L. Rhodes, composer

I feel as though i'm gettong closer now, with each driving stroke of the chizel the essential flesh of my idea becomes clearer, with every dusting off of the obling shape, my symphony intensifies, i've recently been employing the use of mescaline as a means of heightening my extrasensory capacities, It allows me to percieve the spacial hum of music and knowledge that's penetrating the walls of my portfront loft, there's a particular current that sometimes seems to line up perfectly with the space I'm in, it lights up my room with its effervescent splendour and allows me to drink it in freely, i go into a frenzy and lose myself in the craft, pulling segments from the air, this current is when most of my greatest work is done, and the music i write during this period always reveals itself to be as heavenly as In my minds eye.

It usually only lasts but a short time, but when its over i feel relieved and need to step out and feel the wind fron the east river, its similar to being in a microwave, my cells dance a bittersweet little jiggle and I sometimes wonder if taking in too much can give me cancer.

When I finished this evening, all of the sheets I had filled revealed themselves to be another beautiful segment of the same symphony i've been writing for the past two months, i dont l know where it fits in, and its hue is a more pinky orange heat than the earlier segments, so i think it might be right around the musical crescendo.

I'm off to bed, mixing sculpture and mescaline with occult trance like states is something i wish i had discovered years ago

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This morning I awoke with the sweetest melodyfloating through my mind, It sounded like the sort of thing that you'd hear in a score from a childrensmovie in the 50's, I immediately sat down at my desk an wrote it out. There was something about the nature of the sound that produced the melody, it was like a birdsong sung by thousand year old dead mockingbirds, sweet and haunting, definately something I would have continued listening to had not the cruel old world called me forth,