Wednesday, September 10, 2008

playing in dreams.

the evening seems like shallow surf where one wades, but could not get his feet wet. a scramble to view yet like a blind on Braille, barely scratching the surface.

just listening to Coltrane, melancholic and inevitable. the grit on the instrument, on the rough edges of brass, whispers in the twilight with tranquility in constant orbit. in someway, i thought, of both the eternal sadness and joy, in a dose of music bequeaths.

on the other hand, reminds me of colorful episodes of the years gone.

without the compunction, i reel forward to what is now. the lookback, merely, a glimpse. i see everything in consistency, an organized stack of presence. what is destined is what is i should be prepared for. but fate is a game of chance and destinies are gambled.

from a certain perspective one would see, the unending stream of the mind's images--the uncontrollable emissions of the mental camera. a profundity one can try to comprehend. perhaps, there are definitions. literal or introspective.

probably i was merely indecisive. but why, for all i care, comes in the wee? in the black of sleep, in the reverie of the bed and pillow party, a quiet storm in disguise. i believe there is the stress abetting. yes, could be a byproduct of who/what i am. the strangeness of it, albeit straightforward, and its relevance is purely coincidental.

but then, i think i'll have Freud explain that.

for what its worth, i guess i'm merely wallowing in the playground of my subconscious.

latest musing of Etchie at 00:57