Yeah, yeah. Just stuff. Thursday afternoon stuff. Mostly music stuff. Last post of the week, like. I'm tired. Knackered, actually.
I should sleep more. But I don't like sleeping.
I've been having dreams lately inspired by all the hypnosis I've been doing. That's proof that it's going into my subconscious. 'Result!' Yes.
Oh, following on from what I wrote in the last post ... it's really important that I write the greatest songs ever. And not just for a career. No! To prove to people that I'm in touch with the cosmos.
Songs beyond human limits!
Think of Beethoven and Mozart. They were moving in the right direction. However, symphonies can be too long and boring.
Now, I'm listening to the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth.
[I haven't got any Mozart on my media player.]
Now, I'm listening to the first three minutes of the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh. Only three minutes of it!
Do you understand?
Also, it's like applying for a new position. When Beethoven and Mozart died, do you think the cosmos just dumped their souls on to a scrapheap? Or were they given a promotion?
They're out there somewhere ... RIGHT NOW - !!!
I'm absolutely convinced of that.
Also, the world is full of dirt. Isn't it nice to show a dirty world what is possible, if you really push yourself?
Of course it's nice! We should all be setting an example.
Words can be important, too. Like Nothing words, or ... Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow ... words, words, words, you dig?
If the words are grand enough. Got to be grand. Put them with the music. It can be something special. Like, uh ... Imagine.
Or Nothing.
Now, I'm listening to Beethoven's Ninth. All of it! / Karajan, [1977]. The very best! A great shaman!
I can't be bothered to judge Karajan. He has probably already been judged by some cosmic force.
I can't imagine why someone with such spiritual power would join the Nazi Party in, uh ... 1933. I mean, 1933. It was a bit early. Do you know what I mean? Talk about dodgy!
'It would be dodgy in any year, Mikey.' Yes, Voice. / Should we be pleased that it wasn't 1920?
Never mind. Artists are strange. People are strange.
And the world is a sewer.
...
Well, I hope you have a nice weekend, dear reader(s).
