Drying clay

It's 4:34am, and I am listening to my current favorite song, Cigarettes After Sex's "Cry". To why it is my favorite is often my explanation, or lack thereof, for the music, passions, & people I truly resonate with: I don't know. When things are so easily categorizable and parsed into lesser-dimensional spaces of what they are thoughtlessly perceived as, it brittles the clay pedestal.

My idling self-generated problem has possibly come to a close though, as I may have deciphered the basis for the piece's deceiving beauty. That first strum of the bass is a dart to the soul. You sense it lurking then swimming up to you, the surface tension. The bite is an instant, where it does not sting nor slowly dissolve, but ripples indefinitely. Though the red visually dissipates, just like on a white t-shirt post-bleach, the blood remains a faded stain in the vibrating ocean: was concentrated and will be negligible yet still ever-present. A normal distribution around that first note is a reminder that everything, nothing, and everything in between, is just relative to your subcover. They live in all tenses but only exist in you when they enter your view, which is both chance and choice.

Come to think of it, it is often the beginning of a song that saturates my neural strings. Like opening a door, or sipping an espresso, music is nothing then everything with the click of a button. Variety and subsequently relativity is necessary to assign a "favorite"; luckily not as often ranked like songs and albums, but arguably of more significance, are the mediums they take. We listen live, with a speaker or earbuds, or to the music playing in our heads. The off switch disappears, and I experience pain.

Suppose we represent nothing to everything as a scale of 0 to 1, assigned respectively. For the sake of the idea, let you, at any given time, be somewhere on this scale, for any set of variables imaginable. For a few months, I posed the question: "is it more painful to be converging in a diverging system, or diverging in a converging one?" Being conscious of the time of your inevitable death is an example of the former, and getting in an accident that results in paralysis from the neck down in your 20s is one of the latter. Touring back, I today will not leave unclaiming: the two are both pain-inducing, as they restrict liberty of direction. You either are stuck at a point, or moving towards 0 or 1 at some rate, both of which are unfavorable. The magnitude of pain derives from what the set of endeavors is and how much they are valued by you. Initially, I believed that what makes you cry should not be assessed by just your current state. But if the particle and wave are one and the same, then my point is, was, and will be unknown, just like my favorite song.