Newest Painting

I apologize for the shitty quality. I think the painting is decent, though. The assignment was just a modern art piece incorporating various media including something 3-D. All the blue and white forming a frame around the painting is folded up, painted strips of cardboard. The only other 3-D media I used was an empty CD to form the black circle in the upper right hand corner. I wanted to use something significant to me, like a Beatles CD, but who would let me ruin their Beatles CD like that? Ah well. I could always lie. What someone doesn't know won't hurt 'em.

Lisa Hannigan, Lille

Tchuss.

-Christopher

New Piano Pieces

I still haven't figured out how to load the videos directly onto my blog, so instead I'm going to post a link of each new piano video with a different one of the seven dwarves. Click on each one and you'll get a different piano piece! Isn't that cute?









"Come right here and sleep while I slip...poison in your ear..."

-Christopher

The Mirror

He had come through the mirror. He could not speak, but I understood it the first time I met him. It was on a night when the moon hung so full and heavy in the sky that it looked as though if you pierced it with the tip of a pen, some icy, celestial water would come pouring out. As I lay pressed against my bed by the enormity of the night sky which peered at me through my window, I spotted his dark figure shivering from between the spindly trees of ink. Although it was black, it glimmered somehow, and the way he gazed at the sky above him intrigued me. I set out to meet him, slipping on my jacket and delving into the wintery night like a gray rain drop falling into a vast expanse of sea.

As I approached him, I saw that he was much taller than the average person. He was thin as well, and his skin was as white as snow, so that it looked as though he was woven from the moonlight. When I spoke, my voice sounded flat and muted in the presence of the whispering wind and the restless trees, and even I was not aware what I had said. He turned slowly to behold me, and looking upon him, I thought he must have been an angel. His eyes were black and glass-like, yet at the same time they resembled liquid. Looking into them was like gazing upon an entire Universe contained within a marble. He did not smile, but his face was gentle, calm and questioning, and his long, golden hair and silvery tunic billowed almost magically in the gentle breeze. He reached a long, thin hand toward me, making not a sound, and I embraced it. It was neither warm nor cold, and when I touched his fingers, melodic noises like piano keys sprinkled throughout the air. Then he smiled at me and returned his eyes to the night sky. I stood beside him for what might have been moments and what might have been years. Then we set off back to my home, and when he entered it, it was filled with an eerie, musical glow that danced upon the walls and ceiling. He strode swiftly and silently to an aged, noble mirror of mine mounted on a table in the hall, and together we stood before it, side by side, and acknowledged each other’s odd reflections. At that time, I understood that the mirror was where he had come from, and scarcely had this idea formed in my head before he reached a hand out to touch the mirror. The glass seemed to melt at his touch so that his hand slid easily through it, and after his hand had slid through it, the rest of his body followed. The mirror swelled and rippled, and the peaceful silence that proceeded seemed to murmur to me its quiet farewell. I hardly hesitated a moment before I plunged into the mirror after him.

I do not know how long I have lived in this new world, although sometimes it feels like a lifetime, but I do find it to be very strange and wonderful. The people here live in the sunset. They walk along the long, fiery wisps of cloud that stretch across the sky like strips of desert, and when you walk across the clouds, reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, and blues lap at your ankles like ocean waves. The people, who are all tall and pale—like my friend, carve their cities into the fiery evening sky, fashioning beautiful mansions and towering buildings that swirl and breathe like living things. Birds fly through the air like glimmering schools of fish, and small islands of cloud float peacefully just above your head or somewhere below your feet.

What would have been the ground arches far above our heads, forming a colossal, mountainous ceiling of solid green and brown. Hills and caverns and valleys and forests hang above our heads, just upside-down, so that the trees grow downward. People here look up at the ground and have wild dreams of somehow visiting it, imagining what fantastic creatures and extraordinary wonders must reside there.

They do not speak, these people, but somehow they do not need to. There is music, wonderful music, that seems to say everything for them. They are happy, I think, and why should they not be? What a fantastic idea, to live in the sunset. Sometimes, though, I glimpse my reflection in a pool of water or even in a mirror and I wonder whether I will ever go back. I do not know, after all, whether I will return, or if I even want to. But still, after all of this time, it is strange to stare at my peculiar reflection in the mirror and envision the many worlds that dwell from behind it. Strange to look into a mirror and to imagine all of those worlds, and to imagine visiting all of them. And I wonder: if I am living in this strange paradise in the sky—this mirror world, have I become the mirror me?

A Post Involving Me Thinking Out Loud and Some Guy Named Demetri

As some of you may know, I'm in the process of ending my other blog, The Nerd Archives. It has had a long, full life. Now I think it's time that it burns to the fucking ground so I can parade around in its ashes and smear the fiery shreds of it across my bare chest.

I know this blog has been neglected for a while. It's gone through three name changes. I like this name. But I don't like this blog. I just deleted about 150 of my posts, because I read them and thought they were absolute monkey genitals. Honestly, it makes me sick to think that I wrote them.

I've kept the last few posts with some poetry and pictures that I'm okay with. But this blog still has a lot of bad connotations for me. A lot of bad juju. And I'm wondering if it would be best for me to get a whole new blogspot around the time when I end The Nerd Archives. Just to start afresh and stuff.

I'd lose all my followers, but I only have sixty anyway and I'm pretty sure not a single one of them still reads this blog. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who reads this blog anymore. And that's the thing. Getting a new blogspot would be me admitting that to myself. I could immerse myself in an entirely new blogging community, and I wouldn't have to be so caught up in whether or not people read it. I could just write and post and write and post and do whatever I want and no grownups can tell me when I have to go to bed.

I feel like I've changed so much just in the past few months or so. It's not even that a lot has happened, necessarily, although really it has. A lot happens every day. But I've only just started to become aware of that.

Also I'd probably be willing to post a lot more if I got a new blogspot. I don't know why. I just would.

I've been sort of convincing myself while writing this post and I think it's starting to sound pretty good.

Listening to the Dead. "The Ripple." That's some great shit. I've been listening to the song "Pumped-Up Kicks" by Foster the People for the past like 72 hours, so it makes a nice change. Although...now that I mention it, I kinda wanna go listen to that song again.

I'll get back to you later. Maybe.



I'm learning German. Ja.

-Christopher

Oodles and Oodles of Doodles

And also, Dr. Dog.

But first, the oodles and oodles of doodles. First, here's a bunch of stuff I just drew in the margins of my homework during class or stuff.















Here are some paintings. The first one is a still life we did in the first week or two of class, and the second is my modern art piece.




(See if you can tell what some of the things in the still life are.)





Finally, here's an unfinished one from the Advanced Painting class. (I'm just in Painting 1). Their assignment was to use all of the pages of a book and incorporate it into their painting. The person in that class who's using my easel is using Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume. But here's the one I want to show you. I'm not sure what book they're using.



Pretty amazing, huh? I'm not quite there yet in regards to school, of course. But you know. Baby steps.

So, anyway, I think I'm about done here. Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. My grandfather died a little over a week ago, and that's been hard. I'm flying out to Texas for the funeral tomorrow. So it might be a while until I post again as well.

November's Blog of Specialness, as it happens, is Party Poison vs. the World. It can be found on the top of the page. Go click on it. Go on. Shoo.

But now, it's time for Dr. Dog.

Keep a Friend

Shadow People

The Beach

Thank you and good night.

-Christopher