Architectural Woes

you can't fight for too long, eventually you'll realize that you're fighting yourself.
a mission to create something from within, although we don't yet know quite how to, we try.
and try.
a challenge to refute what is known,
what is right,
what is wrong,
and just follow when our minds want to succumb to our intuition.
not to neglect our intuition and stay true while maintaing a clear direction
and not distorting our intentions.

i cry through this object,
to you.
for you see,
all i have is merely the materials and tools in front of me
(that i can barely control)
to tell you how i feel.
to tell you what i think.
to change your mind.
to humbly make sense of a chaos
chaos that exists within an intangible and elite world of intellectual pervasiveness.

i'm telling you how i'm hurting.
i'm feeding you my depression.
i'm filling the deep void.

you have no idea what i'm talking about.

this wall is here.
this wood is bent.
i'm encompassing your body, i'm opening you up to the sky,
for that is what i am here to do.

this is my language.
this is the dialogue between me and the world.
this is my mind and soul
spewed out into bits
beautifully arranged into clouds that are merely made up of
air
and water.
and like water,
eventually it all evaporates into nothing

As We Build

a starting point. an entry into a diverse world of possibility that everyday allows for various paths of creativity. a combination of and a presentation of successes and failures. everyday a new endeavor and a new understanding.

the idea of community activity, where anyone can observe and feel a part of the moment. Spaces that wrap in and out of each other, to intersect, even if slightly.

pulling apart a box to reveal so slightly what is going on inside. the sense of pulling something apart to see its components.

proportions that are harmonious and subtle, not extreme or overpowering.

doomed for happiness

doomed for happiness.

thread count

you've caught the beast in me
and tamed it, at the seams
bursting so it seems
with life, is how are we
so unlikely to slow it down
crazy lives that never frown
crazy turns upside and down
so likely to be homeward bound

dizzy dizzy
as we run in circles
dizzy dizzy
love me love me
dizzy dizzy
so unlikely

oh how you grow
nobody knows
i do though
i can see it and i like it
i can see it and i want it
oh how you show
me love
i mean it

how i love to be lost with you in
San Dimas
how i love to go everywhere with you
how i love to go nowhere with you

beneath our skin
like breaths of fresh air
sheets of high supima
envelope us

how swell it seems
when it's bursting at the seams

when nobody is knowing
i'm watching watching
when you can't feel it,
i'm touching, touching
touching
touching
we are touching
touching
touching
like roots of a tree
we are swelling to be
in unity
you&me.

from the translations of another

In Persian, there are four levels of friendship each relating to a degree in closeness and intimacy:
Aashenaa (to know someone casually)
Doost (a close friend)
Rafeegh (your best friend)
Yaar (your inseparable lover)
However, these levels are independent of the type of physical connection you have with someone. These degrees of closeness explain your deep soul connection with another being; your spouse, therefore, may only be your Aashenaa, or you may have a perfect platonic relationship with a Yaar. Some mystics measure their intimacy with God and the Beloved by using these levels. For RUMI, the Beloved and Shams were one, and both (as one) were his Yaar. That could explain why Rumi’s verses are being dubbed “love poems.” Should they be anything less?”


Shahram Shiva on Rumi

sort of backwards

sort of backwards,
the reverse of most people.
funneling my life into a filter,
untangling one knot at a time.
tuning it down.
trying harder for less.
i'm always too much,
it's always too much,
more,
alot,
excess,
strong,
passion,
loud,
extremes,
many
variety,
maximum,
overwhelming.
throwing away.
down-sizing
down
sizing.
down
sizing.
editing,
refining,
confining,
defining.
editing.
refining.
confining.
defining.
This period.
.
.
Here's a period
.
Here's an end.
No more commas,
just a period.
Be deliberate.
Edit.
Edit.
Some things of chaotic essence cannot be bound or restricted,
some things need to fly free.
We can keep trying.
i'll edit.
i'll edit.
i'll edit.
some things just need to be free.
free.
free.
free.

Ideograms

Ideograms speak of genetic codes or basic seeds of organization that respond to a demand for combined effectiveness and operativeness: to attain with the minimum element the largest quantity of bits of information in order to obtain the greatest possible cohesion between the whole and the particular such that one is reflected in the other.

