Have you ever felt that you have been exposed to an overload of information? Have you ever had to deal with the realisation that time has passed without you even realising it? Have you ever felt as if a wormhole has sucked half of your brain in it? What day was it today? You have. Of course you have.
I wrote and destroyed two shitty poems. It is not fun when you type them on the screen of your digital prisonguard. Should they have been on paper, the sound of the paper being torn could have awakened me in some way. The transversal vibration of the whole paper in conjunction with the friction or the fibers snapping would suffice to lubricate the gears of mind to create something more honest. But I did. And it felt like a massive relief. Word games are funny. Trying to find the correct word to keep a rhyming pattern seems to be the key to connecting with the mess in your head. When you do find that correct word you reach a beautifully expressed mental orgasm. It feels like a million tiny pins have touched your exposed and tense skin to open holes for the light within you to be revealed. As the light escapes it drags out all the tension that gave rise to the obsessive desire to write that song in the first place.
If anything the process is like forcing yourself to vomit after having drunk too much. You burp a couple of times, which does make you feel slightly lighter. But that only makes it build up even more because you are close to depicting the recursive thought in your mind that has incorporated every absurd feeling, but you are not there yet. It is still inside and someone [yes, you and your addictive urge to express it] is blowing even more air to the thought balloon. You feel that if it bursts it will vanish without leaving marks. This is exactly how a grain of sand turns into a soul-eating giant in something under a minute should the correct lighting be applied. When you do paint the giant, vomit your guts out, burst the thought balloon…you experience a revelating silence. This is the only silence [away from nature] that will ever remind you to be alive. That was when I delved in yet another obsession – the obsession of finding the right melody on the piano.
After that orgasmic morning, everything else was a blur. I guess I was trying to ease the friction and movement that had overwhelmed my body. One of my most gracious hobbies these days is leaving the print of my bottom on the same chair in the kitchen. It is delightful and awfully strenuous. You have to recall the movements you have performed the previous days so that you don’t reiterate them. Besides this would totally ruin the authenticity and the precision in the depiction of your bottom. Before I knew it I was back in production, creating music using the keyboard whilst also occasionally glimpsing at the monitor before it. Okay…whatever…I was working after that for hours. I even watched a lot of animes that are now available on Netflix…for work!
Much like after any inglorious day, I chose a random topic to overanalyse -one may say-…in order to awaken my desire to exist. Yet at this point, criticising someone for overanalysing is only acceptable if the person criticising is having fun out in the streets. Highly unlikely scenario. The topic that I chose to penetrate my mind today was what is inspiration. Having finished today’s blog entry, I can proudly say that I am close to answering it. It is exactly what the present text is lacking. Night night inmates.
featured image: Opacity.us