Spirited Away

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Beer street: super touristy—overpriced food, grace alcohol deals, loud music, colored lights, circus fire breathing and strip clubs

Walk down Bui Vien Street in Ho Chi Min City and your entire perception is transformed. The same experience occurs in Phuket as well on Bangla Street. The regular streets are filled with small shops and malls but turn onto this street at seven in the evening and Vegas takes flight on the other side of the globe.

The long strip of an endless supply of bars and strip clubs. The music can be heard from just behind the street sign. It is entering another world. A block over and silence brews. Darkness fills the air. Sleek quiet as motorists swoop by. Locals sitting down for a supper at McDonalds and others walking from the mall. Bui Vien is a gate to another dimension. Suddenly, colors fill the night sky and booming music is non stop echoing across the pantheon of alcoholic venues. The night sky is no more. The moon is brightened by the color schemes from the disco lights permeating the entire strip. It is a long walk but the new world is an extension of naughtiness. Enter the angelic plaster of color and fun. Away from the gloomy silence outside.

Each side of the strip is packed with different forms of entertainment. Incredibly repetitive and endless. A pattern of restaurant, bar, strip club repeat. Consolidating the naughtiness in a single dimension away from the public eye. A street that scares locals and entices foreigners. Outside each institute is a representative or two attacking the visitor. Come here and try this. Guiding them in their broken English. Don’t worry you’ll like this. We have this deal tonight. You’ll get to see something nice and maybe something naughty. Catering to the western familiarization with jam packed noise and alcohol. You won’t regret your choice to dine with the devil. 

The visitor has no idea what he has gotten himself into. He is hounded at each joint. He can’t even move a few feet before being confronted with an offer. You know you want to. Just try a little bit. There is so much to choose from. Don’t like the dancers here go there, the chairs are uncomfortable here go there. There is but possibilities block after block. As long as the street is straight moving vertically the bars persist. The music bears down on his shoulders boggling his mind. It sounds good, the reps are sweet. They have a good deal why not try. It is a tourist trap. Captivating with a theatrical set. It seems familiar and it seems enjoyable.     

English music and English titles deceive the foreigner. Something that I can get behind. Someone understands me. Sweet for escorting me. It plays on the senses of the foreigner. Loud music and booze. A classic tale of collegiate experience. The fragment of Vegas presupposed on a single street. A multitude of vendors, so much to choose from. Capitalism at its finest. Feel right at home. Don’t find a local area and try something new, go for familiarity. Go for the comprehensible. An area buttressed by its lingo. A directive for foreigners to feel solace. Even the non-partier feels peace for its western mastery.

A plot to gather all the foreigners into a single an area. All tourists meet in this middle. This is where the cool stuff is happening. This is where it is popping. Popular but crowded with tourists. It is a popular place for familiarity. For the homesick to receive relief. A taste of home in a foreign land. Strep through the door and find the humbling recreation of home. A toxic place for expense and experience but a place for relaxation and rejuvenation. So far from home a few extra bucks for a peaceful evening of youthful spirit goes a long way. It is but the western visualization. A paradise in nowheresville. A baseball stadium in a field. 

Yet it’s not home in the truest sense. It is home for the youngster. The collegiate experience re-experienced. The aspiring Tourist to feel young again. Entering a dimension disassociated from the elderly instability. Lost youthful fire. No worries, this dimension is reinvigorating. Here is collegiate experience 2.0. Here is a way to feel young in a foreign land. The fountain of youth in a desert. Young adults to grandparents walk down the strip reliving their glory days and making new memories. It’s a pastime of joy and fun. The strip recreates a new moment. For the elderly to accomplish the feats of their youth. Get a lap dance, chug a bucket. Just have a good time.

It is a circus. Fire breathing and music entice the visitor. A circus of youthful spunk. Representatives inviting though visually incapable to a good time. Come inside and your dreams will be made. You will accomplish and be ecstatic. A great sales pitch but bolstered by the surrounding variables. Engulfed in the youthful vigor. The elder jumps at the chance. Get me two shots no chaser.

"Real Life" Heroes

By: Jonathan Seidel

The allure of Japanese culture: hyperreal anime and fiction 

Japanese anime is beloved by westerners. Its fictional two dimensional layout in various genres captivates the young crowd. Cartoons with violence and gore. Adult generated content that focuses on storylines of all walks. A graphic novella sprouting countless manifestations. Its enjoyment is the fictional layer of fantastical aspiration to the real. The level of impossibility but yet plausibility compels the correspondence between fan and fiction. 

Anime is the outgrowth of manga. Manga is the graphic novel. The cinematic adaptation is the animated creation. It is the graphic novel coming to life. For the favorite characters to be on the big screen. To have a soul or their own. No longer are they mere drawings. They are not stick figures with a thought bubble but have a human figure lips moving. Heroes are translated straight from the page. Beloved heroes are pictorials with moving parts. No longer a body without organs. A personality takes centerstage. Connecting is deeper with a mobile presentation. A bring opposite the viewer worthy of respect. 

Novel adaptations shock the audience. Die hard fans aggravated with the piercing result of the cinematic decision. How the director casted the heroes to deteriorate any faith. What was he thinking. What shame he has brought to the franchise. The disconnect between the fans and the director will forever be present. The director takes the project to his agenda while the audience is left hoping for an adequate representation. It is always a subjective aspiration from the readership. Each reader covets a different persona but there is a collective acceptance of the plausible spectrum. 

A director who exceeds the quote on quote acceptance spectrum whether through a wrongful casting or deviating from honest material creates friction between fans and the director. The readership has reverted to defensive idolization or the book. Undermining the director’s innovative mood. Readers desire a realistic portrayal. They do not want a new story just a visualized one. Diverting from the book narration is a slap in the face. While it need not be perfect and the readership though critical to an extreme can sympathize with the director’s attempt but once they create their own narrative the readership has lost faith and believes the director has betrayed the original for his own prestige.

