I need to see this again. Before Springbreakers.
Destruction is a form of creation.
And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits
Tonight I remembered who I was. 11 years of age, autumn, lying in a single bed adjacent to the door facing a pale yellow wall. I was sick, I don’t remember why or how. It was enough to leave me in bed for an entire day. I watched the sun paint it’s meagre self around my small room. From wall to wall, reflecting the mirror, vaguely circular but becoming oval, changing position hourly, half hourly, paler, in cahoots with my malaise. And the sound track was Mary Chapin Carpenter. Come On Come On. Every note, every chorus crescendo reminds me of that melodic awakening. Only a Dream. The autobiographical sentiments haunt my subconscious still.
This was me. A me unperturbed by people. And their irrelevancy. An irrelevancy I wish to reacquaint myself with. When there is only you, a pair or huge headphones and what has now morphed from a one deck tape player to an ipod replete with among else, a childhood’s worth of notes and melody.