One Emotion

Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. Another space: One Emotion, check it out.

June 22, 2004

Play with me bass…

You are loaded, bloated, elated, and intoxicated. You sip drink after drink, each one with its own savor. You are no longer here, but you still exist somehow. Each drink awakens a particular sense. Everything feels like you never felt before. You revert to your basic, most impressive instincts: every perfume is a delight, every touch is sheer pleasure, every kiss is pure renewing ravishment. You put on some music, good music, fuckin’ good music. You are no longer here, you surely exist, but you really don’t know that you do.

The keyword is “exist”: you are in your own world. You exist only through the wondrous beats and rhythms captivating your silly but active as ever mind. You think about nothing, and everything. You are nothing and no one. A deep breath, you are here still. You are there still. You know nothing. You feel nothing. Yet, everything makes sense. All that you’ve know, lived through, sought for, cried for and desired lies now clearly in front of you. You face nothing, but see all. You’re at your lowest point, and you really know yourself*.

The keyword is “self”: you are now someone else, someone that isn’t you, but that can’t become who he is without you. Or maybe, this is just plain old you in a radically different perspective. All your hopes, dreams, desires, fears, regrets and sorrows mingled with the toxic elements you just imbibed and the hypnotic beats surrounding you arouse a particular state of being, so pure, so simple, so damn powerful that you can’t merely deny. You are now what you never were, ever is and what you will be, you are who you really are, no extra flavors, no supplements, just raw unsharpened, unshaped. You are no longer forged by social boundaries, tradition or morals. You are free. The music you play reflects in your most inner self. You live the music, feeling its every beat, variation and tune. You breathe by the beats. You breathe through them, for them. You are a slave to this music. You are not free, but happy, intoxicated.

The keyword is “intoxicated”: the music is a spell tampering with the deepest parts of your mind. It’s just the only thing you exquisitely feel. Your alcohol level is sky high. Your mind is fighting this sudden rush of artificial elements. The fight feels good and that’s what it’s all about. Your mind doesn’t respond correctly or correct anything anymore; you discover your true identity. You are lost. You are no longer here. You are no longer holding back any memory or thought. Suddenly, for a brief moment, you awake, to find a friend or a lover. No talk or look is necessary. There is a strong, maybe wasted, connection between “the wasted”. The music is hypnotic. You are numb; comfortably numb (Pink Floyd fans, Hi…).

The keyword is “comfort”: music is my life, well a good part of it. In all that I have been through, music was there. Music is just human experience nicely put into elegant sounds. To make this point clear, Imagine this: you’re making out with a girl, the moon is high, her perfume is all over you, her kisses are all over you too, for a moment, you stop and just listen to the music playing and say: “Damn! This is soooo gooooood”. The “this” is not necessarily just the music, the “this” is the experience as a whole embellished by the music. Whatever the situation, music will bring its own dimension, this will broaden your perspective, and this is always gooooood.

* Quote from the movie “The Salton Sea”.

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