💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ezines › textfiles › ezines › ANADA › anada11… captured on 2022-01-08 at 14:49:11.
⬅️ Previous capture (2021-12-03)
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. . . . . . . . . . "Ingredients"
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . by Effy
. . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
All that's visible is this simple, white screen. Audible background
of deep, moody bliss. A canvas representing the creation of infinite
dreams, visions, words... there's so many words, and endless combinations of
them. Overwhelming, it's inhibiting. What was created, hand-picked out of
the universe... what was the most complex itself created inhibitions for its
creators. Still here, still there. Still looking at something I can touch,
but what is tangible is not a product of my own mind... it's only glass.
Night smiling through the crack of the window. This is the time it
allows me. I turn feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, words into
phrases, and phrases into things I tell the world around me. In return to
what the night provides, I have much to give. Every tree, the dumpster, the
lawn, the broken glass on the pavement, encompassed by cool air laid back
against the colorless sky... it all contributes to each flicker of
inspiration, and is a common entrepeneur of motivation. Can't motivate
myself. Not anymore. It's like a drug, the night... a helpless addiction.
But day is just a disease.
The drug is the cure.
Seize the day, says the night.
Their battle continues.
Night cures the day, I cure the night. The "deep, moody bliss" of
music is a medicine man standing in the corner of my room. He works his
magick when I tell him to, and when I am temporarily cured, he stops
knowingly. It only reaches a certain tolerance of almost-constance, but
withdrawl is not incessant. It creates a deep shade of depression that the
night could never cure like the day.
. . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. anada 116 by Effy (c)2000 anada e'zine .
. . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .