I had a dream yesterday night that I was having a dream.
More specifically, I had a dream in which I had a very vivid dream, and I woke up. The dream-within-a-dream was one that was very innovative and startling in its storyline that I wanted to write it down, because I was surprised that I came up with such a chain of events. Unfortunately, people started talking to me and stopping me. Also, I only had a pen in my hand, and couldn't find any paper, or even a computer.
Sometime in the dream (or the dream within a dream) I went to someone's house in which there was a Technics SL1200 mounted on a piece of ripped-off plywood.
In the end, I couldn't write the dream down, and I just woke up.
When I ride cars at night, within this city so yearning towards the west, sometimes I wonder if the westward vector and an eastbound position don't balance each other out, and that what I'm seeing every night passing by is pure modernity, distilled. The science of rectangular signs and buildings taken form, buildings without regard to architectural style, pure neon, light, technology, change seen only when things are passing too fast to discern.
Yes. Do-Ho Suh is very Asian, Confucian, Korean.
I can't do this. I really can't do this right now this instant and this hour, and by 'this', I mean this introspection concerning this and this tuning-fork twin-polar national oscillation. Thought has been a constant process undergone for several years, but thought can only get more complex, takes on issues can only become more intertwined. Really, all I want is NOW to not give a shit, the same way that Do-Ho Suh's figurines wish to defy gravity (and more). Really, all I want is my fucking standing waves to be three dimensional, my own sounds to be inductions of inductions of inductions or something, not limited to a single hyperplane.
I want to see you again, new york.
I am thankful for the small things, such as songs like the above.