Generally on the Brink / Clap-Off

Um. So I want to write something about last week, but - it's hard? It was a pretty general week. What stories do I have that I'd want to tell? That I had this massive zit on my lip that felt like it was pulsing with red painful fury in a siren so loud that people would just pull over to the side of the road to let me pass, like an ambulance? That I pulled over for two ambulances this week but both times I didn't see the ambulance until I had already passed by someone who was pulling to the side of the road, thinking, "Why are they just pulling over in the middle of rush-oooooooooh"

A story, then: When I went up during the summer to visit people at Clarkson, we went to the county fair and saw there a hypnotist. He started by making snide comments about people and then asked for volunteers - there were about six, and then this really tall guy came up to the front row and sat down just as the hypnotist got them in order. As they were hypnotized, and went deeper and deeper into the trance, he sagged down further...and further...until the only part of him still on the bench was his shoulders and he flopped in a comical sleep to the ground. The hypnotist tapped his shoulder, woke him slightly, and brought him (and a chair) to the stage. Then he said, "Alright, I'm going to snap my fingers and when I do you'll fall asleep." snap! "that's right, deep asleep."

And he could do that any time. Same guy - huge, over six feet tall, dancing like a ballerina on stage and the hypnotist walks up to him: snap! "and deep asleep, there you go" he's out. He's in bed but upright and right in front of us.

This week, I felt like someone was going to walk up to me and say, "Okay, I'll snap my fingers, and when I do..."

Any time, anywhere, I could be looking at my bed. Sitting in the office, waiting for something to compile: snap! crumpled arms and papers and a snore that leaves everyone laughing softly and wondering if they should wake me up or bet on how long I'll sleep. Gesture drawing at the easel, actively flowing one minute and then snap! curled up around the metallic smell of the stools and the gritty dirt of the unswept concrete floor. Playing glove game and we've scored a goal! snap! then down like in a stretch yet relaxed and care-free and worn out. I return from a bout for a gulp of water but some little kid jumps up from the couches and snaps! the muscles in my neck just give out and I drop like some discarded marionnete, my head with a will of its own going towards the ground, accelerating at 9.8m/s^2.

King of Karat Flowers

Jeff Mangum: I spend a lot of time practicing active imagination before I go to sleep. What I'm feeling will manifest as images through active imagination. And then I go to sleep and those play out even more in my dreams.

Pitchfork: What is "active imagination"?

Jeff Mangum: It's a Carl Jung term. It's sort of staying in that place between sleeping and waking. Just allowing your mind to completely begin to flow with images. Allowing it to become whatever it becomes. You know, you go to bed filled with worries and thoughts, caught up in that everyday kind of thing. With this, you try to concentrate on what you think is really important, or some type of interesting or mysterious image, and then allow your imagination to become like a stream. You can let the stream go, and just observe it to see what happens.