O n L o o p s \ Animal Psi

I’m going to pick up on a draft post that got saved a few weeks ago: it started with the following three lines:

“Let music make new moments in life make sense”
– a spontaneous thought that faxed itself for a few split seconds before dissipating into shape spaces, motion durations, electronic communications. The IT department

Let’s continue.

The music attached to this post can watch on with me as the post writes itself in different ways.

The post.

When you look onto the world you see and feel and think many words.

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Eight Five Four Nine One Seven Six Ten Three Two

When you were one of these words years old, you were aware of the fairground and the rides: you saw people screaming in little carriages connected to each other, screaming as they hurtle on the rails. At some point, someone told you or showed you the loop-the-loop roller-coaster, and you both stood there eating, gazing transfixed, rooted to the spot, one hand sweating in your pocket, the other clasped onto the fairground food.

And then you traversed

And it’s four years old later: your friend’s talking to you in your bedroom and she’s showing you these loops she’s been listening to. You see them like feel them like

You see them like you, like the daylights like you, like the evening silences like you, like the slowed-up heartbeats like you, like the nothings and the pauses like you

Like the words don’t like you but you’re trying to find them, say them

Until the songs say something for you. And there’s nothing more important to add on, nothing to glean like paint, like picture frames, the wall speaks for itself, the experience speaks for itself, your love speaks for itself.

The songs string something slower, together, like the things you don’t notice when you’re walking at around 100 bpm through the darkness trails and you’re not listening closely to the shadows of your thoughts you’re only capturing one damp cobweb frame in five hundred

And the realisation of indifference hundreds down your face

You wish it would stifle the grey sharp material stalagmites from your stomach -stars building up in low light reflections in some forgotten cave terrain caving in like- night-stuck tiredness conjured from a bleary day

you stop wording, you continue listening –

Bleary, eh?


(the music from this post is all found (in)directly from the website http://animalpsi.com/ that specialises in tape labels and releases –
go over and check it yourself)

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