Suspended Volatility: Act 2 An Interior Image

How should I describe getting into water? 

Do I mention how cold the water felt, or that being submerged felt like I belonged, or that the moisture felt like home, or that I wanted to be swept away by the high tide, or that looking at water hypnotised me, or that the twilight reflecting on water possessed me, or that I was haunted by golden light crashing on the shore. 

Wet
glistening, yet
inundated
a movement that is between levitating and floating.

Time is reduced to 75% of its actual speed.

he
him
his

Hunted. 
Windswept. 

How do I describe how the wind feels? 

David Wojnarowicz: In the shadow of forward motion: the meaning of the title is: Consider you’re in a car and you’re speeding along the expressway, and everything you see out of the corner of your eye that doesn’t register in the pursuit of that speed, in terms of motion, is what’s in the shadow. It’s all things quietly occurring within the absence of sight that take place in the pursuit of speed, in terms of motion.

I have an image, a photograph that I was obsessed with. The image grazes the wind; it feels space like he would feel—spacious. My hand, outstretched; I am reaching out. The sky is dark blue, mixed with grey; the clouds reflect city lights. The street—in the shadow of forward motion. My arm is reaching out, my rings shine, give more structure. Read: grace, to my hand. The arm is a bit blurred, this image is taken from a vehicle. The background is jacketed with horizontal lines in the tonality that shows the road, the undead shrubs on the divider, some blooming. 

I am not going to show you this image. 

This image haunts me. I keep asking myself what I see in it and what force it exerts? 

Affective forces that form within our consciousness which are governed by external stimuli; an external formation. But here, the affective force is laced with an emotional force, of what I attach to the image, of how I let it move me, of how I am always open to being moved by it. Interior images. The contours of these images are probably laced with banality, which is in opposition to the affective force that they carry. An image that I will always remain open to. Openness as affordance: I am open to you because I can bear you. I am open to this image to let it change me, as you did. I caption this image on my phone as: My body is time, and yours my beloved, is space. Time and space, governed by motion. Time as meaning I assign to motion. Space as meaning I give to movement. 

Night: The city lights bounce off the clouds. The glow feels warm, neon orange mixed with grey and blue. Neon blue mixed with grey, 38%. The thunderstorm has passed and you’re looking at the clouds, moving with the pull of the wind, northward; the cloud moves at 65% of its actual speed. 
Speed—it is mesmerising. 

The focal point shifts, you see the edge of the trees, you’re not high enough to have an aerial view, somewhere between levitating and floating. Time is reduced to 86% of its actual speed. I am on my way back from yours. It is always night and it’s humid, and I am listening to Ashtray Wasp, followed by Hiders, followed by  Truant, all by Burial. My destination is in-between exhilaration and exhaustion.
The in-between-ness.

I come to Burial at a time when there is nothing to hold onto. The scratches, the echoes, and the low hum bass feel comforting. I know what the track will do for me, I know how my body feels and how it will move when I listen to it. It is haunting and it feels comfortable. It reminds me of you, or rather the residue of you. I would listen to it when I would get home from yours but now I listen to it when I long for you. There is something about speed, how the track syncs with the movement of the vehicle – I’ve entered a music video now, a post-cinematic image that re-structures the structure of feeling. The visual is always in ultra HD and the colour is saturated. Streaks of beam light in slow motion, criss-crossing each other, forming arcs and curves—some more in the foreground than others; and others more prominent.
Time is increased by 20% of its actual speed. 

Franco "Bifo"  Berardi: The schizo in fact is the person who has lost the ability to perceive limits of metaphoric enunciation and tends, therefore, to take the metaphor as a description.

I think a lot about speed. The speed at which I process myself, the speed at which I receive the world, the speed at which you come to me, the speeds when my processing capacities short-circuit. I constantly think of wanting more speed, to have life play out on a timeline where in the editing software I can tinker with retiming controls. Stretch the image so much that it starts tearing apart. Cut out portions of the images where time is accelerated to a point where the image becomes a grey haze. Pockets of speed within the image that jump out, that are felt, known, and lived, even before they are seen. 

In my want for speed, I keep searching for alignments and conjunctions: of people coming together, of us being together. When I think about this, I think about syzygies. A syzygy is rare and when it happens, everything changes. People think of a syzygy as eros or an eclipse. I think of syzygies when volatilities align. 

Volatility Index: The volatility Index is a measure of the market’s expectation of volatility over the near term. Volatility is often described as the ‘rate and magnitude of changes in prices’, and in finance is often referred to as risk.

Scenario one: The object (me) is stationary and everything else around me is in an extreme state of volatility. I try and focus on something, anything, in order to get my coordinates and find a point that would let me guide this state of volatility. But this is futile. The dizziness just keeps increasing to the point where I feel asphyxiated. The amount of force exerted on a body will determine how it would be governed. Bodies with unequal mass are on a collision course, and bodies with equal mass are in a state of constant suspension.

Scenario two: The object (me) is in a state of volatility and everything else surrounding me is in a state of stillness. I can’t concentrate anymore because I am consumed by the state I am in. The volatility becomes who I am, and I can’t look past that. I try and make sense of moving parts; constant reconfiguration, constant renegotiation. I want to know what suspension does, what pressure it exerts and on whom, and what volatility these states throw at me. If I ever reach any conclusion, I should know that it is false. 

Scenario three:

Both the object (me) and my surroundings are volatile. 
The dizziness is unbearable and worse than anything I have ever felt. 
The force generated by this volatility is inducing a pressure beyond comprehension, 
the heat seeps through me and I am crushed from all directions. 
My orientations are askew and it is a free fall; 
a free fall into being adrift, 
towards nowhere; 
a free fall into a black hole.
A body that has a higher mass pulls the body with a lower mass towards itself; gravity.
This body has an orientation. 

For me, there is no other, no gravitational pull. The object (I) remains in a constant state of suspension. I measure disruption. My coordinates are formed by the course of this disruption, from the point where the volatility is at its peak and this disruption governs me; suspended volatility.