Linear Memories in Cyclic Time
C Roshan Machayya and I have some really really weird music lined up for you. I’m not sure how or where or when to place it musically, whether I should attempt to draw out all the influences, or whether I should not. It is it’s own story, that much is clear for now. Borderline musique concrète, borderline ambient, and definitely as experimental as our states of minds.
a) — 1 — The entire memoir — or journey, or whatever you eventually understand it to be — reeks of of decayed memories haunted by devastating beauty; haunted by life itself.
b) — 2 — And so in decayed memories there is life; recursively rendering memories silent, and haunting itself.
b) — 3 — When a person dies, memories change. Portraits remain, a valiant reminder of shifting memories, but portraits change more, for memories tend to connect to a stronger base: emotion.
c) — 4 — Your linear memory continuously steers itself into a cycle over time, and the cycle grows larger and more aimless as you draw from memory more. Grasping at dusky fog, your linear memory decays in cyclic time.
c) — 5 — And in decayed memories there is life: impermanent but omnipresent; pale reflections that exist only at the edges of half-remembered dreams.
a) — 6 — The entire memoir intimately speaks about the meaning of life. But by its conclusion, you realize that the meaning of life is younger than life itself.
Someone told me, not so long ago, “…extrapolate on abstractions when your ideas obviously stem from something much larger, beyond human understanding, clearly.”
I intend to draw from much further, extrapolate to the furthest realms of our consciousness. I intend to answer some of the most difficult questions I have ever faced. Maybe that’s where the gateway to the subconscious lies. ❤