My eyes were on shade of sunset light casting on the concrete wall when the needle touch on the track.
I am not quite sure how many people notice that those track on a vinyl is indeed a spiral. So, technically, it is only one track. Just one long track that produce a cause of changing sound and different songs. An with only one track, the sound come out in mostly in stereo. Double trouble. It must be a hard work for that small diamond needle that run trough it. Multitasking, I will say. Not only it has to distill the analog sound from the track, but also has to guide itself through the track and control sequences of the whole show on a recorded side. Left brain and right brain at the same time. Sound very much like an architect.
An old architect, perhaps.
The sound from my player runs trough my 30 watts tube amplifier. Analog machine amplified analog sound. This is supposed to so pure. In fact, I am not a type that opposing to technology or digital sound but surely this kind of analog purity offers you certain warmth you can’t deny. More to a woman than a girl. Kind of mature and sophisticated. Clever but friendly. Someone you can talk to. Someone with soul and not just about the face and the body.
I flip on the other side of the sleeve cover. The song is: Last Leaf.
Damn it. This is not helping.
I never accept myself as a lonely type. That will be quite pathetic. But I found myself alone as usual. NO. It is ok. I like being alone. You don’t waste your time for anyone else. So you can fully dedicate your life to your work. When you are free from your work, it is only yourself that you have to fulfill. Bloody selfish bloke. But who cares? Of cause who would care. You are fucking alone. There is no one to care.
I think love is for the lame. Those who cannot live by themselves find mate. Those who are weak they fall in love. Love is such a an unsophisticated state of human being. A link that bridge a divine soul to a primitive instinct that was natural created and lead to mating. Reproduction. Great minds do not need love. They may need food, though.
I open my fridge and I am very pleased. Every bottles is in line, packed, and placed in perfect chromatic order. Fruit and vegetables care fully hand packed in a clear plastic container. Each of them probably all came from MUJI, if I remember well. They are all arranged with synchronized proportion. I grab one glass bottle on the second shelf from the top. I always have those yogurt in a glass bottle. Bad habit I got while I was living in London. I did try eating yogurt from the local plastic container once but felt like eating also a plastic yogurt. Luckily, my special supplier can always feed me with that daily imported from UK. Sound like a bad boy, isn’t it? It is ok, I think. At least I can make sure that my money is well spent.
The sun is going down and the orange light on the concrete wall turn into more like a pink colour. I can’t help myself staring at this last light leaving this Sunday behind. It is already three years since I left her. My life is already back to normal. No pain in the chest. No giggling sound in my head. No blank staring at the wall.
No blank staring at the wall?
In fact, I am now blank staring at the wall. The colour of the light is changing from pink, to a more pink and then purple. My eyes are still on the concrete wall and my mind is floating away. Somewhere like three thousand miles from here. An white beach island in the middle of vast and deep blue sea. Yes. Tomorrow is Monday. And heaven know how much I hate Monday. I would someday need a therapist for this.
The needle now runs into the end of the spiral and produces an ending scratching sound.
I Am Yesterday. You Are Present. We Are Tomorrow 