Der Tod Des Ego - A(E)mbient Poetry
Jun 7, 2023 16:53:58 GMT
pol, maydonpoliris, and 1 more like this
Post by glitchyfrog on Jun 7, 2023 16:53:58 GMT
Had to get my feelings sorted, this helped.
Used the new sample function of the microfreak and had send via fxsend my voice and the mf into the AE to generate the ambient sounds.
At the end I jam a bit with the AE.
Can't write that long captions on sc, doe here is a translation for those who can't speak german:
The Death Of The Ego:
Doomsday 5:48 p.m
Without confidence I step out of myself. With scythe and cloak in mind.
Skull-grinding teeth gnash my next dental bill as I realize that everything around me seems to be black and white. And I don't mean that at all. Because things are just black now. Didn't things have color at some point? The sunrise, no cascade of gray, gray, gray and gray. The sea, not grey, used to be blue. It's cold in the deep sea and black, so black.
Black, Color, Condition, Feeling.
Is this what belonging to a roller bearing versus the escalator feels like? To spin forever, enduring the load of gravity and kicking feet to boot.
Well, at least it has a few roller bearing friends around, so they can whine together and keep shooting.
And the people, don't they see? are you blind They do not want! Or can't they? Do they even have to? After all, feet have eyes and Mi Casa is not your Casa!
The world yells at me that nature has been violated, and people stand guard and gossip.
Perceived brain cell genocide, joy and togetherness as you enter the city's predatory areas. The feeling of being chased by a dinosaur, but not moving despite running.
I wake up, did I sleep? 18 hours. Why am I still tired? Is there anything that makes me happy?
The fingers cramp in the bedclothes. Feathers sting me.
I live.
I suffer.
Am I a sadomasichist if I say I still don't have enough? Just enough of that. And now that the emptiness, the blindness, is finally forcing me to think, I kind of realize who I really am.
At least not like that.
I get up and on the way to the kitchen my eyes fall on the wardrobe: coat and scythe. In the reflection of the coffee machine I can briefly see the blue of my eyes flashing behind the diabolical grimace of the dead and go back to bed.
Think of the deep sea. Think of Pisces lighting their own path as they seem to be somehow the only ones who can light their own path.