Oil Of Oregano Die Off

The Science of Sleep: Aphex Twin

(Aphex Twin - Matchsticks)

This is not happening. What you're seeing may not be true. This is not a pipe nor is this a heart is a balloon that flies in the night , an ice cream cone that melts in the sun. Parades of rhinos rose parade in the midst of buildings made of cream. So
giant pterodactyls that I link from above and aircraft falling and exploding missiles in flight , derailing trains and trucks that come from the touch an inch.

collapsing houses, blind people who travel without a balcony railing, metro stations became bomb shelters, urban decay.

and ears there are those who paint my angst with lashes harmonic oblique lines purple and yellow, cardinal red, while a mass of a white I hallucinated searches, pursuits, and then creep slowly into the night .

Weird creatures. Elves stutterers who play ball with the eyeballs of a toad. Hippocampi lysergic committed struggles to make table tennis with minotaurs. Balls crazy and colorful dancing before my eyes. Mangiacane Russian guards, and elevator idiots, beggars emotional rolled naked in clouds of pink mucus. Rain and showers in April, cruel Eater, and barbeebaffi lattemmièle, nuotan all while I play (and dream) .

(Aphex Twin - Curtain)

The room of the dead baby kept, despite his years, his uncanny charm . The parents had decided to leave everything as it was: the cradle of the first month, the wrought-iron beds with initials, toys scattered on the carpet, however animated properties such as waiting for an impossible return of the master, the straps on the back of the chair and the leather shoes that his father, few days before the accident, had ordered the cobbler's family. Everything was framed From the large window overlooking the courtyard and began to fire, until shortly before the big tree, then shot down in a desperate attempt to remove the culprit (in spite) of excruciating pain and inexplicable as the death of a son.

Perdita dell'infanzia, pallore grigioblù, stare sott'acqua nella vasca da bagno interi minuti come gesto di sfida, e scoprire un altro mondo . Bolle di sapone in solitudine e ritorni e speranze, gravidanze inattese, bimbi persi. Pace e sensazione di beatitudine, di librarsi in volo, abbandono all'aria . Orologi che vanno all'indietro e poi improvvisamente corrono, e vengono ingoiati da pesci palla che danzano a tempo un minuetto porgendoci le loro braccia focomeliche. Anelli di fumo e cognac a fiumi e occhi aperti che bruciano per il cloro, occhi chiusi per let go. Adrift, adrift, in jeopardy.

(Aphex Twin - Nanou 2)

And you gave me your hand. And we sail. And nothing to fear, nothing to worry about, just light and color and tacit consent, and shine through the fog like dew on the leaves, like strings of beads the cloth, and give you just enough to survive while some advances on me, devouring . You do not say words. Sink into the abyss of perennial as I predicted.

Once I had a lucid dream.

Shot from above, rainy day, b / w type Wenders film.

A voice that echoes in my head says, "if we meet, I greet you and acknowledge you will understand that it was all just a dream and that the best moment of your life it was just a dream. " The meeting in a dull way and I do not respond. A carousel and a song with chimes almost 30s like Brecht / Weil, reminds me of "Happy Birthday to you."

I get up, like you know that I have to wake up, as if he really wanted to remember that dream and exclaimed loudly "crazy, I made the most beautiful dream of my life."

Because in the dream I knew that there was a story of love, moments of happiness and pure joy, but looking back, remembering, and reviewing the dream, I felt that those moments - implied in the dream, put forward at a later time - they were just a void of death, abyss of absence.

And then I realize that the dream is terribly sad, almost an omen, like a prophecy. I'm afraid to die. I cry. And I say "no, it was the saddest dream I've ever done."

The structure of the dream is equal to my reaction on the clock. I realize that what is "happy, beautiful" is just a dream .... And burst into tears when I realize, I'm sick, I seem to die.

(Aphex Twin - Kesson Daslef)

ps I realize that I have wronged the great songs drum'n'bass, acid and techno of Aphex Twin. Council then listening to Selected Ambient Works 85-92 which contains, inter alia, the piece that inspired me to write this post, We are the music makers .