I’ve spent far too much time in my room for too long.

The reasons for this are varied and unimportant.

What is important is the world view this prolonged ‘underexposure’ has left me with.

The windows in my room are filthy, both outside and in. Filthy with the dust that is like an uncover agent in the air we breath here. Filthy with the carcinogens from the traffic (apparently the number of cars is now greater than the number of people in Bangkok) slowly passing on the expressway less than 100 metres from my windows.

Filthy from the suffocating lack of regular breeze, which at the wrong time of the year can be absent for days before any hint of wind moves the stagnant humid air around..

It’s filthy on the inside for all of the above reasons and more.

It’s also filthy due to melancholic laziness. And the filthiness is a reminder of that feeling, which, if left unchecked can serve to exacerbate the negativity. Which is shit.

Processed with VSCO with c8 preset
The Filthy View

This ever-present filter of filthiness has created a concept of a an equally filthy world outside the window. In both literal and metaphorical senses. There is an almost abandoned building quality about the whole world, like whomever the caretakers were, they have long since moved on to… something else. And he world is left to gather dust, the dust of melancholic laziness manifested as every conceivable excuse except the truthful one.

Some days I notice the dust more than others. Some days it’s not even there, and the greenery from the field across the street is bright and varied. The shades of grey on the temporary corrugated iron homes of the the building crew resonate boldly in the sunlight like a strong c minor chord. The builders live in the field whilst they build condominiums on what used to be it’s north western end, and at night they sometimes sing Thai folk songs.

Some days I can barely see the outside world for the dust and filth on the window. The flawier screen amplifies the effect, and the outside world becomes so much further than the arms reach it really is.

On those days, especially on those days, I make music.

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