flowers and painted forehead





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trying to forget

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[ Vee - Bee - ɛn - Dee ] 

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Boldly listening..

I experiment.

Dawdling through a little observation that I'm making in the time it takes to write this, an arrogant yet charmingly soothing voice begins to ask, "isn't the answer obvious?"
Hearing the almost rhetorical sounding sarcastic tone used, I realised it was my own voice. I hadn't really talked to myself in a while. We needed a break.
Don't feel bad for him, he's like one of those Christians that hates Christians because he thinks he's the only one that really knows Jesus.

With an almost off-putting but bewildering amount of condescending confidence he continued;
"Repetition in composition is inevitable with only finite waves to hear, the turn from chaotic into static and only so many years with your ears I fear my dear that the end may be slightly nearer than near in hearing musics mystical cheer. In hindsight despite and spite that we try as we might our bright light of mysterious musical delight may have faded into the night before our time in the light. Now might be time to try rise above and reflect. Think about the love that those timelessly nostalgic, mind-numbing beats left and those earth-shattering guitar leads that brought us to our knees as we wept, and what that brought into our lives instead. Or wait for our self driven demon technology to invent better ears."

With another short contemplation over a seemingly accurate observation, I have this to say... to myself.
Shut up, go back to whatever hole I hid you in and let me listen.

So in the meantime if by surprise my eyes de-synchronise and then begin to drop in an instinctual response to your door-slamming drops or finally I'm finding myself at ease in the feelings that play the keys in your melodic synth leads then expect a like and repost.

But if you've got that sound, a sound that surrounds and drowns the bounds of my existence with that tantalising tingle of cleverly disguised talent untouched by the wolves that hunt it so, that's when I really begin to listen because the reality of me has finally been evaded, my worries have evaporated, matter has disintegrated and all that matters within and all that remains are the soothing synths, the harmonising riffs and the samples I example my being's being on.
Then and only then, I begin believing I'm beaming my very being into seeing the present and beyond and before and any tribulational trial or existential denial dissipates destined to eradicate as your mind state contemplates a perspective of pure creation and joy.
From there the fair yet poignant point pointing right back at you is you.

Birth to Earth and back again, let's make our time worth living in.

If you brought me this sensation I will let you know in a comment.
So thank you for all you do my community of unity in intentional vibrational lesson expressionists.

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Captains Log 03/04/2018
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It's been a shitty few months, the potion to my illness is the emotional duress in the mess of our contradicting convincing conviction we sing called song.

Both my canine companion and beloved Pop passed away this year. This of course combining with all the other horrors of life, one of which also contains losing my job as a 3D/Motion Graphic Artist which was a dream come true unfortunately. But you know, time and all that jazz and I'll be rich and famous any day soon.
So on that note if you have any work I'm willing to do whatever nonsense you can't be bothered with.
I'm an all rounder creatively but primarily Motion Graphics, VFX and cool stuff like that. And I GUESS I can do some pamphlets and whatever. So drop us a line. In return I'll reward you with appreciation and a new pair of socks (presumably after losing yours when I blow them off with your new product).

E: jimpicard47@gmail.com

Artwork's by me obviously looking at the quality.