ambient life

redeemer (palette cleanse)

Done wrong for years
and now we’re here,
conjuring up excuses
over whiskey & mountains
of discarded cigarettes.

       I sat back
       watching trails of smoke
       billow forth
       from a mouth manifesting
       mirages
       of reconciliation.

Warring bodies
assume natural states,
no longer plagued
by incessant nagging
of egos damaged
beyond recognition.

       The wreckage
       was quite beautiful,
       broken glass shimmered
       as winds howled
       through fist sized holes
       in cheap plaster.


Armistice allows
for elaborate silences
to be explored,
mined for all their worth,
just as times before,
when love’s thirst
lead to fits
of glorious madness.

        Yet still,
        you could not fathom
        how this could be,
        and there was no other way
        to spell it out.

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Coldworld - This Empty Life

Your empty eyes can’t bare no sight 
Your empty hope can’t speak of her
Your empty heart can’t bare a life,
You’re good as nothing, makes you cry
This empty life 

Entering the park, you strip away the layers of your vision.

Gone is the default public layer which would tell you where you are, what time it is, what the weather is going to be, where to walk to best avoid crowds. Gone is the layer provided by the park specifically, which would attach to each bird and tree a label indicating its species and providing various fun facts, and which would show you the history of each bench and sculpture. Gone are the social media layers giving windows into the lives of your friends, gone are the couple of augmented reality games that are normally an ambient presence in your life. You keep on an emergency layer, so that if someone needs to contact you or there’s a disaster, you’ll know. But otherwise reality is stripped down to its bottom layer, the shared physical world you can’t choose to opt out of.

You sit down on a bench. Nearby, on what used to be a basketball court, a group of teenagers are playing a game. With all your layers off, you can only see half of what’s going on: You can see the players running around, but not the game world which coordinates and motivates their actions. Judging by their yelling and their gestures, you infer that they’re working together to defeat some large monster by casting spells at it.

One of the kids crouches and then jumps eight feet straight into the air. You’re not old, but you’re old enough that this seems strange, all these human bodies doing things that human bodies can’t do. It’s often said that such augmentations are improvements on evolution’s work (the less blasphemous cousin of an older boast) but you know that that’s not really true. Modified bodies like the child’s consume more calories and are more damage-prone. In an environment like the one their ancestors evolved in, they would probably have starved to death or been immobilized by injury. Now, food is plentiful and deadly injuries are rare, so such concerns are less of an issue. It’s not that augmented bodies are better than unmodified ones in an objective sense, just that they’re optimized for a drastically different world.

For all the yelling of the children and chirping of the birds, there’s a certain quietness to the world stripped bare of its extraneous layers. Watching a small flock of birds peck at birdseed someone scattered in the grass before you arrived, there’s a certain… You don’t want to say realness: You know better than to pretend that the things that happen in the other layers are unreal, and you’ve only recently kicked the habit of calling the base layer “the real world”. You don’t want to say authenticity: You’re pretty sure those are starlings, you know the whole stupid story of how they came to be in North America, and there’s nothing authentic about it. But there’s a concreteness, at least, in knowing that those birds exist for everyone in the park, and not just for you.

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If you cant attend life drawing sessions. This is the best thing for you

Let me show you something I recently found : Croquis Cafe!

You get to see models of different colors and shapes in a life drawing setting. They move and breath while posing (breathing like in real life :O) ambient music is playing in the background and you have 1, 2  and 5 minute sessions. I find it very helpful , you should try it.

Play-Write

There is this reoccurring
Dream that haunts my soul
Takes place upon a stage,
In auditoriums accreting the
Ambient matter of life arising
From a script, oratories that
Contravene my understanding
From too many re-writes –
Invariably I am always
Entering an empty house
(a dress rehearsal?)
From center stage right
As the Leko’s burn from the wings
Spraying cadmium oranges
Against manganese blues filtering
Gobos that play the light in fog
As if I am in a forest
And then the lights go out as
I face the empty seats and blindly,
Trustingly walk downstage
Toward an instinctive understanding
So that, in my waking hours
Of searching for grand meanings,
The black entity of those theaters
Swallow all my fears and self-doubt
And I embrace the serif of illusions
Like the blue, blue grosbeak
Awakening to Spring.


© K. James Ribble  4.12.17

niallspringsteen  asked:

maybe things you said after the end for lilo, or things you said with miles between us for nouis? lOVE U

things you said with miles between us for nouis

The first text Louis gets from Niall in two months is a selfie of him looking sunburnt all to hell, with a generous helping of stubble on his face and the stiff hair he gets from saltwater. He looks at it for fifteen straight minutes, memorizing the blue of his eyes, the cut of his bare collarbones, the dark roots peeking out more than they’ve any right to.

Then he shoots off, looks great lad ! and throws his phone to the side.

He meant to sleep in this morning, snatch a few couple of precious hours of sleep before he goes over to Bria’s to get the little lad. But instead he’s up at 8 am, hating himself and thinking about Niall.

Not hating himself because he’s thinking about Niall. He thinks about Niall often. In a friendly sort of way, in that way where you think about your mates because they’re your mates and you like thinking about them.

He thinks.

It makes sense, in a way, Niall’s fucked off somewhere and not told anyone where he’s gone. Or at least he’s not told Louis. He said he’d do that, he’d lose himself out in some small corner of the world where no one’s going to take his picture.

I’ll come looking for you, Louis had promised. He hasn’t even made it out of LA yet.

He doesn’t need to follow Niall around anymore, really. He’s traveled the damn planet with Niall three times over, and he’s got to settle down now. He’s got to grow some roots for a while, tend to his family. Become a homebody for the first time in his life. Even if that does sound more exhausting than touring.

He doesn’t expect his phone to start ringing, but it does.

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