there is a curious narcissism in this addiction to the headphone self, curious as strange, but also as a reflection of the self curious to this age. inside my headphones i'm not here, this isn't happening, inside my headphones, i'm in grand rapids, i'm in columbus, evanston, boise, i'm in brompton, marylebone, sutton, i'm anywhere but here. i'm reconciled to no place but my own selfish nowhere, a placeless, immaterial place where no real church holds me, hurts me, obliges me, nothing touches me in the church of me. it just me and jesus now, there is no neighbour to love, no age, no strain. traffic passes me noiselessly, silenced is the charming natter, the idle banter, the storied love, the fleeting whispered care of knowing and being known, lost to the preached wisdom of pastors who never knew me. i'm in a thousand studios with a thousand bands, a thousand miles from nottingham, i'm never here and they don't really exist beyond a simulacra, that dream inside the dream, this is not the freedom for which i was set free. if this was someone else's blog i'd tell them to burn their ipod.
cartoon - http://gapingvoid.com/