Call me Musashii. Jino Maru!

SEE YOU SPACE SAMURAI...

Ride the rails through the storm towards a power outage of welcome. Listen to the thunder pound the metal, the streaks of raindrops scraping the glass. Your destination creeps closer, and yesterday is behind you. The memory of your joints in steady motion for days remind you of a recent past that feels more distant than the observer assumes. The dials on the wall separate the internal motions you feel from the external mechanical clockwork of the universe. Time responds to only a greater power than you control, a steady direction forwards, with hardly a flicker behind.  Waking from this point, you wonder where you were just a moment before. Flying lucidly through the throes of ecstasy until the lifting of a tiny muscle transports you somewhere impossibly close, which bears no relation to your previous moment. The experience is so familiar that you hardly raise an eyebrow. Step, step, twist, splash, scrape, smear, wipe, step away. You have entered the realm of the living flesh.
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Listen to the electronic universe, session 10.29 (self-serve): CocoRosie - Rainbowarriors

As I sit in motion

You think of a past

That has yet to happen

The wheels spin like they have before

Her chest heaves rhythmically

Packed tightly among strangers

The night passes quietly

While a magnetic dark shield

Extinguishes the spark

Tires rotate to specifications

Calculations meet their companions

In deep space sector six

Where a game waits to be played

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TRANSMISSION END

Exhausted by the hustle towards mealtime?

As the scenery flies by, I can't help but feel the desire to step outside of this boxcar and wander through the woods. The trees have begun their transformation in preparation for the winter that awaits. The lone house on the hill stands guard against the forest mongrels. This private wonderland is briefly interrupted by the detritus of castaways. Pools of fog collect near the abandoned outpost of a former generation. Neat rows of colour stare at the sun, carefully arranged unblinkingly. The steady pulse of fresh inspiration. A red sun stands vigil to a waking world. The birds have left us, yet we remain peaceably content to sit this one out.
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Give yourself a listen, part twenty-six (self-serve):

The Radio Dept. - It's Personal
Grand National - Cut by the Brakes
Beach Fossils - Adversity
Neon Indian - Polish Girl
Tame Impala - Lucidity

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Sit back and look up
Melt into your cushion
Raise a glass and sink

Sweat through a dream
The coherence of this morning
Reverses the trend

While in motion
You let yourself bend
Lucidity comes back to me

Sleep is overrated (says those who can't dream)

reflecting back
coloured mazes
blinking in the sun

generations told to become
aware of nothing
we celebrate the pawns
to misleed ourselves

once and always again
searching forwards
inside the hedge
waving in the wind
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Ahh yes, the internet. It's still around isn't it?

We haven't conversed in awhile. A shameless soliloquy moment. Brought to you by our proud sponsors. Customer service is our number one priority. Your call is important to us. Aging by leaps and bounds, fighting time with hair care products and hockey meditation. Will you find enlightenment in those yoga pants? Chase the rabbit down the hole, and find yourself knee deep in   gothic horror. Dark woods entrance spiritual adventures, hiking towards a river that has been known to exist but heretofore been undiscovered. Travelling with a companion to the nearest mecca of cool. I wouldn't do that. What is true for me is absolute. Enamoured by the female spirit. Exhausted from the hustle towards mealtime. Brief acquaintances corrected by spellcheck. Old connections re-discovered amidst dribbles of poison. Art shows concocted from pails of frenzy. Hop on a train. Snap calculated frames of places you'd rather be. Listen to stories from people who dampen their lessening moments in acts of diminishment, embodying the modern obsessive-compulsive destroyer.