Ecstatic Solace

The habits of a thousand men make up for the demise of the illiterate
the white noise is irreversible
no thoughts left unreversed
there has been some light in the jungle of madness
pursuing the decay from the illusions of more
their plenitude sanctified through thy farms
      beneath mandibles, ashore from sweeps
      bold and lie, though sanctified at peace.
Ecstatic Solace
    Though bundled through time
i wish the universe unsolved

A good space needs some emptiness.

Happiness is elusive, small, fleeting.
Idea that happiness comes from the negation of noise and ecumbrance, not from a postive addition of things or even emotions. The need for absence for the mind to re-calibrate, re-compose itself , thus creating happiness: super-structures need a vacuum (empty space) to breathe, space to put elements on the side. The more elements, the more space needed.
A starting point for the feeling of happiness thus comes from small elements, a small positive recombination: a physical ease combined with a sight of something that works, a puzzle solved, a miracle of Nature that not only hypnotises us and make us dream and soothes us but more importantly  takes everything away and pushes the image of a large space in our mind, a sort of 'here you go, there is space, you _have_ space'. 
Loneliness and sadness comes from beeing in an unconnected void, not seeing the links tying the space to all elements. 
A small sparkle from a small image is enough, like a fractal image, it has contagious effects.
Space and time, you have space and time.


Essences

The largeness of mind space on awakenings is not replaced by a device meant to soothe emotions. It can only be matched through a similar blankness, with a distinctive bitter undertone that is accepted only thanks to the activity/active energy present on the primary surface. That blankness needs to be a matching openness: lines on paper, content of a book, ..etc i.e. a creation, not a simulacre, with its essential appealing overstatements. One can't create out of an intangible product nor from a simulation, with which even ideas are shattered.
There is an essential appeal to the aesthetic experience of creation which is what needs be fuelled, along with the magic of it.

Praise for an Acute and Fierce Concentration



The habits and mental habits and mental constructs of one grown man should be so far superior to the ones of the young adult and teenager and child, that they should repel all possible affects from the external world, and build with them a mental bubble so strong, like an iron dome, that only Efficiency lives in it and only Productive Work and Streams of Rational Creation follows from the Energy Within and all else is banned for the moment as non-needed activities and the focus and concentration is natural and painless and almost subconscious on the Tasks at hand, the Tasks under the eyes and heart and inside the Mind of the man, who knows better and knows where and how to focus and has forgotten the Time when all winds of the Mind were blowing in all directions like a diseased child suffering from ADHD where dirt and romance and war and softness all mingled inside the same activities and music confused images and all senses fired randomly and there was no silence, no calm Within It and we just wished for some Peace and it wasn't all that bad at all as we were used to it, but The Man, all grown up and with an Acute and Fierce Concentration, like a laser that does Not _deviate_ and does not chime in with the qualms mercilessly brought by Life and The Noise of it with all its Stuff and annoyance of basic things continuously surrounding us and The Shapes and Forms of Things non-stoppingly repeating their insistence as if we needed a different Conductor but ours is already pretty good actually, we just don't remind ourselves of it, and That Man is us really, it's just that we like to digress, to be honest with ourselves. 
This isn't a praise but a game with ourselves.

Variance in Streets

Assuming american streets are organised in a straight lattice, and European streets are disorganised curves of various lengths.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA
TOULOUSE, FRANCE


American streets draw themselves out towards infinity, more powerful than man, godlike.
European streets, bent, recede and are supplanted by buildings and houses, are more human and mysterious.

   Emotion: to feel human and powerful or feeble, facing the night in the city.
At night, American streets emphasise far-away lights. Each crossing offers mirages built with the accumulation of traffic and street lights off four directions.
The urban pace was latticed for ease of simplicity and to put liveable areas under control. 
The result is an impenetrable infinity, illusionary and magic, a New and Unnatural World.

The European street follows the pedestrian and ascribes familiarity to his journeys (brings easiness of recognition, especially to the natives). The mystery of curves is easily solved (one just has to look around, walk from different sides, to lean,...) and is familiar and harmless. (The European street mystery is in the negative elements: lights, compositions of buildings and surroundings. The American mystery is more obvious, in the buildings themselves: colours, signs,..etc)

The American street is one of the future, functional (effective) and automated: the paintings of driving indications align with electrics wires, pavements: it is an electro-physical field, cultivated, perpetual.

The European street traces its objects almost randomly. Each street and piece of street presents itself as an individual combination. 

American city: a giant organism, neutral at core, accepting, like its inhabitants, thus chaotic.

European city: an image of war, fights between streets and buildings, and buildings between themselves, grown together or against each other.

WRITINGS FROM THE VOID


Dark Portrait of a world where nobody cares. Cold desert, ghosts. No connection, extra-lightness of being. Pain from living within the absence. Winds and voids resemble social lives. Shallow creatures.

I imagined a symbol and thought it would solve our problems: inverted lines of thoughts. I believe in randomness.
There will be nothing, and there will be something. Voices are only heard at night.


Dark Blue Leaves.
A swimming pool.
A frog captures the insect.
So long (Rest in Peace).
Moon watches, smiling.
The water in the pool is intact.


Words, mysteries abond, vagues unidentified, sytlistic expressions of wanderers. 
I worship your presence when you're close, to me, and ignore you, unconsciously, otherwise.


Moved by passion, we were rethinking our lives and structured our futures, pushing ideas so well established that they really had never seen the light. An invisible undulation of senses and stimuli had gone through and through as much as it had reached our core senses.
This was a start of changes, the unstoppable play of shape and content, like burning over a camp fire. There we were, small and glowing in ourselves, with visions unanticipated. The Mastery of Life wasn't far ahead anymore. We saw them: the transparent arcades of creation surrounding.

Night on Earth


Douwe Eisenga WIKIPEDIA     http://www.douweeisenga.nl/Douwe_Eisenga/Blog/Blog.html
Piano Concert : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gdec8es1qjM (part I...etc)

The opposite of Verklarte Nacht

   A few men operate in silence
    And the moon is not glazed at, and no women are saved
      And babies are not born there
    And nothing is forgiven