Marina (not the one you think) is a glorious new inspiration. At the same time she exposes how fiercely ignorant and worthless I truly am. Strangely, last night I dreamed of Marina (this time the very one you think). Or was it really her? I was confused in the dream and confused upon waking and even now I am not sure. Things were painted in broad strokes of teal and violet.
Paperbacks used to guide me to new thoughts but now the pages and my brain are similarly empty. I think a group of penguins is eagerly waiting to be fed. I'm going to read a book on an ancient Indian philosophy soon. I prick you.
Lately I’ve been listening a lot to David Bowie’s 1997 album Earthling. What a fascinating piece of work! I adore the idea of unexpectedly loving your new touring band so much that once the tour is over you immediately set about recording an album in order to capture that fresh and raw energy. I also love the use of Jungle and Drum n’ Bass sounds. I just fucking love the album, that’s all! Mad props to you Bowie! 1. Outside and Earthling. I can live inside these albums and I am home. Maybe I can die there as well.
I’m listening to the 1997 album Donde Estan Los Ladrones? by Shakira right now. Track 4 is titled No Creo and maintains its status as one of my all time faves since my initial listen so many years ago. Oddly, it is now reminding me of a woman who I have not thought about in nearly as many years. They are pleasant thoughts, if a tad bittersweet. Part of me wonders is the tinge of sadness I feel is not so much related to her as it is to the ever dawning realization of my diminished capacity to feel things in quite the same way as before. Ah, the beautiful way I live without. Please don't ever leave me.
The doors of perception were open to me for just a bit last night. I loved you so much. Thoughts were already turned toward the future. Why am I already writing my four last songs? I guess it is oddly fitting it should begin on a Sunday.
I have an image of you where the sky is growing dim and your hair is being swept back in the wind. The ocean is before us and I have never seen you so calm and your peace is mine. It is like I’m watching from an old movie reel; it is grainy, the colors not as vibrant but in an instant it focuses on your smiling face and it could not be more perfect.
How can I not worry? Every day there is some new and awful thing with which to contend. Is someone just counting down the ways until something turns truly fierce?
It is complacent sometimes and in general it is far more calm than I ever expected. It is raining outside and I can hear the sound of it on my window. That color and sound is its closest approximation and in that sense it is unexpectedly lovely.
Sometimes there is a wall of ice and it is unbreakable. Its creation happens in an instant; one moment there is nothing and the next it is there and it rises higher than either of us can make out.
Have I been shown the proper way? It looks like it is all there. He has such strong desires to submit. How horrible are his thoughts? Are they only creating a path to hell?
I feel your love so strong in the moments of fragility. The figure of a woman. Am I wrong? Am I only a sinner and nothing more? I do not recall the first time I knew you.
Others ignore or laugh or do not care. And I imagine. Is it the same thing? Can I really say I am any better? In all likelihood I am worse because my certainty does nothing to diminish my capacity and desire to do wrong.
What will happen when it is gone? Where will you go and what will you be turned into? The world will continue because the world does not care.
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