the_silence_of_nothing c r 0 w l "inability to love is the central problem, because that inability masks a certain terror, and that terror is the terror of being touched. and if you can't be touched, you can't be changed. and if you can't be changed, you can't be alive." ~james baldwin, author countenance. appearance. the words we speak without opening our mouths. what others say about us when we are absent. we are walking advertisements. we sell ourselves to the market who desires us. a commodity in flesh, blood, bone. skin, and poetic justice. we are merchandise sold to the collective consciousness by our inertia as well as our stasis. if we do not dabble in self promotion willingly, we do so unawares. 080729 ... hsg some say music_the_most_efficient_language im starting to think it's silence. 080729 ... unhinged i don't listen to music when i'm on my computer much anymore. i have been teaching myself to appreciate silence and stillness. when you can work past silence being scary, it is a nice way to sit and live. yesterday she told me how much she liked me, why. 'because you are honest and you don't try to make things happen you just let them be' she is so sweet. it is nice to find someone that you enjoy their company and feel at ease. it also makes me think i am showing the right face to the world, it's just that most of the world is unprepared. silence is the most important part of music to me because it makes the notes more profound. my favorite rock songs even are the ones that have unexpected silence. first song that comes to mind 'thinking' by fly neurotic. awesome silences in the breakdown with a 7/4 beat. it's my favorite song of theirs. i wish it was still on their myspace. 080730 ... past standing on the edge of the canal, my eyes dancing between the water below and the stars above. music blasting in my ears so loud that it fades away and i'm left raw. the rail shook in my grip as i breathed to the rhythm of the cosmic ocean lapping against our lonely planet. i didn't want to leave that water, but i had to get home, to drink other waters and to cure my torn soul with sleep. the disappointment that welled up to the stars and waters was of myself. too many small things built up in that night, finally bursting, leaving that sad kind of rage where breathing hurts, as much as life feels beautiful in its darkness. i didn't know, and i don't know, but i let it pass. not my scene, not my heart, not my shoulder, and definitely not my night. 080804 what's it to you? who go blather from