Thought I'd throw this out there.

I'm taken with a band called Nouvelle Vogue. I enjoy their sound--crave it sometimes--hollow percussions over a rather swayful rhythm. Its the kind of music you listen to alone, in the dark, imagining yourself to be something other than what you are; imagining yourself to be unhuman. During the in-between times, I need to go to places like this, these dark, abysmal places that somehow keep me grounded--removing my reality, replacing it with another perception. It is in these moments when I cherish my loneliness, my solitude--feeling empowered by feeling nothing.

I am reading a book called Anil's Ghost, taking place in Sri Lanka, written by the same author who did The English Patient. Perhaps those words are feeding these. Theres a sensuality to the book, derived no doubt from the inherent spirituality of the culture. Its very fluid, and sometimes leaves me empty. I like that. Closure can at times be so contrived.

The irony of what moves the human soul.