-The Metapolis dictionary of advanced architecture

what brings us here

What brings us here
isn't so much where we are headed
insofar as our paths can collide,
it's more of where we are coming from.
We shared a path once before we ever knew what lay ahead.
We shared moments once, in the form of flickering lights,
that seemed to synchronize almost completely.
But off just the slightest, most melodic bit.
We might have even shared a joke once before,
before we ever met.
The kind where we both stood up to wave around our arms and speak through our bodies.
This might just be the part where we can laugh our heads off,
that might just be what brought us together.
We could have believed in each other,
we might just have to believe in each other,
this might just be it,
let's believe in each other.

nileppez del

And yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers,
But all that lives is born to die.
And so I say to you that nothing really matters,
And all you do is stand and cry.

i love this poem

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

-e e cummings

tears are silent

tears are silent,
no one can hear them,
strip away fears
as they roll down your face.
years are silent,
they close their eyes to the world,
and collect in puddles
only ever known,
unto yourself,
you've only ever known.

waiting is like searching

waiting is like searching for breath under water
waiting for you, counting every hour
for the moment when you'll nod and smile
whispers like the wind will carry us for miles
while in the dark we roam
hold my hand, let's go home

Crosses all over, heavy on your shoulders
The sirens inside you waiting to step forward
Disturbing silence darkens your sight
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now

Costa Rica, 2007
Cómo decir que me parte en mil
las esquinitas de mis huesos,
que han caído los esquemas de mi vida
ahora que todo era perfecto.
Y algo más que eso,
me sorbiste el seso y me decían del peso
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.

Me cuesta abrir los ojos
y lo hago poco a poco,
no sea que aún te encuentre cerca.
Me guardo tu recuerdo
como el mejor secreto,
que dulce fue tenerte dentro.

Hay un trozo de luz
en esta oscuridad
para prestarme calma.
El tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma,
el tiempo todo calma,
la tempestad y la calma.

Siempre me quedará
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.
En la voz suave del mar,
en volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.

Cómo decir que me parte en mil
las esquinitas de mis huesos,
que han caído los esquemas de mi vida
ahora que todo era perfecto.
Y algo más que eso,
me sorbiste el seso y me decían del peso
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.
de este cuerpecito mío
que se ha convertío en río.

Siempre me quedará
la voz suave del mar,
volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.
En la voz suave del mar,
en volver a respirar la lluvia que caerá
sobre este cuerpo y mojará
la flor que crece en mi,
y volver a reír
y cada día un instante volver a pensar en ti.

Bebe.

Insanity

those moments when you've hit insanity, when you realize how lost you really are,

are your most human moments ever.

exposed.

Just as how perspective rules our existence,
perspective is our existence.
No matter where you stand or how you choose to see,
the way something appears cannot be duplicated through another's eyes
and solely has meaning based on who we are.
Battling the constant pressure of falling into sameness.
That fear of failing and the fear of doing wrong inhibits ones pure desires and actions.
By inhibiting and filtering the human mind, what one produces is a less individualistic piece of art.

Many times the inspiration we take from things is not pure. It rules how we excite and entertain our opinions due to it's already pervasive nature.
The end results, lackluster pieces, reflect not what the artist contrives or means to convey but may illustrate what their portrayal can articulate into, within a pop-culture driven, advertising corrupted society.

WORDS
We all associate words differently.
Language barriers pervade every conversation regardless the intellectual abilities of these persons. We can hear differently or obscurely, a word that is being meant to imply something else, because of our individual experiences. So really, is life a mixture of trying to decode and order and understand what already has been understood? We are a people who reproduce thoughts and ideas with our own twist because of how we perceive them to exist in our personal realities.

my God.

the fleeting discourse of nature

Everything tries to do something. It attempts something, it experiments along some parameters, and it eventually reaches some version of the final product it was in reach of.
Yet I don't think anything ever fully accomplishes doing what it intended or was innately driven on doing.
I guess that depends on what you mean by fully and what you mean by doing.
In any case, Flaws are ever present, since truth is ever changing.
What is it about truth that is ever changing and in flux?
The answer to that is another question:

What is it when things are true?

Where does truth come from and what does truth mean to us?
We base things on temporary ideas, built on premises of hypothesis and theory, and those premises of fact or experiment constantly change and evolve. The base of truth is always doubtable, questionable, corruptible. Yet truth is what we pivot our everyday lives around and what molds our conceptions of the environment.
What that tells me about the way things are presented to us in our world, cities and environments is that in a moment of realization one cannot lose sight of the possibility that what we conceive as truth is really not true at all. TRUTH is a figment of our imaginations.

What else?
Oh yess....
Since flaws are always present (because of truth being in constant flux) then presenting pseudo-matter, false information is more successful in nature than presenting truth.

