With leaden arms and a woozy head I paused to survey the abundant musical landscape, I had come here I search of something 'experimental' and now I was taking stock of the surrounding area as my motor functions continued to float somewhere beyond the realm of normal practicality.
Skinny withered fingers flash across the touchscreen and dip in and out of new releases like some kind of malnourished Winnie The Pooh feverishly tasting from the honey pot using the sense of sight alone, discarding those that don't look right, those that don't appeal, with no real sense of why, but when I've found it, then I've found it.
And I've found it.
I've found the voice that speaks to me.
Speaks to me through poetry. Speaks to me through brevity, and beauty.
Speaks to me through complexity and pretentiousness, because I love finding something that it can be a challenge to love, I love holding my head up and declaring that perhaps my taste is the emperor's new taste.
But above all that I love passion.
And I love the dizzying power of creation.
This dainty and lithe creation that was spawned of minds and now beams directly into mine. Words and sounds, definitely poetic, occasionally musical, purely avant garde and now a part of my life. Fleeting glimpses into other lives exist here without boundaries or formulas, these are snapshots of genius fused to maverick productions, both feeding and solidifying each other in the symbiotic process.
I found this.
Or did it find me?
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