I sit, alone, using my
CD Player as a tool to explore my emotions. As strange as it sounds, I find that I use myself as a form of entertainment..
I look in myself and find emotions. Find feelings, with no particular importance or meaning attached to them, and I ride them out. At the time, I am involved with these emotions, there is a deep, almost obvious, meaning or experience attached with each one, but it is fleeting. Afterwords I can barely recall what it is that I felt, I only remember a vague trace of feeling.
When I am awake, I require a catalyst to start one of these trains of thought. As I listen to New Forms, I try to determine the order behind the multitude of drums that sound again and again faster than I can think. I am amazed at the power of the bass: How visceral it seems, the way I can feel it not just in my ears but in my body.
I recognize the repetition in the song. The same basic pattern, with small changes coming here and there, disappearing almost as quickly as they came. No way to track what has come and gone.. all I can remember is what is now.
Today is not a particularly involved day, I do not find myself inventing a story or a string of events, concrete or abstract, to react emotionally to. I feel like an observer. I don't know my place. So, I browse, quickly, through everything: My room. The TV. E2.. The web.
So quickly that everything loses context. Taking sections of a whole and examining these sections on their own. Suddenly, almost everything ceases to have meaning: Life beomes a Salvador Dali painting, surreal.