"Byzantine, a Christian empire, an architecture of heaven. Churches and other religious buildings emerged as the preeminent architectures, others faded into obscurity. A mystic image of heaven, so very opposite of the architecture of the work-a-day world outside. Devoted to reinforce religious experience, the familiar physical world of human sensation is transformed into a suggestion of the transcendental world. Images of conventional reality, captured in the glittering mosaics, evoke a spiritual presence in an otherworldly atmosphere of shimmering light from countless windows, reflected from high mosaic-lined domes. Alas, the early Christian and Byzantine liturgy celebrated the fusion of secular and religious rule and the endeavor to create a heaven on earth."
For I, a man, the measure and measurer of all things, stand so small and insignificant against the sheer monumentality of Thee dome, the geometrical perfection of the circle, the indisputable perfection of God. It seems as though it is a case of being minor and irrelevant. To being concerned of the life in the hereafter, and not with the here and now. To being mysticized, instead of embracing and being comprised. The human spirituality of being forever the outsider, and never the insider.
"For the first time in history, people of all ages, nationalities, race and background have the opportunity to use their light switch as their vote – Switching off your lights is a vote for Earth, or leaving them on is a vote for global warming. WWF are urging the world to VOTE EARTH and reach the target of 1 billion votes, which will be presented to world leaders at the Global Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen 2009. This meeting will determine official government policies to take action against global warming, which will replace the Kyoto Protocol. It is the chance for the people of the world to make their voice heard."
Is it necessary to inherit a certain aversion towards the boring. Can't be the worst thing a person can ever be, can it? Since when Hollywood was ever boring in the first place, what with the condors enjoying their wind, and the Bale being so profane.
Doing a task, I take the risk of being slightly foolish and delve in to bring the emotions of others and me, with a certain level of rationality. Properly done it is not, spawning reverence it sometimes does. It is those moments when you see to whether you have risen to the occassion. You either decide to take the easy way out, which means you're gonna disappoint yourself and everybody else. Or take that risk of being the fool, the fool whom everyone notices and is given a damn.
Perhaps Bale is the easy way out, for I perceive myself familiar towards his work. And there is so much more than just the bat in the man. You then get tied to the fact that you know an artiste so well to their very depths of their work and craft that it becomes predictable. So much credit and esteem are lost once you know the author too well, somehow lessens their prolific anonymity. That does not mean I have reasons to believe that I've disappointed myself, but to others and some people of significance might have.
Perhaps Bale can become my tool to be a fool, and I still have hopes for that. I can be diverse, I can be unpredictable. I can be dual, I can be layered. I can be honest, I can be contradictive. Brutal, I might, but nonetheless I can. All this will naturally be in the dark, and unfold in due time. That keeps things enjoyable and yes, unpredictable. Flaws will always be in attendence, for it is just so overused as an answer to the search of excuse. But that endless fascination to enthrall will perpetually drive me. After all, it's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.
And you're telling me it's a quote from Batman. Backside, that wasn't the fool I wanted to be.
heaven help me, i didn't see the devil in your eyes.
It's staggering how people strive to get things perfectly into plan. Include me, mind you. How one struggles in his endeavour so that it all falls directly into place. Into its millimetres, accordingly. No disarrangement, no cutting ques, no disorientation. For even the most chaotic of disorientations has to be meticulously disorientated, simply to fit the plot. To have everything in order, and order in all its delineation. One will do everything within his willing and grasps to ensure that when the moment finally arrives, the hope and anticipation of the obsessive compulsive labour will unfold exactly akin to the precisions of his computations. Only for it to embrace the unthinkable, for it occurs almost inevitably. Very much against the plan. The plot. Even the improbable disorientation seem strangely tidy against the impetuous that has caused all to fall out of place.
But then we look back at the plan. From a diferent perspective. We look back, at the bigger picture. Is it really out of place? Or just dissimilar to the view before. For the silver linings is always there, only a matter to whether we're keen enough to notice its shimmer. And once we do, oh you pray n pray that you do, it exceeds your premeditated expectations. Screw falling into place, it escalates above and beyond the highest of places. Ever present, and ever giving, you begin to embrace and celebrate the fact that you are completely. powerless. to stop it.