my head is shaking with the speed of these disorganized plans. these thoughtful messages from some of the worlds most creative minds.
Im honestly surprised when my ears dont bleed from the constant ongoing persuasion of these hundreds of other artists. Every day these people communicate with us, and most are never listened too by their audience. Hundreds of years have gone by with these people, these rhythmic animals, trying to get us to listen beyond just hearing.
Our culture today is all noise.
Thats all we want now, is just something in the background, something we can just ignore when we feel like it. The walls pound with the sounds of electronic stimulation, the "artists" of distractions, the creators of sloth.
Im tumbling right now, listening to the moans and groans of whats-their-face as they sing and clap to whatever was griping them that day, at that place. You know the place I mean. You were there that time werent you?
New song, quiet. Now I can hear my typing, the murmers and groans around me. And Im in my own private shell. An invisible pulsating shell of shaking rhythms and beats.
a victim of this shell. sometimes the claustrophobia is just what we need.
I heard somewhere that every animal on this earth dies alone.
does that mean we trap ourselves into this shell to await a sooner death? To be alone all the time so we're prepared for the final song? Our last dance?
My fingers feel twitchy. are my ears bleeding yet? Do yours want to?
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