westid

[l & r]

first time i listened to this song, i was asleep. dad would put the radio on full blast when he was getting ready for work in the morning, and a for a lot of time it never woke me up. you could bum me in my sleep i still wouldn’t wake up. i even get up and do things i still don’t wake up. so for most of the years when i was growing up i would frequently discover new songs in my sleep , and all it did was merge the song that they were playing into the dream that i was having. it’s ironic because even though someone was singing, i’ve been told by numerous doctors and nurses that that’s probably something to do with why i don’t think in a language. it always takes a while to translate what i was thinking into words, and you just can’t do that with a song. well, you can, but not as easily as you might think. sometimes i don’t know what to say so i will just send someone the song to try and convey. once again, not as easily as you might think

sometimes i just think i can’t be assed to explain, because what would be the point in that? nobody will listen, but when you blast out a good tune and sometimes. sometimes it’s like a music video, you know because i’m seeing billions of images memories and thoughts and the only think i can associate them with is a sound

anyway dad was blasting his music, i was asleep. he was selling cars at that vacant patch of ground at the botom of bury road next to the chippy. i was driving cars. i’m not into cars, but if you like computers it’s very similar to if you like cars. now, most new cars you can get have computers in them… which i thought was a fucking brilliant idea. often you would dream about what new technology or things we would have in the future, it detaches your mind from the reality of the present – then think about how you got by before all this shit you like was around … and it’s only in that chain of thought you can think about what a fucking good time it is to be alive

for most of my life up until this year, when i had it confirmed [no one was surprised] that that “i’m just a mad cunt who doesn’t think in a language” feeling was actually something else completely. nah.

you can still have autism. not the anxiety/depression combo version, the original. and enjoy your fuckin life. i can’t explain to you why this is, but as with most things throughout the whole of my life i can’t get through one sentence without being savaged by 159 different songs in perfect running order all at the same time. i will forget what i’m saying immediately when i try to say something important

what would you do for synaesthesia [that’s one of the proper names for it]? would you pause the ordinary? a lot of people seek this sensation in a number of activities i’ve done and seen people do. the only cost would be ‘normal’ – everyone wants to be normal. it’s like most things, if you want something so bad you’ve got to be prepared for going through normal shit for it. and that’s what it is. normal is an offensive word these days, but words don’t bother me. i’ve tried, and the closest i ever got to the way something looks or feels like – i will write down all of my distracting and inconsequential thoughts – was music. the very fabric of the way i think, but can never express

so there are actually a number of songs i first heard when mad shit was going on in my sleep. sometimes, even years later, if you hit the right notes ….. yeah what was i saying? i forgot …