 

Concerning anime it is quite different. There is no imagination. The visual is illustrated on the page. The director has little leeway. Any distortion of the graphic novel is a corruption of the material. There is no creative differences but an entirely different hero. The illustration ought not to be distorted. The anime lover solely wants his heroes to come to life. For them to supersede the page. Unlike novel adaptions with uncertainty in between, graphic novels deal differently. There is not only an aspiration for the novel. There is is no real consensus but a collective deduction of its plausibility. 

The illustration of the graphic is the translated picturesque to the video. Love for fictional heroes with personality solidifies the relation between them while the cinematic adaptation obscures the character. The anime fan enjoys his heroes with mobility. With more passion and emotional development. The depth of the character is linearly evaluated. It only emboldens the character. There is little disconnect nor distortion of the character. The imagined character is not deterred by a false objectification. Instead it is a familiar character magnified. A character with more spunk and more connectivity.

Translating the fictional drawing to fictional animation is to apply a video style to the created character. Yet the draw of this is the fictional universe. It is the absurd illusion animated. It is the comic book strain on the big screen. Its interest is its unrealistic and idealist model. It isn’t about relatability. It is similar to the television shows with real people that confuse children from the cartoon they are used to. It’s off putting. The realism inhibits a genuine quality that is intentionally flawed. Why is fiction real personified? Why is cartoon replaced with relatable presentation? The realistic coordination causes a stir in the adolescent mind. It creates a formidable drama between the fake and false.

Anime remains fake. It is a dubious articulation. Yet it is the fiction that maintains its link amongst the viewership. The audience acknowledges the fantastic elements which only cause the viewer to aspire for the fictional impossibility. It is not something to mimic but to revel. Dressing up for conventions is to animate fiction into the sublime. It isn’t a hope for the real deal insofar as the realistic falsity. It is purely the dream that causes such imagined marination. Connect to a fictional character by the means of never being that character. By being out of reach the viewer idolizes. By dreaming the viewer illuminates. An engrossing narrative with wild aspirations that will never be achieved by the viewer.

Fans are obsessed with the projection of the real. The symbolic remains the drift between animation and real life. A Space Jam type on screen. It is the reflection of the cartoon meeting real life, yet both are fiction. On a deeper level MJ is real in the film and afterwards. A documentary with cartoon characters. Blending animation with fiction. Yet the question for the anime fan is whether he wishes do plot Space Jam or be animated. Does he wish to live in his flesh or become a sketch. If the latter is true, it only solidifies the distance between the fan and the characters. He can idolize them from afar because he can never be animated something his mind conjures. His dreams formulate his longing for animation. An impossibility realistically but not in his creative imagination.    

Anime is the aspired will of impossible transformation. There is only so much that can be mimicked. The characters can only come to life in identification. They are illustrations. They are posters by one’s bedside. If that celebrity would notice. The adventure and growth before the viewers’ very eyes. Even the sexualized female characters epitomize this negative expectation. How lucky the character is to have a harem of females fawning over him. He is a loser who is incidentally rewarded. The desire for that which seems implausible to the viewer. Can the biggest loser come out on top through hard work and dedication. Can he exceed the bounds of viewer aspiration. 

Anime exists as a production of preliminary wonder. How can the implausible be so simple. Through a foreign setting and courteous plot line. This fiction is absolute fiction. It is illustrated and cartoonish. Yet the cartoon addresses core hopes of the viewer. The values exude from the drama. The aspiration is pointed upon. Dressing up as one’s favorite character has more to do with what they embody than what they look like. Beloved characters are those who provide substance. They are inspirational and relatable beneath the surface. Push past the animation for the valuational pull. The adornment veiled from sight hinted in dialogue and action. 

Fans know it isn’t real. Yet the credible values feel real. It is enticing and compelling. It’s a cartoon, the blood is obviously fake and the language foreign but the adventure is endearing. The simplicity is not the appearance but its tenants. Its value that is underscored by acknowledging its depth from afar. There is no mistake its fiction permitting the deeper message to be pronounced. It is hard to miss with so much irony incorporated. So much zeal influenced. The fan is intoxicated with the fond inspiration. Instead of looking to influencers for hope, he finds it in his beloved characters. Fiction is a favorite friend for guidance. 

Anime is projection of unattainable. Yet it is through that such impossibility that inspires the layer beneath. To enjoy the character and the adventure. To root and cry for fiction. An attachment of pure symbolic imagination. 

Childhood Copycat

By: Jonathan Seidel

Interpretative evolution: methodology and ideology (Sontag, 7)

Interpretation is a critical part of human development and moral fabric. How we interpret texts, events and others formulates our perspective on the world. How much do we imply our own biases. How often are we misguided by arrogance and stubbornness.  

Interpretation is based on lived experience. There is rarely a clean slate. Engaging situations with preconceived biases. Perception is skewed by a priori knowledge. While children may be innocent of this prejudice their parental education is embedded in their psyche. Corralled by consistent jargon the way they see the world is blurred by their own knowledge. Continuing traditions of one’s parents is itself a mimicking technique that has yet to detach from the parental mustered pride. Reality is a collage of perpetuated messaging. Tingling the subconscious to deduce truths without personally experiencing them. Spending so much time hearing without actually doing. A byproduct of our birth the child’s fate is sealed. He is but a cultivation of his environment. His innocence is muddied by unknown phenomena. Invading phenomena infesting his mind unaware of their presence. A servant to subliminal messaging. 

