we have to make new love

i am surrounded by both the most beauty the world has to offer
and the trash that comes with it

the price we must pay for living in a wondrous world
is that we are what we are
and we are scum

we infect
we are a plague upon the ground

what is left to enjoy but the dregs of the disgrace
the final outcry of nature
for us to leave and never come back

a last attempt to rid the original from the sickness

everything can be made into a sickness

this love i feel
this vision
this privilege of breath

it affects someone in some way

-

i long for clarity and
redemption
a world of see-through glass and no mistakes

a world of unparalleled forgiveness

and

and

-

this is an enormous task to undertake
effort and time must be spent

what we have now must be sacrificed
if we want to change anything
anything, if we want to change anything

we have to make things new







here is björk performing one of my favorite pieces of music


i guess i just don't really understand the meaning of feelings, of what is felt. we expect them, though, and the absence of them is cause enough for us to worry. we would rather live in a world full of feelings than a world without them. and by feelings i don't just mean a reaction of the senses, something involuntary and common, but rather a unique set of sensations that one cannot discern, cannot summon, cannot control. a spreadsheet of innumerable configurations of colors and temperatures that affect one so deeply, so far inside that you almost dare not follow through to the end.

sometimes i will be near a window or open door and recall a long-lost sentence from a book. souls whirling through the air, a fast-moving object constantly spinning away just out of the reach of your eye - you see just the last trace of its path and then it is gone behind trees or corners of buildings. it puts you in a funny state of mind. why were you chosen to see this phenomenon, and what could it mean? do you follow it in its journey, or trace your steps back to safety? is it a shadow from the past wishing to impart to you secrets you never knew about? or merely a bird, a plastic bag blowing off course...

i long to design and be in control of my living space. there is just too much that i do not know, incredible amounts of knowledge that lead to desired results that i just will never know. i must be taught, i must be shown, like a baby is shown how to accomplish menial tasks. what i desire is a vision of beauty and originality but what must be done to accomplish it cannot be by my own hands. i really don't know what i'm talking about anymore... i just wish i could SHOW the world what is in my mind, i wish i could show myself the reality of what i imagine but it is far too great and just that, imaginative, that it could never exist in real life. why is it that the real world is so unimaginative, yet in my mind anything is possible and completely rational? people go to great lengths to reproduce their dreams and visions yet fall so short, disappointing themselves and leaving many shattered pieces lost in a forgotten hole. maybe that is why daydreams are the only escape, but i don't want to just escape i want to live the dream, i want to live the vision i create! ...

this sounds so ridiculous, like everyone has thought these things before and i am just now realizing a well-known fact. oh well.

i am learning a beethoven sonata that i am not very familiar with despite its very obvious popularity. the appassionata. i think it will go well, i have been spending a lot of my time trying to make friends with it and somehow... make it come alive.

i am so full of anger. hatred towards nothing in particular, just a feeling with nowhere to go and no particular time to shine. just constantly there. is any hatred natural, or is it all placed there by a subliminal force? i cannot hate something without being told why i should hate it, or shown what is hateful about it by another, or lured into the popular opinion of hating it. right? no one goes up to a grape and hates it on the spot. they might dislike it on the basis of taste, but to hate something so harmless is purely the doing of humans. i wish these kinds of feelings would go away and stop taking over my entire state of being when i least expect it. nothing is worth that hatred, this world has some terrible things in it but to waste my energy hating it would be to wither myself away faster than i am meant to wither away.

love is a much greater source of energy. it is an unending spiral of complicated feelings, mazes of confusion, infinite darkness and infinite light. it has no beginning or end, it follows no rules, it isn't created nor destroyed, it merely exists all around us and inside us for eternity. much like music. these are things we attribute words to yet have no idea what is really confined inside their essence, we just know the most basic and fundamental elements that present themselves to us as these things. we try to connect dots between them, find some semblance of meaning... despite all of our science and great leaps and bounds we are so clueless to the things that ultimately run our lives.

the end.


to be open 
delineate 
and savour

IT TAKES A THIEF

It's a really weird feeling when your heart breaks, and the waves that sent the heart breaking come from an unknown direction. You just know you should have avoided it, at all costs. You let yourself down. You let yourself feel empty and hollow, you lied to yourself and said that something could fill the void when the cruelty of nature demands that nothing could. It is an unfillable hole, passing from each bond you create and destroy with another person right through the center of your body... a wormhole. It has no dimension, no depth, just a presence that swallows you up. I wish I could visually represent this but I have not the skills.

