Back when the "New Material" post was written I went through a life transition that was both tangible and intangible. Among the intangible lies a change in my daydreaming habits. Before coming to Italy the Renaissance period fascinated me. I've seen countless films set in that time period, and I never seem to tire of them. I listened to classical music and painted scenes colored with words that the notes inspired in me - needless to say these scenes never graced the time in which we now live. Now my headphones sing with synthesizers instead of pianos and drum machines instead of timpani. I remarked a couple of weeks ago how my daydreams no longer flock backwards some 500 years, but forwards to futuristic nirvana.
Today, though, as I sat in Caffe' Amerini, I strolled back towards old friends in my 16th Century Poetry anthology - Marlowe, Donne, and Sidney, to name a few. I discovered a new poem by Donne that gave me chills, copying it meticulously into my journal, and afterwards I contemplated its significance. The poem, titled "The Sun Rising," addresses the Dawn and says lovely little things like this:
She is all states, and all princes I.
Nothing else is.

Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere:
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

Hardy a modern/futuristic way of expression, however beautiful it is. Can my two realms of daydreaming ever coexist? I'm not sure they can outside of the simple act of reading Sidney's "Astrophil and Stella" while listening to arguably over-the-top synth anthems.
But I like juxtaposition. I like what it does to us. It's fitting that I'm dreaming in the 16th Century and floating around in spacy bliss in the same mental breath. This means my imagination is not bounded by what makes sense. Since when have imaginations been subjected to rationality anyway?
Whenever I think of juxtaposition a favorite image comes to mind. College students often are not fortunate enough to have a wide array of kitchen ware, but we usually do manage to get our hands on cheap wine and champagne with relative ease. This leads to sometimes drinking said "champagne" in coffee mugs. Last time this delightful phenomenon happened to me I giggled at its peculiarity and also did something quite curious - I subconsciously clutched the mug close to my body as though its contents would warm me, fully knowing they wouldn't.
Some things just don't make sense when put side by side - Renaissance and Future, Champagne and Coffee Mugs, My Nana watching School of Rock late at night, eating McDonald's in Florence, etc. We do things to try and put them back into context, which is natural, but being flexible with what is considered normal and "strange," is refreshing.
I think John Donne would have enjoyed flashdancing in Kanye shutter shades and some boss Nikes.

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