The child has little memory of his parents fierce words. The big no-nos in their rule book. It wasn’t specified but he felt the whooping he received. He felt the harsh breath voice raised in his ears. A roaring sound aching his head. The memory was recorded even if the image cannot be recalled. His mind highlighted instances of wrathful intent. Distinguishing between normal and radical behaviour. When did his parents grow extra angry. What set them off. Momentarily he can remember and avoid but in time he will forget. Yet the message beats into him. Feeling sorry for angering his parents he confesses He was wrong and he will do better. Whether he meant it or not he has accepted their frame. Subconsciously he has surrendered. He is at the behest of their way. He is at the mercy of his parental guidance. He sees the world as they guide him. Staying within order. Their words so impactful. In devoted love he follows their phrases. He curses and shouts when he is angry. He is only acting like his parents. Mimicking them in respect not in mockery. 

At first it just words. The child doesn’t really understand what he means. He is a copycat. Trying to fit in. Trying to be accepted. He craves attention. He is no longer coddled and wishes his parents to notice him. He acts like them to show that they have taught him well. It is a ploy but a respectful gift to those who provided for him. He is young enough to not fully grasp the absurdity of the phrases he has uttered. He simply follows by example. Monkey see monkey do monkey get in trouble. Troubled he reflects and learns the difference. He hears his father yell at his mother so he copies but his father scolds him. He replies it was an accident. Yelling at your mother is wrong. Never do that again. The child learns the difference between accidents and intentional. When he hears his father yell at the tv after a failed first down he copies. His father slaps him on the back good job son. Proud of his accomplishment. Different settings have different responses. Context is key. The learning curve is slow distinguishing by variables presented. Flying animals are birds but different birds have different names. Even though they look different they are all birds. 

Educational interpretation is sentimental to the child. Watching his father’s dedication to his favourite team every week yelling at the tv cheering inspires a devotion to the same team. He heart is set. He approaches the sport with routine passion. Valuing their play and capability. Like father like son. His mother watches the news every morning. His mother snarls at the television. Disgruntled from the political fabric. She says president bad. His mother smiles. He doesn’t know what it means but he gradually becomes aligned with her political views. Watching the news with her. The chain from parent to child is sacred. One of ingestion and embodiment. The child incorporates the nuances of what he hears into his worldview. Whether or not he understands what it means. His outlook on otherness is based on his parents’ position. He does not discriminate he only follows their lead. Yet dogmatically he holds to these views. His comprehension is loose but his illustration is exact.  

He accords his views with his education. With the nuances of his mentor objectives. He is innocent and immature. He does not know any better. In a humble acceptance of futility he adorns the perspectives of his parents. He trusts few and those few he mimics. His view is monolithic and sacred. He cultivates an echo chamber. The entire world is boxed in. Only what he sees by a specified few does he incorporate. His outlook is moulded by reliance on these few. These words are dogmatised. It may bore him but he finds them to be truth. It is in his immobile state that he internalises that which is abstract to him. He believes all that is outside himself. All that stands outside his experience has an asterisk. If he cannot dispute it he accepts its fact. His limited knowledge places much of reality in this sphere. It is the things that he can contest that are mitigated. What remains beyond his comprehension he applies to the meta-truth. The level of literal acceptance. His humility to his ignorance is stable. 

The disputable areas are those affecting him. If his parents force him to go bed earlier he may rebel. This trust is only relevant if it doesn’t affect him. His parents may say books are great but he doesn’t find them great. A parent may imply an ideal but he slowly learns how to act. He is habituated in a certain way. In the short run he pushes back but the child is powerless to make any change. Only those irritating aspects like reading a book or going to sleep early does he find a way around. As these are punishments on him but positives are marked with great significance. His perception is guided by how it is placed upon him and what others do. He is not angry that he has to go to bed early but because he is missing his favourite show or because his friend goes to sleep later. The detrimental impact is related to how it’s applied in other cases. His deduction is one-sided. It must be equal everywhere. If he can do it why can’t I. Wanting to be like an adult yet still immature. He doesn’t understand the full picture only what he desires.

Undisputed areas are a shock to him as he grows. He follows the insights of his parents. He has no one to contest or challenge his view. He believes he is right. There was never an alternative or any pushback. Even if he never uttered or understood, his first encounter with the otherness he speaks inappropriately unknowingly. It is only with lacking education or skewed education that the incidental words become internalised rhetoric. Whether or not a parent’s actions are intentional, his words regarding a certain procedure or person may be cynical in a moment that affects the child for his life. Infecting the child’s mind into a crude adult. A parent making a derogatory comment about a certain individual labels that person in a negative light. The image that word subconsciously remains in the child’s mind. A mother crying over a certain individual courses fury through his veins. No remedy means continued belief. Until the parent says otherwise the truth remains. Especially if the same issue persists it emboldens in the child’s mind. 

Children are innocent and ignorant. Easily swayed by action and experience. Events mark their territory in the long term memory bank. These perceptions are cradled into the subconscious cultivating a narrow world view based on adolescent internalisation. The immature audio translates experience into dogmatic belief. A difficulty when encountering the other.  

Silent Commentary

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

Narration and audio commentary

 

Burn Notice narrates Michael Westen’s post-spy life. Yet the narration is a little more than the visual on screen. The narration includes a second narration through the storyline. Michael consistently interrupts the plot to explain the situation. This commentary is akin to the commentators of a football game. The infiltration of narrational assistance bemoans the illustration.  

Authors narrate their stories through characters. The author decides how much of the worldview the reader sees. The author’s perspective is scrutinised and limited. The film provides the visual array only imagined in the text. The text can only suppose so much while the visual fills in the missing gaps. The author is the shepherd guiding the reader through the story. A guide leading the volunteers through the maze. A tour guide doesn’t take the tourists everywhere just to specific locations. Other parts of the city exist even if they aren’t screenshot. There are other elements to the story that are irrelevant to the plot. The author could have supplied more details about side characters but felt that deviated from the plot. The author has created the universe and concentrates on a singular theme. Focusing on a character and his journey. Other characters may enter the frame but they are reflected in his perspective. There are other people in the streets but it is the guide’s words that are listened to. The visitors reflect the guide’s outlook. 

