Monthly Archives: March 2013

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Posted by darkling eye on

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the liebster blog award
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due to the generosity of dawn at Mad Woman With A Camera (please check out her site) the Liebster Award has just been given to darkling eye.
thank you, dawn. namaste.

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to accept the award i need to answer a series of questions. and to nominate a handful of sites which have captivated and enthralled me over the past year.
i urge you to visit these sites and see what life is like in the worlds of others.
in alphabetical order:

and now to the intense interrogation. well, ok, maybe not quite. but here’s the questionnaire anyway:

Do you have any phobias?  yes, intensely phobic of butterflies and moths.
What book are you currently reading?  beside the sea by véronique olmi
Chocolate or Fruit?  fruit dipped in dark chocolate.
What is your favourite colour?  dusty blue
If you were re-incarnated, what animal would you like to come back as?  buzzard.
Can you swim?  no
Are you still friends with your best friend from school?  no
Which celebrity would you like to take you to dinner?  david lynch and helena bonham carter. on separate tables.
What is your favourite pet?  i don’t have any pets. but if i did it’d be five cats. and maybe a wolf. or a crow.
Which of your blog posts is your favourite?  the one after next.

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Liebster Award 2013

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Posted by darkling eye on

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CLS #1 / Dark Blue Mix (2010)

Carotid Light Series #1 / Dark Blue Mix (2010)
john luke chapman

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darkling eye was born a year ago today and, from the outset, it was only ever designed to be a one year project.

the response has been unexpected: baffling, fascinating, at times curious, and always intriguing.

i am touched.

the twelve months have ended but i am not ready to give it up just yet. it doesn’t feel completed. or stale. so, with  your indulgence, darkling eye will continue for the time being at least.

takk

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first annual report

posts : 99
likes : 1537
followers : 200
countries : 60

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Posted by darkling eye on

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Birth Day
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Careful, my dear. Careful.

CAREFUL, I SAID. It’s for your own good. You know that I might be right, I can see it through your eyes. No matter where or who you are this night will be rounded in a frame, flash-gunned and shuttered in and changeless for once. And painless, that’d be a treat. My birth day gift to you.

Why do you always cry on your birth day? That’s not for you. It’s supposed to be the one day when you don’t have to give, only to be. I’d have thought that it would be the perfect day for you, but maybe that’s the point that sticks you still. For one day a year a looking-glass is held up just for you, with no blurs or distortions to distract. Is that why you cry? Is that why you are so hopeless at hiding?

When you were young there was always the chance that this year would be different, not enough had passed to dull the sharp edges of your delight. Yet unwrapping after unwrapping only delivers a shaken parade of the clumsy and the mean, but even then hardship or neglect – or the thought that maybe it was your fault – hovered like forgiveness in the wings. But that was a long time ago now; the child learns lessons hard taught.

Untied by string your fingers shake without anticipation for fear of what you are unfolding, of how others see you. The good gift writes relief not happiness into your face, the bad gift strips you bare. Is that why you cry? Is that why thank-you-cards are painted in sodden lipstick and mascara?  The paper is soaked and offered by hands that know what they hold; little reliquaries of recognition are never lightly given, smudged or torn.

The false memory of glee may hide in your eyes, cosseted and cheated as a favoured phantom-limb, but it is the wasting figure wrapped in ribbons that pricks you open and naked. Crowded by the illegitimate desires of those around you can never be on your own this day, a day without passion only sentiment. Is that why you could never lie?

So happy birth day, my dear. But be careful, everyone bought you mirrors this year.

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[JC/2001]

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Posted by darkling eye on

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She Borrows A Revolver (1995)

She Borrows A Revolver (1995)
john luke chapman

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The Heart asks Pleasure — first
And then — Excuse from Pain —
And then — those little Anodynes
That deaden suffering —

And then — to go to sleep —
And then — if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor
The privilege to die —

Emily Dickinson
1890