La Cour Jardin

Cold's getting better so no phantom smells today. I lit a candle instead.

Last minute meeting with Z tonight. Man, he really has a lot of interesting stories and ideas. It's challenging at times working with artists but it's tons of fun. I learn a lot.

走火入魔 continues. When I start writing one thing I start going crazy and the words start pouring out of me all over the place and I can't stop - this weekend I have written all kinds of things in here and there and everywhere. I can feel my mind going a mile a minute and my blood pounding in my head when I close my eyes to sleep, which I can't. 

Batik Smells

Something strange is happening these days. There is a faint scent of flowers and incense following me around, making itself perceptible when I don't expect it at all. I have not been able to locate the source of the smell, as it disappears as soon as I start sniffing at it. Mostly these incidents are happening in my house, or in my bedroom, which leaves me less disturbed. But when it happens in a noisy bar late at night I am totally mystified.

Turns out this condition is a kind of hallucination, most likely a byproduct of my cold, and has a cool name: Phantosmia

What surprises me is how pronounced the smell is from the first time I detected it. It was clearly the same smell as the Batik we bought from Yogyakarta. Of all the phantom smells to hallucinate, why this?

Croaking

Writing here is a kind of relief when I am ill and my mind has gone hazy from medication. When I'm in such a state it's a terrible thing to do work, but writing down what I think comes a bit more naturally.

I have been reading a book about comic art and it talks about how to "control" time, how an artist can frame and compose each panel to create the tempo and time path for a reader to follow. This sets up a reading experience that requires the cooperation of the reader, like in a dance. On the other hand, video and film give the reader no such control, and requires no such cooperation beyond keeping his eyes open, in front of the projection screen.

It makes me think about the nature of perceptual experiences and a human being's control over their own memory, i.e. time + perceptual experiences. Being obsessed with a memory feels suffocating because more and more detail is lost every time you access the memory. All the subtlety fades away and you are left with a more and more ridiculous caricature in your mind. Cartoons. 

2018

This year's resolution is to write more, but not here I think. There's too much nonsense here from the past few years. It's a little bit of a bother now as I have to hold myself to a pretty high standard while working in the publishing industry.

What I write here is usually quite minimally produced and I don't intend for that to change much. I'm still thinking what to do.

The week gone by was of some significance. Old things and new things too. It was nice walking on the Mid-levels escalators in Central.

Is there anything more to life than obsession?