miclitter

I sit rainsoaked from my walk home from work exuding stink. The dying halogen bulbs in the hallway to my bedroom click and flicker over the steady metronome drip of my faucet. the droning hum of the cooling fan and the whir of loading processes on my computer join the improvisation. This is the animus I wish to capture. I envy the talent of my surroundings.
The lights of my sampler beckon me. They want to be touched. This is the vehicle I navigate to affirmation... the manufactured means by which I create something unique. A synthetic environment of rhythmic, melodic noise. Something I can truly call my own. A place to escape.