Just finished this piece. I like it, therefore nobody else has to. Isn’t that called artistic arrogance? =D
Tag: d.l.keur
Experiential Distortion
by D. L. Keur writing as herself and/or one of her numerous pen names
Stepping into the shower, she listens to the giggling in the walls, watches light refracting in the streaming spray, smells the fragrance of freshness. Tastes it, too. She closes eyes, lessening visual stimulation. While spatially disorienting, this decreases distraction.
Narrowing focus, she concentrates upon sensation. Sound and odors fade; touch, the lesser skill, can now dominate attention. She revels in sensation: tingling, stinging, punctuated hot; dripping, streaming flow sweeping all around, swirling at her feet. Immersed in movement of the stream, her mind explores vectors and trajectories.
“Raynie, did you take the garbage out?”
The sound explodes around her. The world spins, threatening to topple her.
She extends a hand, but can’t find ‘solid’.
Concentrating, she manages to still herself enough to hold stability, despite the violent buffeting of tidal swirls that threaten to upend her. She trues to that hold, but the effort is immense. Still, she knows it’s necessary. Doing less will bring unending queries and more violent disturbances.
With a will, she splits attending from single- to multi-dedicated focus. She seeks and finds ‘speech’, the least of her capabilities, but the one most critical to maintaining comfort levels within those with whom she shares experience.
The effort makes her breathless. She coheres the necessary communication from conceptual instance into distributed linear stream, making sure the energy within that stream congeals into: meaningful, simple, concise.
Once sure, she finds, then engages mouth and tongue, that finding and engagement also requiring of her immense concentration.
“Raynie?”
“No, Mom. I’ll do it when I’m finished showering.”
“Well, hurry up. The bus will be here.”
Dedicated concentration fractured, she struggles to stabilize herself as every sense goes overload. She struggles and, with a breath, just manages appropriate response—“Okay”—then she hopes that Mom will go away so she can regain control.
Silence answers, and, as the metasphere around her calms, the skirls and buffeting exponentially diminish until they become mere ripples dissolving into echoes as they fade off down the here-now’s timeline.
Getting the New Computer, Me, & Space Sorted
This week has been spent getting the new computer sorted–installing and setting up programs and the like. And, of course, I’m not even done by half. (Last week was a wash with all the connection problems…which, for the moment, seem to have settled down some). And, of course, most set-ups I’m doing require or have to do with connecting to remote locations and my websites and server…which requires a stable (what’s that?) connection. Email has proven to be the most fitful to get settled, especially with using a local client rather than some big box in the Cloud. (Never, no, uh-uh, not and compromise my clients’ correspondence, never mind my own correspondence with friends, which, admittedly, is sparse).
I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking…which has proven somewhat sobering, a little depressing, but may mean greater productivity with more satisfying outcomes.
Oh, and we got the recording studio and its dedicated computer set-up almost done, too (That required Forrest’s expertise.) That means that I will begin recording TIAM soon, along with A Gathering of Rebels (well, re-recording them). I’ll start with short stories, first, though, to get back in practice.
Last, I set up my practice areas, which is good. For too long things have been half-baked in the music practice department.
Next week, I’ll get back to working on some art for Marva that I started on the other computer, only to have to transfer everything to this station since I’ll be vacationing that one. (It’s tired and in desperate need of some TLC.)
Thanksgiving at Our House, 2014
This year, again I’m not sure whether Forrest will be home for Thanksgiving. As usual when it’s up-in-the-air, we plan to do dinner out. This year, like last, we’ve got reservations for eight at The Trinity. I’m hoping Forrest will make it, but I’m not holding my breath.