Entry Number Seven: Something to be hidden
[Private to Self]
Oh so private you wouldn't believe your eyes if you could see that. Or maybe I am lying.
D'you know what songs I listen to when I am alone? All alone, so completely alone, I have no strength to even sneer in dislike of my own pathos. Because even pathos - it is real, it is here, and it is mine.
I go, "Hi, Pathos. How was your week without me? Glad you could make it here, found the time and the likes. Must've been busy, huh? Me? Well, I wasn't all that busy. I don't have my band to begin with - but that shouldn't be a problem. Kir's around now. Yeah, yeah, I know he's a jerk. But he's a talented jerk. So, Pathos, know what I discovered? The sun is always brighter at the dawn."
We have a performance coming up in less than a week. How am I going to manage arranging that song? I finally have it though. Kir and I could work on it. I don't know if the lyrics are any good, but they're here--
Cruel is the arc of your scowling brow,
Cello-like your voice,
Heavenly noise.
In your eyes is the circling of crow.
Looking for prey -
my clay.
It is you I am forced to adore.
Silent, "keeping low".
But I grow.
The clay, full of gore,
Relentlessly I
compile -
The Demon - You.
I want the song to be atonal. Syncopated, breaking, prone to breaking and disappearing into nothingness. Like that fleeting feeling that I get.
Maybe I should send a thank you message - thanks for inspiring me, thanks for--...-- something.
I want to perform it at the party.
[/Private to Self]
Meanwhile, the road is waiting on me. I can see the glistening wet asphalt enticing me with its naked beauty (vulgar, you say?) - and there is one single line. I only have to follow that one single white line.
Who do I meet there?
Oh so private you wouldn't believe your eyes if you could see that. Or maybe I am lying.
D'you know what songs I listen to when I am alone? All alone, so completely alone, I have no strength to even sneer in dislike of my own pathos. Because even pathos - it is real, it is here, and it is mine.
I go, "Hi, Pathos. How was your week without me? Glad you could make it here, found the time and the likes. Must've been busy, huh? Me? Well, I wasn't all that busy. I don't have my band to begin with - but that shouldn't be a problem. Kir's around now. Yeah, yeah, I know he's a jerk. But he's a talented jerk. So, Pathos, know what I discovered? The sun is always brighter at the dawn."
We have a performance coming up in less than a week. How am I going to manage arranging that song? I finally have it though. Kir and I could work on it. I don't know if the lyrics are any good, but they're here--
Cruel is the arc of your scowling brow,
Cello-like your voice,
Heavenly noise.
In your eyes is the circling of crow.
Looking for prey -
my clay.
It is you I am forced to adore.
Silent, "keeping low".
But I grow.
The clay, full of gore,
Relentlessly I
compile -
The Demon - You.
I want the song to be atonal. Syncopated, breaking, prone to breaking and disappearing into nothingness. Like that fleeting feeling that I get.
Maybe I should send a thank you message - thanks for inspiring me, thanks for--...-- something.
I want to perform it at the party.
[/Private to Self]
Meanwhile, the road is waiting on me. I can see the glistening wet asphalt enticing me with its naked beauty (vulgar, you say?) - and there is one single line. I only have to follow that one single white line.
Who do I meet there?