"when you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. when you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world."
--- Eckhart Tolle, Stillness Speaks
"he made his way through the toxic streets of Synchro City -- sidewalks and alleys flooded with the hardened desires and neurotic glances of a city that had lost itself in its strive to achieve. and what did it want? something else? something more? he walked slowly, without impulse. the crowds shifted around him, unnoticing, and quickly faded into the ozone smog. he looked closely at their faces as they went by. eyes locked straight ahead, shoulders lurched forward, hands clutching their possessions in desperation. the city was dangerous, he knew that all too well. he could feel the cold steel of his blade against the skin. he stopped walking. a woman crashed into his shoulder, spun around him. she caught her balance immediately, and was steaming off again as if nothing had happened, except the slight twist of her neck so that her mouth could exhale, "Watch it, asshole."
I'm just like them, he thought, even though i struggle against this, i fight this blind pursuit, i rebel. but it didn't matter, he was just a partner in a dance. the mortal dance of a world struggling to understand itself. he looked around . . . the tall buildings, the pungent stew of stenches, the frantic flow of the city. i'm just a drop in the river, he thought, being carried along just like the rest of them. he didn't know what to do, where to go. all he could do was stand there and watch, an observer, an audience to madness."
sonic stimulants:
Philip Glass, Glassworks
Bark Psychosis, Hex
--- Eckhart Tolle, Stillness Speaks
"he made his way through the toxic streets of Synchro City -- sidewalks and alleys flooded with the hardened desires and neurotic glances of a city that had lost itself in its strive to achieve. and what did it want? something else? something more? he walked slowly, without impulse. the crowds shifted around him, unnoticing, and quickly faded into the ozone smog. he looked closely at their faces as they went by. eyes locked straight ahead, shoulders lurched forward, hands clutching their possessions in desperation. the city was dangerous, he knew that all too well. he could feel the cold steel of his blade against the skin. he stopped walking. a woman crashed into his shoulder, spun around him. she caught her balance immediately, and was steaming off again as if nothing had happened, except the slight twist of her neck so that her mouth could exhale, "Watch it, asshole."
I'm just like them, he thought, even though i struggle against this, i fight this blind pursuit, i rebel. but it didn't matter, he was just a partner in a dance. the mortal dance of a world struggling to understand itself. he looked around . . . the tall buildings, the pungent stew of stenches, the frantic flow of the city. i'm just a drop in the river, he thought, being carried along just like the rest of them. he didn't know what to do, where to go. all he could do was stand there and watch, an observer, an audience to madness."
sonic stimulants:
Philip Glass, Glassworks
Bark Psychosis, Hex
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and in other news...
If you ever feel the desire to come to Phoenix, on April 2nd two of the Smiths (sans morrissey) will be DJing at this club i go to every friday night called Hot Pink. I figured there could be a slight chance you might be interested after looking at your Occupation.