the fury within

sometimes a happiness steals over mattress, a frenzied flurry or curiosity, an ode to joy. everything is enhanced, brightened, colors tinted more deeply, movements quickened. this feels like the true state of things, this alacrity...it feels like m in his most genuine incarnation. the world is bubbling with movement, and one can twist it around one's fingers or thoughts like one of those ever-morphing frameworks of yarn that you sometimes see people playing at with their hands. tangible, accessible. happiness is perhaps not even the most apt word for it (but certainly it is a corollary result); something like wonderment might be more accurate. everything is its own pioneer, pirouetting uniquely and etching new patterns into the air with the frictions of movement. there are a few songs that capture this enchantment, dense works of chaos and sentiment. his most notable so far are 'tokyo', by the books, and the gradual crescendo of 'la noyee', by yann tiersen. the unspeakable poignancy of these songs tugs at something inside of him which grips it tightly; built steam screaming for ventilation.

in fact he is noticing an urgency in many respects and perspectives upon life, at least ones which he holds himself. he is starting to sculpt (non-visually, and without any tactile counterpart either....it could be said, imaginatively) out the shape of something inside of himself which seems to apply itself in multiple, if not all, venues of his life. it is a restless sensation, constantly fueling an initiative to drive deeper, to scrape out further towards any lights which may lie at the end of their respective tunnels. not in a negative way, though the metaphor might have seemed it at first. no, this is something like a fury, which, while writing, he realizes is a word with negative connotations....but strip the word of anger or vexation (well, maybe not all vexation) and you have a decent semblance of what he intends to mean by it. it is extremely elusive, and yet so apparent to him at all times...the phrase 'rainbow in the dark' comes to him, for whatever reason. he won't hash it out; sometimes one must trust whatever comes in a moment that progresses naturally from the last. he knows that this fury isn't specific to himself, and that all people likely have it in some capacity....some yearning beyond what is current or attained, some destination forever on the horizon. it formulates itself into passions, burning away the pages of a book or perhaps, blank notebook, like a flame. an uncompromising appetite. it beckons him to wander into untrailed areas off wilderness paths. it requires mobility of him, an itch sparking at the back of his mind that can be rubbed by relocating hither and thither, but never quite satiated (like one of those itches in the arch of the foot when one is wearing shoes, and has to wriggle endlessly in attempt to get a scratch on it). it alchemically mingles and fuses with all input, all output, asking him wordlessly to be better than he is, to achieve some beyond, some next level. it challenges, drives, buries the past in obscurity and the unearths the future in an apprehensive and sometimes false clarity, much like the sense of sight we are all so accustomed to.

it is frustrating at times, but mostly he envisions it as a positive thing. it churns often, altering the sense of what is important and what is trivial, constantly making him shift his footing to pivot in accordance with the new ground and maintain balance. it seems like a healthy thing, an intense thing; seems to lend some semblance of integrity and meaning to a somewhat undefined state of existence which we all share. the problem is, it is equally intense in its difficulty to focus. this is a life-energy we're talking about; it wants to dance footloose and bounce recklessly, unpredictable, all over the dimensions of possibility. and it always maintains a steel grip on him, dragging him along to whatever fields and corners it chooses to encounter. it is an energy with endless potential, but he is only starting to learn how to collect it (firefly in a glass jar. with a stick and a leaf to re-create the environment it is used to) and apply it towards the ends that he deems most important, most relevant to the person he is constantly in a state of becoming. it is closest to an emotion, and other emotions have empirically (but not from an unbiased perspective) been noted to send it scattering like an overexcited field of electrons. hard to keep the reigns on an emotion, he finds. even so, it holds the potential for anything you could possibly ask within it....it comes down to a matter of commanding it, which involves being true to one's self, defining one's self, and not falling to temptations and idleness along the way.

this fury is found inward, but is in a state of constant outward expression. and that is the relevance of the two songs listed at the beginning of this note...they find sympathy, or empathy, one of the two or perhaps two of the two, in the movement and bliss of existence. these songs express the joy of living; they are a natural accentuation of the rhythm of expression. they strip his observations of superfluities, and allow his mind to progress with the natural baroque pretense (or so he believes) of an underlying melody. they are part of his own melody; perhaps just a snippet or incomplete chalking of the equation, but help him to see things, to express himself, how he means to. basically, the place that they put him in....that place is his most organic, least-distilled character....the freedom and the joy of being, m.

isn't that interesting? he thinks so.