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Location: Laramie, Wyoming, United States

You write to breathe, for the air is too thin to hold words. You hide in false memories because reality is for to compromising. You dream to see, and speak to hear. There is no independent variable, just writing that feeds itself, always drowning. You stare down at your bleeding hand, sitting on a rock billions of years old, surrounded by trees and snow. The wind howles through evergreens, in your mind you can imagine the chirping of woodland animals had they not gone extinct. You watch the sun dip beneath the skeletons of deciduous trees, and your shadow casts across the lichen. This is neither empty nor full, it is. The hum of the interstate lies just over the next rock, you can hear it echo, reminding you that this place has been touched.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

v humanland club plasmid

Felt a really strong impulse to go skating today, and with my dinky little Toy Machine deck I cruised across campus in a 13 degree night, thinking of characters from Simulacra. Imagery from v humanland crossed my mind, and a subtle Latin chant started in the background, something like

"Let love come,
Let hate come,
They will bathe in our place."

I couldn't tell you what that would sound like in Latin, but it would need to be with a bass section for the first two lines, then a tenor for the last line, rising in intonation until "our place", which cascades a little down. Then a french voice slides in

"Je suis le mythe liez votre histoire, mentir comme un arracheur de dents. Je suis le amour requere votre haiziz, l'ordre reve est leger... ect."

Which though horribly structured, still serves as a rythmic vocal, serving as a sort of metrenome. Then a German voice slides in, deeply speaking

"Let our love bind our eyes to the dark, to see only what we will. Clear the world, leave sunshine and faith, let our minds become cells. The child you thought would never live, rise and become your new sponsored messiah... etc."

Ich weis nicht as to what that sounds like in German, but the deep voice serves as the vocal piece. I intend on a mixture of violins crescending down, but not in that stale predictable form commonly found in motion pictures but in a clear, distinct path, the notes should form a parabola forming our base, much like that when you take the Hardy-Weinberg-Clarke formula (q^2 + 2pg + p^2) and graph it. Then a bass guitar with a distinct Tool/Korn fusion sound to it drive in pattern with the French vocals.

This would be perfect for the sequence when Soahc (demon) leads Assagiz (human) and Mon Coeur (angel with brown eyes and wings) to the macabre club, with subsequent introduction to Hound (okay, re-introduction) and awkward scenes between Soahc and Truh (another demon). Not quite a montage, not quite a solid scene, it serves to build up apprehension over the slave's revolt and sets up Orv (human, mais origional). Have to be timed though, there would be a momentary buildup before most of the music fully forms, and it would have to be continuous, a flowing piece.

But still futile; something that no one else will hear or see.

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