Genres… Sometimes it seems there’s a defined genre for every other mix or sound. It all eludes me. It’s too much to keep track of. So, Subsaeris? (aside from a guy with a computer and a vibe):
It’s just about finding the right vibration for me, not a vibe or a mood, but a pulse or a vibration that cuts through the static of the world. It could be anything on any given day from thrash to trash or from ill to chill, punk to funk, garage to cyberpunk, house to reggae or wherever. There is no map. It’s just reaching out into the ozone and pulling things out until the right one appears.
Subsaeris came into play because of a snag on the words ‘future garage.” That’s it. No magic. No alchemy. Just chance. If you play it really loudly through headphones it’s perfect for the stationary bicycle.
I got back in last night restless, with the sensation that I let questions go unanswered with a couple fairly recent interactions in my life. That’s what it feels like but it could just be remorse. Feelings after all, are not facts. There are days of second guessing and that’s good to an extent, as long as it doesn’t immobilize me. I’m not trying to be obtuse. It’s just about a couple relationships with people that I let wither or end badly.
Badly?
That may not be the correct adjective. Not having a sense of closure doesn’t or resolution of feelings doesn’t necessarily mean badly. It’s just that I’ve spent such a large part of my life seeking closure and resolution on things that never came that I’m wary of exhausting time doing it again.
Can you feel me on this? Is it closure we really look for, or just the sort of closure that suits our own feelings or egos? Shit doesn’t always work out in our favor, so maybe it’s just better to always go for acceptance. Maybe acceptance is the only genuine form of closure.
And now I think of Robert Frost, the O.G. of poet Crocodiles:
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
I’m not eager to wish the summer away when it’s only just begun, but it’s not my best season. The heat just feels like an insult if there isn’t a corresponding summer diversion or activity. Subsaeris, by its very title here, The City in Rain, has a late autumn vibe. That’s where my heart is this morning, but it’s difficult to say if it’s a past autumn or a future autumn. The slight hint of melancholy would suggest the past. Future or past though isn’t of any importance. It’s time to let go and surrender to right now and all its inherent responsibilities.
I’m not quite there. I’m not quite ready yet. It feels like I’ve some other place to be and some other responsibility to contend with. The future and the past don’t pay the rent though so it’s time to carry on. Miles to go before I sleep, and all that.
What rough beast 