i never knew what it was like. it was an experience to be let alone.
when moving to a new city, there are a few things you will discover. if you are alone, you will probably find yourself alone for a while until something like a job or school brings you in closer contact with people. if you arrive with 'strings attached' (ie. friends, loved ones left behind) you will immediatly find yourself deprived of live visual and vocal contact. furthermore, you will find everyone you meet in this bright new town will be somehow pulling you away from those hundreds of miles away. and vice-versa.
it's always lit in the city. you can travel at any hour (near, far--public transportation provided) and you'll always see your way home. orange will be your new favorite color and you will sleep no more. you will begin drinking coffee immediatly and probably start smoking if you don't already. it's nothing to be afraid of. these are the least of your worries.
the problem with leaving for a new home is everything new. it's much easier to start over than to conform the old with the new. sometimes it's already half conformed. say you get your start in the city via friends of friends. there's no way out of this one. your stuck with everyone old, whether you like it or not. new talks to old, old to new, you to old, new to you. now there will be nothing wrong with these people. and nothing wrong with you. it's just your personal life is gone and you will probably lack much privacy. it's all one open community. your home is one room. you will resort to sneaking out the back door, taking the long way to the subway station, and wishing you had friends outside of this traffic circle. you're stuck on the inside lane.
there were millions of orange lights floating they were floating above us us racing through empty black stretches stretches of pavement asphalt burning our tires it was wet slick outside
perspective and light mix to move they were random moving patterns and somehow permanently fixed grounded
(i forgot to check the tire pressure.)
i never wanted to smoke. i was just curious. i wanted to figure it out, to understand it. now i hate it. i got through nineteen cigarettes before it happened. i had two camels in two days. they made me sick to my stomach. now i hate even the thought of a cigarette.
"it could be anything. art is not simply limited to 'hands-on.'"
but she didn't agree with me.
i told her i agreed with her. i don't think she heard me, or didn't understand, but my realization was there. i don't know how well digital art can hold it's own weight. there's too much shit that goes along with it, all this internet hysteria, etc.
but i suppose... it is one of the youngest forms of expression. some find this untouchable medium as their outlet, the form in which their emotions are communicated.
there is so much more going on, an embracing and mixture of all forms and strokes. it is the great combination, the flux, the generalization of everything that is called art.