Las Aventuras en el Abismo Estrecho

Adventures on the Narrow Straights:
an analysis of the stretched abyss


makes you feel that way.

it's ambiguous. i don't want to give in to this feeling, it's too real. it's something that has permanence, that has substance... ironic considering the ephemerality that is its virtue. it's irrational, it's distant from any stronghold. yet it clings. it rejoices yet it possesses. it is too real in its grasp. i haven't held on to anything like that. only when i am the only one involved. as soon as there's another character it's not a monologue anymore. logical. but it changes everything. the little voice in my head talks back... but wouldn't start talking without me inciting it first. the dialogue is with my perspective. there is no third eye. the little voice responds but doesn't hold on to me, doesn't depend on anything, and my dependence on this conscience is completely within my control. there are no hidden corners of my conscience left to discover, it's grown to me, developed with me, and it comes when i need it. how do you hold on to something that holds on to you? it's levels and levels of clasps, or hooks, or snaps, or buttons. those junctions that are so nice but also difficult. how do you keep away from this attachment? how do you get closer? i like distance beyond the stronghold. the distance gives me the chance to forget that the other perspective is also important. this is my own movie! i like space. but this feeling is new, and it's real, and it's developing. how does a person survive after realizing that you need? that you don't want to undo the clasps? that you want him to be the little voice talking back?




Our house rocks when you want it to.

radiohead and beck.

do you think it might be safer if i sink into the couch?



huilen is weleens nodig

what was it that took over me? i felt like the world was crashing down to a certain extent. there was an intense realization, something that possessed me. i can't be dependent on my parents anymore. i depend on their approval, on their consent, for my own development. discussion is good, it has been so far. but there's a small difference when there's a dependence on this discussion. i need to pull away. become more me and not me without them. it's not fake. it's not a simulation of the real world. i need to enter the real world, without the strings attached. the strings that make me wait on their consent, live my life to please them. show them every move. i do what i do, i know what i know. they're on the other half of the world, for goodness' sake! there's a difference of how a budget works, how money flows. i'm their daughter, not an investment fund. i'm working hard to further myself. i'm not going crazy with going out, with anything. so then why feel guilty all the time?
that's what took over me. a tired feeling that my self was being suppressed by an invisible hand. laissez faire, the invisible hand will make sure that all goes well. that's too rational as well. there's not so much THINKING involved with leaving it alone. or any control. it's leaving me be, and then i'll have to figure it out.
if they believe in me, then they should believe in my own invisible hand.






In my Rembrandt and Vermeer class there is this distinct discussion on the expressionism of the face. We see the dramatist approach Rembrandt employs, giving the faces a theatrical emotion that is highlighted with strong lighting. On the other hand, Vermeer's faces have this tendency to avoid definition. His genre paintings of women in daily tasks such as making lace or writing letters give a kind of generic ambiance. We feel so identified with his characters, though. How come there is such an emotional value even though he doesn't give them volume or all the textures as Rembrandt does. Or even the facial gestures. What is it in a face that is static that makes us feel?