Droopy eyes. Half asleep. Half awake. Surrounded by blissful music, I write this post. Indie music, this is. Brain dead and lost, the music induces emotions even at this incapable hour. It’s more like an impotent state of the mind, yet there is an orgasm that’s so fucking soothing.
After chumming for days on end, I, at this hour have gone silent. Morning, I term this. Weird, maybe a little. While others around me are losing it by the minute, I slowly am finding my own. This is hibernation at work. I am surprised at my energy levels, the fact that I am putting this post together, makes me feel uncomfortable.
Oh, the music is taking me to Hong Kong. Yes, I said that. It’s very ‘Lost in Translation’ for me. I am Bill Murray. There is no whisky though, neither a Scarlett around. Yet, the quietude amidst the settled chaos is pleasing. In that Sofia Coppola way.
Time is breezy tonight, and I am just being a gull to the wind, so to speak. The eyelids are heavy. The kind that alcohol induces after a binge. But the mind is at its suspended best. Still. Settled. Placid. Not exactly placid. Am I fatigued? Yes. Is this an outlet? Maybe. Maybe not. But celebrating moments, acknowledging a heart pleasing substance is important. It reminds you later of an experience you would have rather forgotten. It’s like being a chronicler of memories. And I’m making one, as I write.
16th March. 2:08 am