My room, the chamber, where entropy ran supreme, is now reduced to minimalist sterility. An obvious reflection of the empty cassettes I gather. One day they shall complete the metamorphosis into an experimental tape collage. I will capture the pulsating, throbbing night out on Spadina, as it seeps in through the open windows of my alcove. Endless possibilities, dashed by the vast, expansive time that I have ahead of me. My brain yearns for the temporal confines of deadlines and exams.
My proposed self-renewing left-field musical experimentation is experiencing Zimbabwean stagflation. Thoughts have grown independent. I can no longer bare the teratology of my being as it separates like oil from water, rejecting my sincere proposal to supplant this room into the burgeoning cassette recording network. Dim, dim, dim.
I shall resign this dim mind to a dwindling and atrophied existence.
3 comments:
Science words inclusive of a physiology word towards the end.
Release the tape.
sometimes my mind plays out scenarios before fruition; this post is the precipitation of those thoughts. the tapes are blank, bob.
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