An author can enter the protagonists’s mind. What the author wishes to show is the lone wolf hero’s journey. Sometimes other characters make an entrance. Some authors colour their characters others leave them as stick figures. The magnitude of a character’s importance generally rests on their engagement. How much of this second character does the reader learn about? How personal does the reader become with the character? There is a science to introducing the reader to a character. The author holds all the eggs and decides which eggs to give. They don’t allow the tricker treaters to grab from the bin but hand the candy out diligently. Selectively providing information little by little. This character gets a Snickers the other a Kit Kat. The fictional realm of the author is private. Only gradually is more information leaked out. The author intends to hold all the cards until the last turn. Unveiling herself in slow motion. The reader sits patiently receiving the information in small doses. Curious of the next step. 

The Great Gatsby is an interesting tale since it focuses on one character. Nick narrates his adventure from his perspective. It is made clear that Nick has biases but more so that he is not the main character of the story. Nick is the commentator for the tale of Jay Gatsby and the face of Leonardo DiCaprio. Nick is second fiddle to the awe-striking interest to the mysterious noble but it is Nick’s character that gains the most attention. While Gatsby may be concentrated upon in utmost urgency, Nick’s emotions are smeared all over the pages. He journals his experiences chronicling the events as they occur. Nick’s affair with Jordan Baker is overshadowed with Gatsby’s affection. Nick is not short of criticism. While he adores his cousin Daisy he sees her as careless and dramatic. Nick idolises Gatsby for much of the story but is also remiss about his dealings. Though Fitzgerald’s depiction only further places Nick as an observer and film critic trolling along as a paparazzi. The narration hides the true intentions of other characters only periodically hearing their thoughts. Nick is the primary source of information as a premier journalist. 

The film adaptation lends a new perception to the narration. Nick provides his audio commentary as the plot moves along. Similar to the book he is the ‘reliable’ narrator. He is an observer of the events even as he participates in them. Yet while he is a spy for the reader he is a crook for the viewer. The viewer sees the events and doesn’t necessarily need Nick’s voiceover. It only stands to question his legitimacy. The characters are visualised and examined. There is little that Nick can hide from the audience. The audience isn’t looking through a peephole but through military grade binoculars. In the movie if Nick isn’t present in the scene the scene still occurs. There is no reflection nor diary from Nick. Other events happen and the audience sees them. They are not waiting for their spy to return just trying to see the events with their technological abilities. Able to internalise the film’s visual personification. Extending the author’s universe just a little wider. Characters are no longer foreign species discussed but familiar voices. They speak with such profound being. Not puppets of someone else’s romantic drama. 

Burn Notice is heavily more narrated than Gatsby. Michael narrates when he isn’t even in the scene. Michael’s narration accompanies the subsequent event. He anticipates the scene by readying the audience through tactical education. The show’s use of the narration is to explain to the audience Michael’s abilities. The show isn’t trying to teach the audience but to magnify his ability. The narration is solely concerning spy work. How would a spy act in such a situation. These questions are answered by Michael's voice over the action alone. The screen even screenshots the actions in line with his narration. Lining up what he says with what is happening. Sometimes the show pulls a fast one and the action is thwarted by the enemy. Nevertheless, the consistency per episode reminds the audience of his veracity. Michael is a spy with years of experience. Even if it feels overboard it is unique to the show. The message is clear. Educate the audience of Michael’s speciality. He was an operative and despite his current demotion he still has the skill. He can still apply those skills in everyday life. Once a spy always a spy. 

The voiceovers are key to conveying strict intelligence to the layman. Apparently the show runner had a onetime spy as a consultant. Whether the advice was spy science or spy-like, the advice was personable. The audience was hearing straight from a spy how to be a layman spy. No need for covert missions or extravaganza in third world countries but things that could be done with simple gadgets bought from a hardwood store sitting in the garage. The advice was spyware from the master to the student. An educational tactic that honed in on Michael’s excellence. While they interrupted the show for a second they did deploy a curiosity into the audience’s mind. Wow that is cool. The show added a telling aspect that generally are overrun with showing over telling. An author is tasked with showing over telling but a film is by design showing thus the integration of the showing pivotally added nuance to the heavy illustration. Signifying the advice and then zeroing in snapshotting the device before executing the advice. It grew repetitive at times but it did portray a unique tale with expert intent. 

Sports commentators narrate the game. On the old radio the listener was blind to action. The commentator was the listener’s man on the inside. The commentator relayed the action to the listener in real time. Now with television the “film adaptation” the viewers sees what the listener hears on the car radio. The viewer doesn’t need the commentator because he can see the action. He sees the running back receive the handoff running for a short gain before tackled. He sees the crossover and the floater only to be swatted by the big man in the paint. The commentator is just saying what the viewer is seeing. For the blind it is helpful but not for the sighted. It seems unproductive. The opinions on different situations is fare. They have knowledge and perspective. Yet that is different from narrating plays and sequences. Alternating between the two is itself juggling ideas. Sometimes they don’t get their idea through because the play resumes. Needless to say some of their takes are awful. The narration is useless to those who can see. The commentator explains the visual to the visual. Their perception is directly communicated retroactively to the viewer. Since they themselves are viewers at the same time as the fan. It is bound to be repetitive.