Ok, now I'm just rambling...

sono vivere

The way things act and react reflects their nature, the inherent properties of their being. If the realm of cause and effect is universally governed by natural balance, then the source of that equilibrium must reside within the very architecture of existence.

selective sanity

Architecture has a resemblance to us.
It resembles something of the human scale, something that keeps us associated with our environment.

There is a problem.

As architecture begins to describe and define people, and become more inclusive of human conduct, the body, the form, we are less isolated. We are affected by every move, a slight drop in the height of a wall, a mere slot of light that washes you awake, a window placed carefully enough that it frames a special view from a particular position.

You wonder that when architecture begins to do something "new", something radical, something unforseen, unpredicted, and indefinite, what happens to us?

Can radical things begin to define us as radical people? Can we see, in ourselves, a reflection of something foreign that has begun to define our existence? How could humans potentially react to these effects psychologically and physically?

Could it be that the abnormal, radical things might give us our insanity back?
I suppose this would do us the biggest favor by tampering with our most natural faculties, with reason and conscience. If we our lucky, we may find sanity has been switched off and madness on. After all, the only real sane feeling one ever feels is the moment they are born, that rush of wind to their face as they make their very first sound ever in the arms of the one person most accountable for their creation, successes, failures and destruction. From then on one's goal must be to hit a point of insanity, rock-bottom nothingness, to ever feel real again. Hopefully not being cradled in the arms of their mother.

i'd rather give in to the wind, and dance and dance

i'm not as strong as you think i am

I left you heartbroken, but not until those very words were spoken
Has anybody ever made such a fool out of you
It's hard to believe it
Even as my eyes do see it
The very things that make you live are killing you
Listen when all of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
I will shelter you
-RL
______there are no outlines in life______________
Pasadena, Ca

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beauty through the dirty looking-glass
squinting didn't help,
but it worked out for the better..
Los Feliz, Ca
does my excitement in life shock you??





Playa Del Zuma, Ca

trans it

patterns that turn into your life.
corners that meet turn in, to your life.
walls that recede turn in, to your life.
floors that ascend, turn into your life.
if you read these lines right,
if you read what i don't mean to write,
they may turn in,
to your life.

somethink i thunk

i didn't want it then, but i want it now.


"As the thudding of the bass got louder and more intense, she drove faster and more swiftly. Her heart was swept into a sea of bliss as it sank back into that once distant, yet familiar place. Realizing now, how much it meant to her all of that time, she was satisfied with what fate had unraveled. She could finally have some peace of mind; she could finally have a piece of her own mind."

it helps to speak from experience, but me i aint got none

it's hard doing what you want,
when burdened by the thoughts of what is right,
and i'm sure you understand
i am oh so sure that you feel in your bones
that there is a potential
to gain something
by giving up
everything
if it is worth it
and awesome in it's entirety

just a compass

every single little thing makes a difference
the detail in your sheets
the sidewalk-cracks on your street
the way light hits your wall
and washes your life as it falls
the way you speak
dont care who answers
just to speak it
is all that matters
when the choice is ours
we haven't a clue what to choose
most important we know
never to lose
our fiery passion
that's our direction
like the compass on your wrist
keeping a steadfast brightness that is brilliant

Ideal of Beauty

"The harmony and concord of all the parts achieved in such a manner that nothing could be added or taken away or altered except for the worse"

Ideal of beauty, Alberti, 10 books of architecture

We Apples All Fall Closely From The Same Sad Tree

it's a funny thing when we want to love a person
and all they want
is to love somebody else
and it's an even funnier thing
when someone else wants to love you,
it's all they want to do,
and all you want is to love somebody else and we spend
countless hours
living, thinking, trying to find the words
but,
its irrelevance consuming our every bit of conscience,
and we seldom get to see the real side of things
because the real side doesn't exist, since
from another angle life can look alot different,
it's the epitome of your existence.
and you don't even know it,
you'll never know it because
we don't allow ourselves to realize
how many people at any given moment
miss us
need us
and we live our lives obliviously,
mirroring their lives
sadly, dangerously close to the edge, all the while
we miss, we need, we love.
all the ones that don't
miss/need/love us
it gives us a sense of purpose to fight and chase things that are
in large part non-existent,
irrelevant
trivial
we get high and low and feel the blows
of rejection and acceptance
excitement and dormancy
stimulation and deceleration
and we don't know how
transience speaks to us in codes and rhymes
transience wants to free us,
all we have to do is look to it
and we're there