Thursday, September 08, 2005
A Lack of Reason
Lys writes :
"The first theme sounds hauntingly sweet. Beautiful, full of memories ... and when it modulates to major key, it sounds rather cheerful but too short, too short ... it seems to be cut off suddenly.
Then there is an abrupt stop in the middle just before the 2nd part. Too sudden, too disruptive.
2nd theme (2nd part after pause) sounds bitter sweet. searching searching..."
If only you knew how close you came.
There are reasons, for everything; reasons even for that abrupt stop; reasons for the very form of the song...
... and reasons why I cannot complete it.
Because "words" are not enough.
*****
He ranted at her... he wished he hadn't; she was so sad already.
A beautiful premise... but...
...hollow... so, so hollow.
And in a fit of self-centredness -
Like my life.
*****
He's off now to visit LMD in hospital and wish her well...
as he's text messaging her to ask her if she'd like to come along, he realises what has been so special about this little group of watchers.
As flaky as it sounds, in this strange cardboard effigy of a city; in this weirdly depersonalised "social experiment" he drags himself through day through day... they're somehow... real.
*****
Let's go.
We can't.
Why not?
We're waiting for Godot.
"The first theme sounds hauntingly sweet. Beautiful, full of memories ... and when it modulates to major key, it sounds rather cheerful but too short, too short ... it seems to be cut off suddenly.
Then there is an abrupt stop in the middle just before the 2nd part. Too sudden, too disruptive.
2nd theme (2nd part after pause) sounds bitter sweet. searching searching..."
If only you knew how close you came.
There are reasons, for everything; reasons even for that abrupt stop; reasons for the very form of the song...
... and reasons why I cannot complete it.
Because "words" are not enough.
*****
He ranted at her... he wished he hadn't; she was so sad already.
A beautiful premise... but...
...hollow... so, so hollow.
And in a fit of self-centredness -
Like my life.
*****
He's off now to visit LMD in hospital and wish her well...
as he's text messaging her to ask her if she'd like to come along, he realises what has been so special about this little group of watchers.
As flaky as it sounds, in this strange cardboard effigy of a city; in this weirdly depersonalised "social experiment" he drags himself through day through day... they're somehow... real.
*****
Let's go.
We can't.
Why not?
We're waiting for Godot.
