ambient fool

"the other side of the wall of fuck," john lurie

all of these shows that i watch, all of these things that i do that i remark upon, even the art that i like, i think that it's all connected by a sense of ambience. not ambiance, that's something completely different, ambience meaning that they are very every day shows and sometimes the way the wire is curved into itself on the neighbours fence becomes an ambient thought. it is so very much with you for such a long time.

sometimes, after staring at the painting i'm looking at in a gallery, i'll look at the shadow underneath it for a while as well. and i wonder if the length of the shadow that the painting itself causes says anything about the painting in some sort of spritual or metaphorical way. does a longer shadow equal a longer state of admiration? economic value? does it stay in your memory longer? i don't know. but it's an ambient thought that is happening in your subconscious without your really thinking about it.

there are so many things happening at once that we tuck away in the back of our minds. it could be a whole alternate world in the space of our heads we don't use; all the shuffling of papers or shoes scraping against the pavement could make something wonderful in the other side of the reality. if reality exists, i haven't decided on that yet. and not to say that sounds as they are aren't already good on this side of reality, they are.

a lot of people have gotten mad at me for either being too quick or too slow. i never seem to be able to able to make a medium or acceptable. i'm taking people on joyous rendezvous, later that wonderful night is reworked into a nightmare. i tone it down because i'm letting myself get hurt by expectation, then i'm not talking enough. too loud, too quiet. too high-strung, too lazy. too niche, too popular.

it would be easier to go to that part of my brain that holds the shadow of the painting and stay there forever. quiet and i can stare forever at whatever i want, and hopefully i won't have a nagging feeling of wishing someone was with me. i'm alone now, and i know that in my body. i can feel it in my body; the hollowness. i'm unsure if it was always that way, if i've always felt empty despite my best efforts. some people are born to die. we all know that. i know that, you know that. the ambience of my head knows that i have loneliness inside of me, nesting and living in my rib cage. if it were gone, i'd panic. i don't know anything else. and at the moment, i can hardly think of someone who loves me in a deep, meaningful way that has some sort of impact on my life. no one watches me, but i still don't dance.

i like the production of madlib because it feels like history i can never touch is reaching past the present, to grab something from the future and pull it back. so many things are being received and fed into eachother, it's the beauty of living life at a distance. as though through a transistor radio ...

lonely is in the radio, as well. madlib's beats have lonely in them. the sound of knowing the best is both too far away and dead at the same time. i think so much about how far away i am from what i want and i can feel an ache in my heart that's worse than the normal pain of loneliness brings. i want to be nothing at all. i want to be a shadow on the wall watching everyone else live there lives until my film runs out. i'm so tired.

a short one for today.

free radio harley

i love you xoxo