please skip this (((I got locked out today. Forgot my keys this morning. Usually I have the security guards bust down my door with their keys but today I didn’t feel like literally acting out a half-baked sexual euphemism. There’s this stairwell right next to my apartment. In fact, if I took my moniter and bashed through the wall in front of me as I’m typing right now, I’d be able to see it. I sat there, stood there, locked out. It was nice. There was a bit of picturesque stretched out hundreds of meters beneath me. It almost tempted me to jump; the idea of a total absence of normal forces, what an idea. At first I thought it’d be a great place to read poetry and sing soliloquielly (my god, that could be the first line of a haiku). Some birds flew out, seeming to emerge from the door. I knew they didn’t though. Birds can’t go through walls. I set down on the cold steps, trying to read some grapes. No avail. I stood up, moved around. Warmed my ass. I endured through chapter six with cold feet and decided to go. I dropped some strawberry fanta colored spit bubbles off the rise just for lulz and retreated back to the warmth of puke green carpets and fake oaken doors. By incandescence I decided to get my poetry read.))) utterly useless bullshit garbage waste of
Speaking of time.
Where went it?
Just a moment, an analyzation.
If we look at the difference between music and art, we realize one key distinguishing factor.
The existence of time and timelessness.
In music rhythm, meter, and articulation are completely dependent on time. In fact, one could argue that music is created through an acknowledgment of time’s passage. Even pitch and timbre are dependent on time - the frequency soundwaves oscillate at creates pitch while the shape of the actual sound wave creates timbre (sine waves, triangle waves, square waves, etc.) And this is all without mentioning overall song composition.
However, in art(visual) there is no element of time. Perhaps different sequences can create different style qualities, but art is highly devoid of any sense of passing time.
Put simply, songs have definite beginnings and ends while paintings go on forever.
Songs end.
They end eventually. They end.
High school’s like a song, it’ll eventually end.
High school’s like our lives.
what does that mean? (apply your transitive property)
I feel fucking old. Today at sixth, this freshman girl was complaining to me about having to turn fifteen. “Oh my god, I don’t want to get old.” She’s so right.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.
Have I been spending my time well?
I know I botched, and I’ll continue to botch. But still. Was it worth it?
I’m going to die.
I’m surprised it took me so long to accept the fact that I’m going to die.
Oh drat, I botched this post.
Another failed attempt.