Giving way for the fourteenth time. It’s giving way. My hands have this weight to them lately where I can only type when I think about it. It doesn’t come like a machine anyways, it never did. It was too deliberate and too hesitant. But now, I guess the whole goal of this is to just remove the disconnect between brain and typed output. I don’t know. The city with no record store; I guess in the age of the internet it doesn’t matter but it still strikes me as fundamentally wrong for the only physical place where people can buy music to be a Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart of 1997 actually stocked a better selection than the HMV of today. Music industry is dying. I don’t know how I feel about this.
Five times. I keep having these fragments in my head with numbers and so forth; possibly to be said in this wistful tone. The randomness of life is very insane. Scratch that. I’m trying to think of connection and the spark of life; these are qualities I wish to articulate somehow. What is really worth articulating? What do I need to say and where do you fit in? Sun drenched highway somewhere in Manitoba with a few bike riding life enthusiasts; the sun setting and the picture has that hazy film-like quality to it. I see a lot of quick cuts in time to music; “Finding and Believing” by Pat Metheny maybe…it has this sort of epicness and alienness to it. That third part when the piano comes in and the falsetto chanting cuts across it. Not particularly triumphal or anything, maybe a good epilogue soundtrack or something. I really wish I could describe music better but it’s impossible to distill the essence of a song into words. The best I could do would be all this technical jargony shit that you need a background in music to understand.