disc one track one - 10:00
writing to sound
visual representation of the sound's
and shades of sound
writing to sound
It starts up. Under the ears, around
Like an engine, but too perfect, purring, like an uncontrollable
It goes around and drips into little drops, getting bigger like
rain. Slowing down,
and speeding up. Like liquid iron rain. A car surrounding all
circles. A zone, a buzz...
It slightly gets annoying as it tickles at the skull, under the
ears, but the hairs dance.
Dark, and shaded, in true blackness . There are coins
of sound trying to expand and grow
a stronger magnetic field here. In different ears, on different
sides, like satellites to the head,
(which doesn't hear sound like this often... though it must exist,
with its own stage like this - somewhere). Circling, purring,
trying to live, perhaps just like life trying to hold itself in
primordial broth, where "it" first sparked...
Bubbling hope, trying to escape, to not break the bubble, but
dripping softer, slowing down, the engine has cooled, the pond
Lungs begin to puff. Puffing into circles again, of iron or atoms
or molecules, less hostile to life. Now like a fly, it circles
around the pond we managed to emerge from...
(by some mathematical probability, and depending on some perfect
putts and circles,
and things that emit sounds like this one) drilling the mind,
as if to make an elaborate set of roads in there. Through darkness,
and just for sound and light to zoom around in.
To make my head as much a void as the universe - though the void
does not exist spatially,
- but perhaps to drill more space into my head, so as to use these
for thoughts and other magisterial things that may wander and
and lean up against walls to huddle.
Like sound, coming into itself like circles, begging for life,
trying to push enough, but collapsing in, and trying again...
It seems we must always come back to this.
"It" still zooms in and out, slower and longer, straighter
and with more lax,
but too fragile, too much pressure packed into such a tight vessel.
Only electrons dance, making sounds by their interactions. Interactions...
This sound seeks interaction!
Perhaps it cries out for some other perfect beast to make harmonies
It begins to die like a puddle. Drips onto the surface, and sees
its own reflection.
Feels dizzy, produces a harmonic whimper, does a kind or ritual,
noble, but modest dance,
in its place... dark concrete and black metal shining... into
hard gray liquid skies.
Rubbing up again, creating crystal fields of sounds and rings
and away it goes - like a bubble.
passage of sound - the pencil keeps time
analysis by Sophia Male
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