Upon my breath.

Today Volumes III and IV of Thrice's Alchemy Index were released upon this needy world. Or, in the least, upon me, in need. Its timing is welcome.

There might be words that exist with which I might explain how incredible their artistry is in The Alchemy Index albums, how brilliant Dustin Kensrue's lyrics are, connecting words and music to present listeners with a very real internal image of the classical elements, how you can hear them in the songs, spanning full genres with ease. There are words but I do not have them.

The title of this (online journal) is taken from the English sonnet track from the Air album. It suits. I thought I might reproduce.

Silver Wings

From tender years you took me for granted,
But still I deigned to wander through your lungs.
While you were sleeping soundly in your bed,
(Your drapes were silver wings, your shutters flung)
I drew the poison from the summer's sting,
And eased the fire out of your fevered skin.
I moved in you and stirred your soul to sing;
And if you'd let me I would move again.
I've danced 'tween sunlit strands of lover's hair;
Helped form the final words before your death.
I've pitied you and plied your sails with air;
Gave blessing when you rose upon my breath.
And after all of this I am amazed,
That I am cursed far more than I am praised.

The I as a Fish Enlivened and Upstream.

An individual is made up of one's many encounters with others. The relationships gained throughout life are not a slicing away of individuality, but a sprouting out of branches and the ability to grow and flower. Through them one may gain strength and stretch higher.

There is a chronological flow to this. Connections are first gained through your parents and your other family members, whose own individual traits are added to yours, however few there are. Perhaps at first there is a near-blankness, but even that is still allowed as some characteristic of an individual. And when you leave your house, as time passes and relationships connect, your sense of self expands to the point where you are enabled to share that selfhood and strengthen it through a blending with others.

Relationships flow upwards like vines skyward, the more gained, the better one's self, one's house and bare brick, is covered by soft leaves. The value of an individual is stagnated when cut away from others. It is increased when engaged.

The I as a Dead Fish in the Sea.

We are people so we are individuals. I wonder if it is safe to say that. And in the word individual, there seems to be a certain heraldry, something so purposive in proclaiming not only who you are, but that you exist to state who you are, and to do so through a relation of difference between others. This is a good thing, it seems.

But a person is expected not to do this. Yes, a person may feel great cause to define their individual political stance in opposition to an oppressive one, but that is a political field and not an interpersonal one. The strength of being an individual for self is taken apart because of an expectation to divide yourself for others. In entering relationships with others you are expected to provide out of yourself a certain divisiveness, to slice a few parts of your individual person away so that what you are now defined to be, as it is, is through those very relations with others. You, an individual person, are defined through however many ways you divide yourself for the pieces of others to fit in your stead. You are defined by the things you are not.

So if this is some false kind of individuality, a shadowing form of strength of 'person', where is the real person's strength and truth? It seems that, if this definition through division is what is preferred, then one is disallowed from searching out where and who that is, kept away from coming alive.