When it rains, close your eyes

When it rains, it is often nice to find that you can close your eyes.  You can follow the sounds without having to see and your body can move with improvisation.

Today, I worked on music all day.  The raindrops outside felt like millions of amplifiers sending out the sounds----Or liquid crotales resonating...

Oh, i was just sweating sensitivity from my eyeballs...

How does one control this flood of emotion that radiates from some unknown core?
Language began to fade into murmurs and buzzes; jokes were stabs of "why can't you understand?".
Slowly, translucent walls grew labyrinthine around me.  I could see out, I was there, but I was apart.

and so i perspired, out my eyeballs.
and there is just no proper deodorant for sweaty eyeballs.

W.A.N.D.Y

We are not dead yet.

Sparklers sparkle to fill a whole

Dear :
the lights are always volatile
and shatter
into electric icicles
over and over and over

What am I saying?
Ah, in hopes
that it always goes to one.

Between dreams and awake

I dreamt something last night that was wonderful and at some point felt my body at the verge of waking. However, I did not wake entirely and was completely unable to move my body and had not 'let in' the lights, sounds, shapes of the world. (I cannot even confirm if this pseudo awake state was even real or part of a dream)

In any case, whatever it was that I had felt in dream, moved by it, I felt tears. These tears that warm the body and the mind, because they are so unreal, seem grander than they may even be. They equal the greatest yearning, the grandest wave, the surfeit heart of something completely undefined.

I'm crying for what reason? Such emotion for something that was literally a minute or less of REM sleep?

I'd like to imagine our souls and minds having these little vials of pure emotion. They are slowly consumed like a secret elixir. But every so often, i'd like to imagine the vial bursting and emotion just bursting from your every pore, so much so that you even cry---and the tears are of another substance. , maybe even part of that elixir that had burst...

Screaming, when overtaken by a Cassavetes calm, I meditated to the Benzene ring

Over the course of many a night...all blurred into one long self-imposed bout of insomnia, I decided the solution was to see Mogwai live and while the auditorium speakers blew out my eardrums, scream to the top of my lungs. That way, all rotten blackness could be purged. Lately, the distance away from my family, the band trying to resuscitate the energy that was stolen by obligatory military service, break ups, and ultimately, my incapacity to speak 100% Korean, in a way that i could just be myself left me feeling abandoned by my own poor judgment.

ah, slap in the head. a whisper from the internet wavelengths, and bam:

John Cassavetes said in his interview on life and love, "What I think everybody needs is a way to say, 'Where and how can I be in love so that I can live? So that I can live with some degree of peace.'"

Satori in the night!

The last concert I did, who did I play for?

I don't even remember. All I remember was the beautiful yellow lights flickering from my Korg Radius module, a UFO to take me places.

Who did I love then? There were no fine precarious balances at all.

oh benzene ring, how i love thee.

Only for a few seconds each day

but ever-present...

world,

do you know how madly in love with you i am?

yes, you!