Night Diving

I've been on some creative block for some time now. I don't know, I guess part of it is finding a reason to do.. anything. The motivation. It's kind of like the formation of a wave. I mean all these natural forces in the world create the actual wave. Without the external, it would just be existing there as water. Does it give less meaning to the physical and tangible liquid that it is? No boundaries in a world where waves exist, almost in spite of the meaning we give or don't give. Little things happen and exist for that specific moment. When the waves come barreling down the rocks by the museum campus on the southern side of downtown Chicago, the ictus between them being and them not being is: the crash. Once it crashes, it no longer is. Parts of it splash onto the sidewalk- if lucky, onto the same people that determine their meaning. Most of it falls back into the water. Is there pleasure in the height of a wave? Or do people just think too much and make metaphors about dumb shit that nobody else gives a fuck about? I'm back to "I don't know." But. I guess it's better than "I don't care." So, I had a record button, 5 notes, and these instruments at my immediate disposal. AKA in reach of my chair, so I wouldn't have to get up. None of these instruments are mine, by the way. Andrea's ukulele and Jamie's trumpet with Phil's harmon mute An ocarina shaped like a little bird A canister of loose change Just ride the waves, like moving incidences, crashing into one another. I guess it's what makes life have momentum. Listen with earphones, I recommend it most: