The exordium. 2013 is the first year since 1987 to have four different numbers. And what does this mean? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And next year will also have four different numbers again as will the next. Look, it’s called numerology. Translation: the desire to make order and uniqueness out of everything and nothing. Locus of control. Pathetic grasping at control straws. Harmless. But amazingly attractive as an observation.
New “studio.” The acoustics are different. Echoed. Cavernous. New studio. New recording situs. And the horrors of moving and relocation. It’s all here, my dear friend. A peroration of the year, the microscopic analysis of the evident and the not so evident. Is this making any sense?
The latest reflection of death. Thanatology as poetry. I love this expression and phrase. It’s beautiful. It reflects the unfair dismissal of death as some kind of cosmic mistake. An oops, an error; yet it lauds life. Now, I can certainly see the immediate advantages of life versus nonexistence but the sentiment is beautiful. Death is the awakening from the dream of life. The inevitable. The necessary. The programmed and required. Apoptosis. Programmed death. Dig it.
Hail, television! “What is a television apparatus to man, who has only to shut his eyes to see the most inaccessible regions of the seen and the never seen, who has only to imagine in order to pierce through walls and cause all the planetary Baghdads of his dreams to rise from the dust.” (Salvador Dali)