He's a cat and a pirate. How can you not love him?

On Freedom

Freedom is simple; so simple, in fact, that it may be compared to the work of Lou Reed, which is canonical in the halls of noise music. You may spend a length of time trying to decipher the simplistic chord progression, the very skeletal structure of the songs; but in itself, each song is oh so simple.

In the last 48 hours I have slept a sum total of 4 hours, and eaten what in most cultures would pass off as warm-up for a real meal. Why? In the pursuit of freedom.

When a Thursday is over, I take a moment to reflect upon the week. And I see ahead of me the only breathing room I'll have, fleeting as it may be, for what will seem like an eternity when it comes. And the drive for freedom, a drive that we are not versed in, a drive we are not made to exercise, a drive we have embedded in us, lurches. To be hungry, young and foolish; to grab the bull by its colossal testicles.

But where has that left me? What freedom can I possibly salvage from these walls of poor, peeling paint. The only freedom has a proximity extending till my skin. And that is good enough. That is enough to make life amazing.

To not worship reason, to abandon and neglect, to be the dense, sporadic erst of bees-- random, flowing and killer, is to be that free. To simply misremember norm at will is to be that free.

48 hours later, my skin needs changing. Hello world. Good day to you.

I've been in the wind, for a while. But I'm also the person that will spew a million rhetoric than offer a single straight explanation. That's because I can never do without illusion and poetry. But in explanation, I've been absent because I had better things to do.
With better things gone life is gradually shifting back to its former disharmony. I believe it's time I start writing here again and preserve the little order my life has. I do not believe it is time yet to have a shave. This means that the time is somewhere in between, where the touch of things long gone linger and caress my fingertips and the high expectations, apprehensions, hopes for the next chapter beckons. But I am not ready for the next chapter yet.
For now I need to continue my stupor my crazed tear binge my loneliness. I need to remain in the footer. I think I'll blog soon. About music. Pretentious music.
I've been in the wind enjoying my lover and now I'm left with the company of John Zorn and Sun Ra; criticizing Roman Polanski and rediscovering SM Sultan.