physically encased energy can, in the moment of encounter, be simultaneously turned towards nature: brushing through a meadow of daisies, as husks of all that is both infinite and temporary.
also, on Wednesday, standing with Emilia on the roof of the Swiss Institute during a torrential rainstorm I referred to some other Aquarian age ideas concerning individual versus collective imprinting. when we went to dinner afterwards she venmo'd me with the tagline "Aquarium" which I thought was hilarious, because I had been fantasizing that morning about ditching everything to visit the Aquarium on Coney Island—like I did as a kid and like Julia Roberts on her lunch-break in Closer (2004), when Jude Law tricks Clive Owen into meeting her there. Closer is a movie about internet connectivity, miserable romance, uneven artistic passion, and Americans in London, meaning it's a movie I know how to make, but wouldn't or haven't yet.
now it is Friday, day seven of a candle ritual I have been performing. the candle will rest til burn-out on the counter opposite the daisies, opening roads, I hope for the best.
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