gradually then suddenly

4 souls, prozac nation, dark room, glowing tv, watching the ultra hot emogothpessimist christina ricci falling into complete and utter confusion-depression. And stuck in my mind, a line quoted from Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises" from the movie...

"gradually... then suddenly"

gradually for eight years... suddenly for a few days... depression is what the movie deals with... falling in love, that's what it is in my case...

bloody fucking melancholia sucks. stuck in a doorless, windowless room with a4 print outs, polaroids and photos of you double sided taped on the grungy, water-damaged, mossy walls is so goddamn unhealthy... a single yellow light bulb swings over head, casting long shadows rhythmically in all directions... i sat down, cros-legged, side by side with hendrix, morrison and che, lit up a ten feet long fourtwenty "captain caveman"... we sat and laughed, watching flowers bloom and die off from the fluffy white clouds that came out of our mouths and noses... we floated up into the ceiling, the roof opened up into a purple-red sky and the whole room morphed into a winged yellow submarine, flying us all the way to uk... and along the way, we dodged multicolored lighting bolts flying at us out of multicolored clouds... we picked you up and proceeded to climb high into the skies, passing demons and goddesses engaging in earth shattering, lightning generating bizzare sexual acts... we kept flying upwards until we reached and touched the surface of glowing hot stars... we stopped to roast marshmallows side by side with flaming moon men in antique diving suits, and their mechanical rabbit pets with eyes that shoot honey sweet rainbow love... we then nose dived into the aqua colored sea, breaking the surface like glass as we hit it... we were ejected from the submarine, sank hand in hand and i made love to you a million times underwater outside the viewing ports as they cheered us on with psychedelic light shows... we slowly sink into the deep dark abyss, surrounded and pushed together by millions of stinging jelly-fishes, giving us erotic electric shocks... we floated down like twins on a ultra slow uterus ejection ride, cojoined at the hips and the lips... and we sang, sinking still, amongst a thousand pods of singing whales with naked humanoid sirens riding on their smooth black backs...

fourtwenty isn't a cure all, it's far from it when you "wake" up sober once the high leaves... but it gives us breathing space... and we can all dream again...





Track Of The Day: Bjork feat. Tricky - Enjoy