There is a silver lining for sports commentators. Their narration is akin to subtitles. The viewer hears the characters speak but enjoys the subtitles for additional accuracy. Using two senses at once is better than using one. Hearing and seeing solidifies the truth. Sometimes the ears deceive and sometimes the eyes deceive. Having both senses activated is synonymous with success. Commentators are helpful for those who don’t understand. Those who are perplexed by the visual. Yet the commentators also provide some flare for the regular fan. Al Michaels broadcasted three decades worth of sports. His voice brings comfort and familiarity. His narration is an audiobook soothing in its continuity. It’s like reading an audiobook on a kindle. Following along in the text while the audio speaks. Dick Vitale is famous for his catchphrases and fun personality. Elevating the passion and joy in the fan’s heart. Sitting alone on a Saturday night in the living room with the lights out is brightened by a powerful voice of excitement. Some commentators say the right thing that encases the phrase for eternity. The slogan is remembered by memory over the visual. Play-by-play sounds tedious but swirled the emotion and gravitas of sports. 

Narration is but a purpose of guiding the visitor. The spectacle is attractive and enjoyed. The guide shows and tells of the great impact. A calming sensation and peaceful transition of internalised knowledge. A sacred dialogue between the teacher and the student. One that begins and ends with the plot but will forever be engraved.  

Stimulating Sensation

 

By: Jonathan Seidel

On Sublimity: religion and nature (Zizek, 228-30)

“The prince says that beauty will save the world!” One of Dostoevsky’s famous phrases with various interpretations. The transformative nature of beauty or the picturesque projection. Such optimism in the hedonistic outlet is overhauled. Beauty will instead destroy the world. Sublimity will save the world. 

Burke distinguished between beauty and the sublime as the small and the big things. Kant added overwhelming to the sublime as opposed to the nice beautiful things. For Zizek through a Lacanian lens sublime is boundless while beauty is bound. Beauty is harmonic while the sublime is chaotic. In the footsteps of Kant, sublime is the overwhelming terror. Beauty is the material as it is perceived to the naked eye while the sublime is the unutterable in the face of aspiration. Unable to voice the experience. The encounter overwhelming. Engulfed in the absurd breath of serenity. A matrix of sonic melody. Possessed by the experiential horror. It is the great force over the feeble finitude. The mortal gasping at the unutterable. Incapable of grasping its prowess. Beyond his comprehension perplexes his prefrontal cortex. Firing endorphins but cannot deduce their messages. Bound to the encounter with no explanation. 

Beauty doesn’t elevate to the prestige of the sublime. The sublime is a special place, a heaven of sorts that beauty only dreams of reaching. It is the surface level everyday niches. The niceties in the routine. It stands out against the ugly. It is no sewer rat. Beauty is poised. Crafty, well dressed and firm. Attractive to the passerby catching his gaze and she continues. She doesn’t look back but feels the gaze on her neck. She feels the stares and smiles. She looks good and she knows it. She is not obtuse nor ignorant. She is a masterpiece held with grace. Eyes lingering unable to tear away from his coercive sight. She is truly special. No doubt about her uniqueness. There is much to praise about her. She is sure enjoyable to observe. She enjoys all the fame that accompanies her appearance. She radiates light and chanting for her reciprocates her confidence. A projection of perfection fond to the eye. Caught up in her picture. She is truly amazing. Wowed by presentation. Jaw dropping and fascinating.  

She is respected to a degree. She is marvelled at but is passed by. She is a static projection that is forgotten after a few moments. Her memory is lost in the neurological tanks. Beauty is invading but is only so powerful as the stares persist. Beauty is powerful, she is captivating but her will is received. She wanders and hopes that people look. A slow day and there is nothing. A good day may receive grand gestures and applause but then the visitors leave. Beauty makes her way down busy streets but is just a face in the crowd. She does not amply receive the necessary looks she desires. Her shiny personality is infective insofar as the onlooker is concentrated on her, his phone rings and his focus gone. She has lost his attention. He is out of her sight and unaware of her presence. Sometimes she is on display other times disregarded. Her beauty is unparalleled but she must be noticed. She relies on others to acknowledge her but if they are not focusing they will not see her. 

Beauty relies on the other. It is entirely dependent on another’s urge for beauty. Do they look? Do they linger? Beauty can exist without others but who will compliment her? The tree in the forest may make a sound but if no one is there to hear it, does it really matter? Her beauty is almost insignificant if it isn’t utilised. What enjoins the energy and even the relevance in acknowledgement. Praising her for her gorgeous appearance. Lines drawn so smoothly coloured so creatively. There is little that she desires more than other’s speaking positively of her. Her self-esteem is contingent on reciprocated optimism. The other is fascinated by beauty and smiles at her. He compliments her eying her as she passes his field of vision. He is marvelled by her beauty. Another after him sees her and feels an uplifting sensation. Endorphins firing at her glorious presence. Each compliment visually or verbally sufficiently elevates her self-esteem. She minds nothing but the positive reactions. It is the interest of the other that keeps her guessing that keeps her active.

Her appearance is only as appealing as others believe she is. Beauty receives positive responses from some but others pass her by with no comment. Many ignore her presence while others retort at her appearance. Her beauty is subjective and individualised. Some see her in the angelic light and others revile at her existence. It is an acquired taste. Not everyone is fascinated by her beauty. Not everyone wishes to gaze indefinitely. Some find her appearance enjoyable for the moment. Even those who stare only a few are infatuated, less love. She is a site to see but in free time. Most others are busy. They do not have time to stare. A quick peek. A curious look but must be on their way. An enjoyable activity but temporary. They continue on never looking back. It was an interesting exhibit, nothing of note to remember. Others pass her by everyday and praise her. Beauty has a loyal following but they are few and far between. Less commitment and more periodic enjoyment. She can captivate some but many are unaffected by her charm. They smile at the lovely maiden tip their cap and head to work. Only a few linger.

The lingering few desire her. Obsessive to some degree. Beauty is enjoyed by a hypnotic spell. She has gained the attention of passersby but other aspects of life have overpowered her spell. She attempts to reassert her prestige but loses in the battle of the absurd life. The mind is too preoccupied with more important parts of life and thus cannot truly focus on her. Maybe in simpler times she would be more well received. She would be more appreciated. Times are tumultuous. Life is rough. She is a fine specimen to gaze from time to time but not something to hark on. She is some eye candy for quick pleasure. A temporary nicety but not something to bemoan forever. She picks her spots. Some areas are more infective than others. Toying with the other’s mind torturing him with the magnificent that stands before him. At times, he acts uncontrollably. He acts impulsively hurting her and damaging himself. Her attraction has tugged at his soul and confused his mind with despotic urges. He is infected and cannot look from afar. He must have more and deals damage. Beauty has victimised herself. 

How often does the other stop in the street? His desire flares as he sees the most incredible specimen across from him. He is lost in his thoughts. All the complexity is soothed by her appearance. Beauty has salvaged another soul. She is obsessed about and all the others desire to have her. With little distraction she is the centre of attention. Her desire to be enjoyed from afar has shortened. Others have encroached closer to her. Here magnificence has infected them drawing them closer. They are under the spell of her beauty desiring to have her in any capacity. Beauty is scared. She has objectified herself and now is being objectified. She has become the object of their imagination. If they can have her to stare at forever how lucky they’d be. What a lucky winner. It isn’t all nefarious but incredibly irritating. She is as she is. Beauty is but her incredible self. The desire is projected on her. A target ready to fire. She has lost her stage distance. She is on a mantel but one that the other wishes to hold to his whims. 

The other becomes Gollum polishing the ring muttering my precious. Obsessive with the gem wishing to control it. The inability to part with the shiny circle. It is the meaning projected on it. It is an overwhelming sight that is difficult to imagine without. He is corrupted by her beauty. While at first he was amazed by her beauty he kept staring. He failed to check his phone nor head to work. Hypnotised by her precious appearance. Defeating a foe for her honour. He wishes to possess her. Grabbing at the air hoping to hold her tight. Beauty herself desires distance. She is her subject not to be compelled by the other’s lust. She has become the object of controversy. Her relevance is in the visual paradise that she instils. How to look away from an angel. She has been regulated to a possession that can be bought. Her prestige lost. Beauty has written her own fate. Her existence is but a curse upon the heart of man. His desire claims her for his own. When she is noticed she deals damage and when she is ignored she offers nothing. 

Beauty differs from Sublime. Sublime does not stand in street hoping for passersby to notice her. She does not desire onlookers. She cannot be found by the other so easily. She hides and waits for the other to find her. She is passive and modest. She resides in the uncivilised war. She prefers the natural over the industrial. Sublime cannot be observed nor noticed. Most people will go through their lives and fail to encounter her more than a few times. She meets her prey for a quick moment and hurries along. She is so powerful than only for a moment can the other meet her. She is overwhelming and disorienting. Her appearance is not figuratively angelic but literally so. She is of the stars of the incompressible. She is not a god nor an overpowered hero but a simple hermit with extraordinary beauty. Her appearance is way too much for the commoner. She deserts to the remote areas of the natural showcase to live peacefully. Only the brave journeymen will be able to find her. She hides but she is happy to greet vibrant visitors. 

The journeymen do not expect to meet her. She left the village many years ago. Tales of her existence out in the remote areas are only folklore. She is but a story. A fascination to intellectuals and a fairytale to children. Yet she is indeed real. She lies in wait for visitors to come across her path. When they have reached the peak she attacks them. Scaring them into awe. Her presence so overwhelming they cannot speak. They are frozen, frostbitten, numb to her presence. They are paralysed into submission. Her strength is unmatched. Even warriors succumb to her might. Her attack is a gift. A reward for achieving the peak. Sublime is truly something. Stuck in place completely transformed. The journeymen take a few moments to gather themselves. They look at one another and scream the legend is true. She is alive. High fiving one another. One says look and they turn the eyes toward the horizon and are blow away. They are mesmerised. Muttering under their breath of angelic truth crossing themselves in praise. She claps as they tremble. She enjoys their patronage and respect. They descend the mountain anew.

The journeymen return and tell of their tales. They speak of her in abstract terms. Their memories become foggy and slowly forget her presence. They recall the view but not the power of her might or her paralysis. They saw beauty but they dumb it down. Unable to honestly recall the truth. Gradually her truth becomes a tall tale once again. New adventures happen upon her territory. She awaits them at the top. Can they surpass the difficult journey upward. Many fail depressing her greatly. She hasn’t played in a while and is lonely. She awaits her friends. She wishes to engage another soon. Her wish comes true as a set of hikers successfully reach her. She repeats her routine and captures them in a powerful hug. The damage is done and they are excited and astonished. They do not know what to make of it. They laugh and wave goodbye as they leave. Sublime is ecstatic. More visitors. Yet the process repeated itself. Her power is god-like. It is overwhelming and forgetful. In the moment it is shocking but afterwards invigorating. The hikers forget her but they always feel tingling when they recall the event. Their bedtime story causes a spasm that they cannot explain. 

Sublime spends most of her time in the countryside but she returns to the city sometimes. She especially loves weddings. She has always desired to be a bride. She wishes to marry and adores celebrations. She shows up just to shed a tear when the bride begins her walk to the canopy. She stands right behind her so excited for her big day. The grooms stares at his fiancé’s beauty and a rush of awe fills his eyes. He sees her alongside his future-wife. He is shocked and paralysed by her overwhelming beauty. He hopes this moment will never end. He indulges in the wondrous encounter. She has blessed the union and he is ready to accept his wife. Sublime smiles as the groom tears in manly gesture of bravado. He cannot look away, he is unable to turn his head. He is focused on her, obsessed in her presence from afar. Another win for Sublime as she takes her seat in the crowd. She loves bringing people together. He magic touch engulfs the emotional core with the subject. A wonder of mental fortitude that surpasses the boundaries of logical explanation. Her beauty becomes of the gods. 

