"next door the TV's flashing,
blue frames on the wall,
it's a comedy of errors, you see,
it's about taking a fall.
to vanish into oblivion is easy to do,
and i try to be,
but you know me,
i come back when you want me to."
i woke this morning with this song heavy in my consciousness, cloying, penetrating, like the oppressive warmth of the humid room, and the dry-from-thirst feeling in the back of my throat. i dream of songs sometimes, or at least they play their part, stroking my hair and nudging the surreal plot along. the dream, well its contents are hazy and i can only see the sketched outline of movement and feelings, as if i walked into a room right as the television is switched off, and all i see is the fading images, disappearing. is that what missing looks like then? the visuals switching off as our eyes narrow, trying to capture what we still want to see?