I actually relish the feeling of intense and immediate sadness, for the most bittersweet moment is when you first realize that all was for nothing, and all was lost. You can finally breathe and rest your tired heart and your tired soul. You can stop longing now, you can stop searching and hoping, the long hard wait is over. Time continues but the struggle is over. Your mind can stop playing its tricks. Your sleep will be undisturbed by pangs of emotion and flights of fancy, and only daydreams daydreams daydreams will remain.

People are nothing more than warm bodies to rub against, to project love and fantasy-filled worlds upon, to weigh down with your own heavy, heavy burden. How could you ask that of someone? What did you really think would happen?

If only the feeling of someone's warm body beside you wasn't such a treasure, such a rare rare prize to find and keep for yourself. If only there were things more important to you than feeling the gravitational pull of a body to yours. If only late nights were warm and full of hope, the promise of rooms hidden upstairs or something like that, again... maybe hearts would be stronger, made of steel, truly ready for what can happen.

Protect yourself. Protect what is sacred. You are the only one who can do that for you, and when you fail, no one else is to blame.

me most of the time

have been listening to:

Aphex Twin
Federico Mompou - Piano Music
Nikaido Kazumi (二階堂和美) - Mata Oto Shimashita Yo
Burial - Untrue, a forever kind of album
Lana del Rey
"are you listening to what i'm trying to tell you?" (Carbon Based Lifeforms)
"i feel nothing more than existence/this is not paradise" (Death in June)
Eddie Marcon - 綿の煙の招待状
COIL



i took a walk late in the evening after a storm had blown over and washed away my sins, but the storm was still raging behind deep and far away clouds. picture a sticky, humid, golden landscape of fallen-down trees, an unsure twilight and blackened, dampened streets. everything dripped and everything smelled ten times more like what it was, everything smelled like earth and with the absence of a downpour - as if the absence of the rain that just dominated everything for many miles around gave everything new meaning. walking on your squeaky flip-flops through the carnage, you notice everything is different, somehow. billions of lifeforms teeming in pools and fleshy green beds of leaves and stems and shoots and buds just had their entire systems of organization and order wiped and washed away. along the lush, dark forested areas thick armored foliage bulges out with dripping arms asking to be shaken and released of the shimmering droplet dress it has been adorned with. there is no sidewalk, no path. there are hidden areas you must keep away from, but you are pulled to them because the road isn't for you. you are in a jungle hidden right beneath the noses of those who live there in the giant white house, yet you fear nothing because everything that might harm you is just trying to recover now... the lake broods and buzzes with newly relocated life, and the sky is gently, sporadically pulsating with energy. you push the branches away and climb over any number of fallen branches to finally see what you had came all this way to see - an unadulterated view of the sky, brightened by a distant setting sun, colored by the final streaks of sunlight, clouded by the remnants of a fierce storm, and the electric light show playing behind dark still-brewing clouds. nothing can describe the power and the beauty and the immensity that i felt watching the sky. it was so at odds with itself, the beauty and the destruction, the power and the naivete. i wished nothing more than to melt into it and experience the most careless thing in the world, the most heartless, beautiful thing in the world, and be one with it.

and so, i rest my head in the lap of music, i give myself up to it, and that is all i can do. it melts with me and allows my sorrow, it welcomes it and lovingly embraces all of the jagged edges, renewing me to a self worthy of the most fantastical morning sunrise over fjords and cabins and hibernating bears.

please, God, let me live the most perfect dream life in a snowy cabin far away, and let me have all of the music i have ever wanted to fill up my ears so that i may never be empty again. AMEN.

What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

call me when your heart is empty

summer summer summer
l'été l'été l'été



it's so hot i could die
life is going by so slowly
but not in such a bad way

music is there
reaching out to me
taking its time
and i am taking mine too

it's a wonderful feeling
to be completely
weightless in this season
of warmth, emptiness
and satisfaction

darkness is not welcome here
light and the shelter from it
neither hurt me
or make me feel less than

ME~

the random music, as always

songs: ohia - "being in love" from the lioness

jóhann jóhannsson - "odi et amo" from englabörn

dean blunt - "the redeemer" from the redeemer

bright - "lake killala" from point

plvs vltra - "parthenon" from parthenon