Sublime isn’t interested in attracting attention. She is just having fun. She enjoys bettering other people’s day. She enjoys shooting her spells a little over here and some more over there. A little witchy but her wand is a personal charm. When others aren’t willing to come to see her she gets lonely and wishes to see how the village is faring. People are too busy too focused on the next job. They don’t even see Beauty. When she is feeling sympathetic she shines a light on a Beauty to enlarge her appearance. Sublime’s magic entices some passersby but Sublime recognises the danger and limits the ray. She doesn’t want Beauty to get hurt accidentally. She knows her powers are are strong so she keeps her distance but she cannot stay away forever. She has her moments but much of her time is in the openness of nature. Not tied down by any village industrial routines. Free to play and do whatever she wants. She enjoys the freedom and the autonomy it brings. She radiates in the open air. A blissful sensation surrounds her exhilarating scent. A scent that can be smelt but cannot be experienced without reaching her atop the mountain.

Her displeasure with the village was their seeming abandonment of her. Unlike Beauty, she was completely forgotten. Whilst they may ignore Beauty at least they know she is alive, they do not feel that way about Sublime. They think her a myth. Discarded her from their memories. She walked around the village but no one noticed her. Her frequent wedding invitations went unnoticed except by the groom who immediately forgot her after the ceremony. For a moment she meant something. Something to a single person but that person only saw her as a means to his future. Sublime was but a faint idea in the villagers' minds. They were so engulfed in their own worlds they could not dare to remember her. She was their aid and their wisdom. She provided inspiration and tranquility. The village industrialised. Her insights were no longer needed. She was outcasted blackballed for her ideas. Her witchcraft was blasphemed and burned. In fear she fled. She hid away for some time. When returning, the villagers did not remember her. She was a ghost and walking spirit. She couldn’t be seen. She was lost and invisible to the naked eye.

She couldn’t approach, she could only be approached. She could be encountered but under specific conditions. Only with perfect concentration could an individual encounter her. Yet the encounters were overpowering and fearful. Experiencers were shocked and demoralised. Her friends became lost souls. They ignored her calls and sought to distance themselves burying themselves in the industrial world. Less access meant less friends. Sublime left the city in tears and searched for a new place to spend her wallowing days. She was hurt but not defeated. She found a mountaintop. Surely, those who climb will be worthy friends. Strong in character and ferocious to encounter gleefully. Sublime awaited her friends patiently. Her luck panned out and they came. They enjoyed the moment and left imprinted with her scar. When they didn’t come back she grew sad but soon realised her power was beyond the pale. She became content with the scar imprinted in their memory banks. They may not consciously remember but their tattoo says otherwise. She had so many friends even if they did not remember too adequately.

Even so, her friends spoke of her in majestic narrativity. Her tale spread far and wide. Her friends did not recall the overwhelming moments of serenity but they felt transformed and taught their children the truth of Sublime. Her amazing prowess and grace. She was a living legend even if she was hardly recognised for her true ability. Sublime was happy with those who journeyed to face her. Those who desired to meet her. She was famous. Even those who didn’t know of her were happy to have met her. She always left a positive mark. She was loveable and encouraging. Her wisdom and aid never faded. All who came to her were greeted and beloved. She wrapped herself around her guests and hugged them tightly. Embracing all who came to her. It is was the least she could offer them. She was famous. Though the mountain itself got all the credit. She was a ghost. She was an idea, a feeling. Something to feel at the peak of the mountaintop. She was the electricity powering the profound view of the horizon. The mountaintop was but a foundation for the overwhelming sensational greeting. 

Some time later, a mystic fed up with the industrial life deserted the village. He was searching for something. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he knew he could only find it away from the matrix of work. A world of endless labour and infinite items. Such was the world of civilisation. A world of routine and habit. One cursed to recycle the same old hobbies with new functions. Creatively spinning new products to capture the mind. How Beauty was excelling. Her products were falling off the shelves in droves. She simply retooled the same idea over and over. She was a mastermind. The desires of man were all too powerful. Beauty had escaped the savage life of late night crossings for the merchandise industry. People were simple just provide a nicety and people will drool over it. The mystic couldn’t bear the adornment. It was too overbearing. There needed to be something more. Something more than the a pretty watch or necklace. Trying to please or appease. 

The mystic found a quiet spot in the forest and began meditating. He was a bit impatient and found the stillness too burdensome so he stood and began wandering around whistling. Admiring the beauty around him. Nature was pretty cool. No need to cover the dull with profound colouring. It was normal and unique. It didn’t look too much nor out of place. He felt comfortable and soothed. Whistling became singing and then dancing. Sublime heard of his exploits and curiously descended the mountain to meet this interesting man. She found him sitting by a tree trunk humming an old folk tune. Their eyes met. He shook as if a lion hurled at him. He fearfully retreated into a cocoon. Sublime promised him she wouldn’t hurt him. He accepted her peace offering and praised her. He asked her to meet again and she agreed. The next day she did not show. The mystic waited and waited but he didn’t find her. Maybe she had given up on him. Maybe she had lied to him or had second thoughts. The experience was so great that he desired it again. He wished to meet her again so badly. He trained his mind and meditated. He hummed and danced. Clearing his mind and concentrating on his friend. 

