If you forgot how to feel, reach inside your chest....
Entry #00862
I was laying down on this slide- a spiraling, yellow piece of plastic that has a big sign on it letting you know that it was designed for 2-5 year olds. Anyways, I was laying on it and listening to the sounds of the park. A few crickets, the soft hum of the lights, the rustling of the sorry excuse for foliage, and even the deadening silence of 95 degree heat at 11:00pm. Welcome to the sprawling urban desert, I guess.
I digress:
If I was going to make a film, it would look like that. Not the opening credits or anything, but some scene of solitude and thought. The entire soundtrack of the film is already planned out in my head. And to me, this movie I'll never make feels like my life. Sometimes (a lot of the time?) it feels like I am watching my life from the perspective of an outsider. Like I am a telefoto lens on a telescoping boom arm, operated by some motivations that I cannot even begin to comprehend. I am following myself around and going through the motions together with myself- feeling the heavy steps, feeling the cold air in my lungs, feeling the adrenaline and the anxiety alike. The movie is filled with music- random songs with words that are either too obvious, or so disconnected yet relevant that you're going to have to make wrong assumptions. And that is like my real life, because it feels like whenever I need to say something important or am digging inside myself for answers, all that comes up is song after song after song. My brain, the jukebox; creator of the soundtrack of my life.
What does it sound like?
I was laying down on this slide- a spiraling, yellow piece of plastic that has a big sign on it letting you know that it was designed for 2-5 year olds. Anyways, I was laying on it and listening to the sounds of the park. A few crickets, the soft hum of the lights, the rustling of the sorry excuse for foliage, and even the deadening silence of 95 degree heat at 11:00pm. Welcome to the sprawling urban desert, I guess.
I digress:
If I was going to make a film, it would look like that. Not the opening credits or anything, but some scene of solitude and thought. The entire soundtrack of the film is already planned out in my head. And to me, this movie I'll never make feels like my life. Sometimes (a lot of the time?) it feels like I am watching my life from the perspective of an outsider. Like I am a telefoto lens on a telescoping boom arm, operated by some motivations that I cannot even begin to comprehend. I am following myself around and going through the motions together with myself- feeling the heavy steps, feeling the cold air in my lungs, feeling the adrenaline and the anxiety alike. The movie is filled with music- random songs with words that are either too obvious, or so disconnected yet relevant that you're going to have to make wrong assumptions. And that is like my real life, because it feels like whenever I need to say something important or am digging inside myself for answers, all that comes up is song after song after song. My brain, the jukebox; creator of the soundtrack of my life.
What does it sound like?