Neon Codex

Where digital meets classical.

Filtering by Tag: dreams

July in Retrospect: Car Fires, Utopian Visions, and the Fourth

There's this quote at the beginning of The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin, where it gets its title. It essentially states, and I'm paraphrasing, that in Genesis the rainbow was a sign sent from God, a solemn promise, that He would never flood the earth again. That next time, He would simply set it on fire. Pardon my sacrilege, but that always struck me as kind of a fucked up trade-off.

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A Sketch of a Young Man in a Single Unbroken Block

Shiloh Promme would lay on his bed at night and stare at the ceiling, the light from the cracked bathroom door shining dimly across the impressions on the textured plaster. It looked almost like a lunar landscape in that light. At seventeen years old he was still scared of the dark.

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Why None of Us Want to Be Alone

I feel bad, simple as that. The who or the how of it ceases to be important on a long enough timeline, these things happen to us all many, many times over the courses of our lives, and begin to bleed together without identity. A minor heartache at best—let's call it a disappointment. The feeling almost becomes like a shapeless, faceless abstract; like a force of nature that exerts itself upon your life every so often when conditions are right. Rains that pelt the rooftops, winds that rattle the shutters and windows, but you make it through. These black-and-white phases of life that tilt and skip off of the film track from some caricatured notion of 1920's German expressionism; the cold, grey planes of Fritz Lang, the dark, delirious ruminations of Murnau—a loneliness so complete it's almost romantic, a misery so perfect it's almost artful. The depths of it can become sort of ridiculous. This is not quite that, if anything this is that in micro, a small pang of heartache, of longing. 

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What is Life?

So, what is all of this? What is it that we're doing here? That's really the question, that's what you're here and I'm here to find out, to talk about. I've been rolling the question of life around in my head a lot lately, one might even say that my life has been geared towards it all along.

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Los Angeles in Abstract

Who could one be, as he or she slips through the eye of this needle? Alive one moment, not the next, bounding between sleeping and waking worlds, dreams and reality, in confused instants. Blurring the two together, indistinct of time or place. A city of angels dancing on the head of a pin...

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