Then one day, it happened. Sublime reappeared. He flung backwards as she tackled him. He was not used to her presence but found it riveting. She hadn’t moved in months. She had waited for him. She found a friend who desired her as much as she desired him. He jerked tearfully that Sublime was dedicated to their friendship. She had so much to offer and he to her. They met everyday. Sometimes they’d connect other times their chemistry was off. It was a matter of the connecting to the right voltage or the correct server. It wasn’t easy and was all on the mystic to push through the boundaries but he was committed. The mystic was overwhelmed but inspired. Sublime showed him much and he re-conceived his outlook. His world was turned nightside up. He found clarity that had been missing for ages. He was lost but now he felt whole. She had filled the hole in his heart. A missing piece reconnected and rekindled. He believed she could help others. He explained he would tell of her tale and bring back others for her educate. He waved goodbye and promised he’d return with a following. More friends for Sublime. 

The mystic returned impassioned and transformed. He began speaking to some about his new worldview. Most ignored him some refuted but a few enjoyed his tales. He spoke of Sublime to a niche group. Many who were annoyed or overburdened by the industrial ethos. Looking for a new path. Willing to take a risk. He wished to preach publicly but believed that would stir most hostility. He returned to the forest with a small group. His group was confused that there was no one there but the mystic reassured his new friends that they would soon meet her. The mystic taught his ways some were successful some grew impatient and left. Others angrily quested their own methods and excelled. The mystic’s group grew and became unified with Sublime. Her presence was felt and enjoyed. A wave of serenity engulfed the spirits of the committed group. The mystic’s pupils wished to continue sublime’s messaging. Wishing to connect them with her from anywhere. An aspiration for Sublime to become more famous. Sublime countered that it wasn’t to be a massive calling but a recognition from one to the other. By seeing others beyond the presence. 

Nevertheless, They rushed back to the village so excited to educate the public. They reached the city and forgot the education. One look at Beauty and they were thrown back into their former place. All their education was for naught. Ready to disseminate the message but overridden by Beauty’s impulse. Their message was quickly replaced with the shiny adornment. They were soon engulfed in the merchandising experience. The enjoyable desire of the projected object. Sensing the benefit of the object as it mounted in their palms. Beauty provided the soma necessary to survive. Do not worry this will improve mindfulness. They were naive and lost. The mystics pupils were deserters, hypnotised unable to relay their message. The mystic himself tried to regather his lost pupils but they were far gone. Beauty has spellbound them. Beauty’s calvary ran the mystic out of town. He returned to the forrest dismayed. Sublime tried to cheer him off but he wasn’t trying to connect. His view was riddled with emotional turmoil imbalanced and depressed. He could not be the only one who saw the truth. He could never go back. His pupils were on track but were nowhere near his prestige nor awareness. He was alone in the universe with Sublime.    

Sublime is an overwhelming feeling of bliss. Caught in a temporal experience of beyond-ness. The sublime is veiled in the industrial areas. It is not the basic beauty that is noticed nor the shiny polished money grabbing items that attract attention. What is beautiful is what the individual can grasp. It is a desirable outcome to hold. Sublime is the aspirational mould. It defies the expectation. It is the momentous view of a waterfall or a valley from a mountain top. It is the unexpected that transitions to the wow moments. The real is too much to bear. It is the wonder of the world so routinely hidden from plain sight. Only out in nature, only away from the life-sucking routine, can it be enjoyed. So unexpected the sublime attacks overwhelming the individual. A force striking the spirit, electrifying the mind towards the serenity of the horizon. A paralysis that is eased into the mystery of the world. They mystery uncovered is more than bargained for. What is truly marvellous is that simplicity that garners so much joy. So much glee engenders spasms and choked up tears. The peace wonder brings is the normative nature. It doesn’t shine but it is bright as a star.

The beauty of the other is the semantic projection of appearance. The sublime is the deeper layer of personality tied with integrity. People radiate. Those who love and smile thoroughly. Those who enjoy life and bring joy to others. It isn’t about activity but proactivity. It is the joy of otherness and making it known. The sublime is the moments of genuine sparkles shining. A face of gold is one glowing with delight. The bride’s face to the groom and guests is different. The guests see her makeup enhancing her beauty. The groom sees her totality imprinted on her face. Her face radiating light of warmth and love. Their gaze linked with passion and impression. The sublime anchors the experience. It is not about how something looks but how it feels. How it manifests internally. How the narration elevates and expands. The sublime is a holistic doctrine. It is empowers and exceeds. The sublime is not rooted in a worldly endeavour but in an otherworldly connection. An unconscious telepathic link to humanity. De-rationalised reactivity. Enjoying the moment instead of pondering the next. Living instead of questing. 

As the mystic taught, do not see the tree for the tree but for the soul it inhibits. The entire world lives on two axis. There is the material beauty and the spiritual sublime. The perception of the material beauty concerns the tree for its utility while the sublime sees it for its existence. The soul of the tree is a manifestation of the universe. It is rooted in the core of its foundation. An important part of Earth’s ecosystem while also providing positive functions for humanity. The tree provides oxygen and pastures. Homeostasis for other living animals and guards against sunlight. The soul of tree is unified in the Earth’s core alongside the human. Both live and die. Both mortals with destinies. Goals and souls. To respect the world is not devolve into some ascetic monk but to be conscious of the spiritual avenue. The world is more than just a material beast. It has much to offer and connects all lifeforms. There is but a single universe with living things to dwell. Harmony is only achieved if the soul is perceived. If appearances pierce a little deeper than the ogled beauty. Can’t stop short of the puzzled poison.       

Sublime is the level above beauty. Beauty ought not to be discarded but realised in a new light. Perceived through the subliminal projection. Articulating beauty as a whole with all the variables accounted for. A marvel indeed. A genuine picture of reality that captures its essence in a montage of footage. Beauty is channeled through a purified medium. A spiritual guide to re-ordain beauty in its heightened form. Pleasure through displeasure. The grit and muddy terrain. The true beauty of unity, passion and hope.