Story time.
It's apparently roughly 7pm – according to my little cousin, who I have brought with me to a field. I reckon I had best try to turn him into a hippy whilst he's still malleable; before it's too late. The sun looks to be still relatively high in the sky; although it's getting to the point where it will soon disappear behind the single tall tree and the single brick building on the horizon. So waist high in reeds and grass with my cousin, I pull out my cheap mp3 player and turn on a particularly beautiful song: Sunshine Recorder. I try to introduce my cousin to Boards of Canada. He's pretty resistant. He probably doesn't realise that without electronica there would be no rave. He probably doesn't care. I doubt anybody in all of Lanarkshire knows or cares. My cousin's slight tap prompts me to take back my right earphone and put it back in. The music becomes full. It's loud, but it's not so loud that I cannot hear the things going on around me. I mean I can still, for example, hear the group of children down near the entrance laughing and having fun.
The melancholy music somehow fits… just perfectly with the scene. With the music, the scene becomes wonderfully beautiful and nostalgic – children playing in a field reminding me of my days as a perfectly normal child; synthesizer tones and found-sound voice samples reminding me of the TV I watched when I was 4; and the fact that the sun is now setting behind the aforementioned horizon of a single brick building and a tree.
I don't know what it is that triggers in me the idea of perfection, but it must be present in this scene. I find that my journey deeper into the field is slowed by the presence of a short fence, but it is not hard to jump, not hard at all. A touch reveals it isn't charged, so I don't even need to be cautious… lovely. The beautiful scene renders me perfectly relaxed. I would love to lead a life like this. I let my weight fall against a pole of wood which seems to be falling apart. It seems it can easily support a good forty, fifty kilos though – it'll survive for a while longer by that measurement.
The sun slowly edges out of sight. Dusk approaches. I suppose I would want the sun back, for the sunrise complimented the mood perfectly, but it was time to leave.
turquoise: you're right, I suppose.
My drive has always been to be the person who, though in the background, has control. The real smart people are those who can do this - if I went and wrote a completely false article for The Sun about the government being liars, it'd be tomorrow's most popular opinion.