"The Journey Into Sound: A Link To The Past"

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a man (or a child in spirit) walks into the penny arcade and plays the legend of zelda (a link to the past) and gets so upset in 15 seconds he smashes the screen until he is taken to the local hospital in nagasaki in japan where they take care of his wounds proper.

after awakening he takes a plane to the valley of the kings in egypt. he is surprised to find the culture and livelihood shown in the valley of the kings. ceramic drums and african chants drift him into some kind of pleasant dream world.

he wakes up somewhere else. he isnt sure of where this place is, but hes sure hes in a different location because a man wakes him playing these wonderful notes on his woodwind (possibly a flute) instrument. the acoustic drums are the sounds of his heartbeat, as the fluttering woodwinds are his thoughts. the strings that kick in are his endorphins combined with his heart and thoughts, the man is in complete ecstasy right now. abruptly, for some reason only known to her...it ends.

he is whisked away by a vibraphone, possibly to paris in france. he is confused and wondering what exactly has happened. he still hears the wonderful woodwinds, but the vipraphonics he is feeling in his left ear and lower back tell him he must be somewhere else. and the dj skips out on him.

he wakes up well rested in his bed where he hears the morning green birds and traffic outside. it feels like a blue day, so he plays the blues in his head. a very eric clapton-esque song with a classical guitar line that plays so well it takes the blues right out of him. and now all he is left with is loud, classical guitar and a newspaper he has recently retrieved. and like the street spirit, he fades out. the truth hurts, the lies kill.

not to be derailed by anybody, he takes the elevator up to a popular venue in the city. he hears the most generic techno beats, but the crowd still loves it.

incredible.

music.

hes being taken on some kind of magic carpet ride through some kind of techno, drug induced dream. he hears the crowd applaud as some acoustic drum kits kick in to take away some of the techno overtones. the techno then fades out leaving him helpless and drumfounded. so drum(dumb)founded that he just runs away, into strongbadia where strongbad prints him a new life.

he arrives in some kind of dreamworld, again, and hears the most wonderful, classical string section. he has the widest, brightest smile on his face...it feels so surreal and numb. all the sounds together in this one beautiful piece of artwork is making him reminisce about the wonderful times he had with his best friend back in high school. they would always have the best times. even if it were to be slowed down...they would pick back up as the drums have. these two shared nothing...but...

love.

respect.

honor.

the speed of the violins and drums are taking him through some kind of tunnel in his brain, almost back in time...or into a different city or state of being. hes having the most wonderful time though.

the strings are fading out...

he plays a little bit of russian roulette (classical roulette) with the friends in the office as he is ripped out of time and taken to his old towne. this is where the princess loved him.

a phone rings....rings...rings. he picks it up. he is yelling at the top of his lungs and is frightened as he calmly walks out of his house (castle?) and shuts the door (dungeon door?). after hearing such a horrible message from the president (king?) he goes up to his car. calmly opens the door so as not to make a noise, and shuts it. he starts the engine, drives slowly (hastily) away and is speeding...1,000 mph like an m1-a1.

he was drunk...or just...dreaming.

this trip doesnt last long, he wrecks...or just wakes up.

the robots (angels?) tell him otherwise. (1,2,3,4...reset button.)

backwards cymbals and classical guitar beats in c notes are drifting him through some kind of slumber. acoustic drum beats with a 120 beat tempo kick in and bring him to some kind of ambient noise dreamland. the vibratones that echo throughout him remind him of the wonderful woodwinds and robotic facsimile voices. hes in a great place right now, even though we dont know whats going on. he hears the wonderful woodwinds of the past and classical strings of the past past. more ambient noise....leads to sleep.

he wakes up remembering a time when he played billiards (pool) with his close friends at his best friends sisters rented apartment. hes having such a fun time he thinks about tribal drums and little prickles of techno beats. they dance...even through the dying drum beats and tainted fun/love. such good times...the dj cuts in though, reminding him he has a record to stick to. the cars take him through a racetrack of emotion...he passes out.

he wakes up in a premiere luxury hotel in st. petersburg in russia and is reminded of how wonderful love with that one girl is when the classic bar pianos play him into some kind of peace of mind.

the wind blows. it gives him a cold...when he was a kid...he used to cough like this...ambient noise and backwards racing horses lead him into backwards cymbals and more ambiance little over tones click, and are ended with his heavy two beat heartbeat.

a dijderidoo comes up behind him to tell him a secret...loudly...but is silenced by his conscience.

he remembers the night in the old techno club in los angeles in the united states. he remembers a nice little beat he heard. the bass is heavy, his sweat is prevalent, he is in (or on?) ecstasy he doesnt care. he loves the feeling. its the feeling he used to get (naturally) when he was with her...her...'her'. his love. every loud beat of bass is a time they had fun...theres so many he cant count them all. he cant remember why they ever stopped...cut the beats...or left each other...but its too late to think about it...the drums run in reverse...past the times he could care. its almost over...

now he feels damned determined to stop traveling this way, through time, or space...he hears a wonderful bass (not a bass) beat. with great rhythm and sounds coming from tablas, drums, percussion like instruments...ceramic drums in 4/4. wonderful tribal beats. that terror tabla. its so whimsical and full of heart. (he hears old sounds of the factory he worked in while staying in syracuse in new york in the united states). everything is mixing together...slowly...softly...but he wants to hear that tribal beat. hes trying to make it overtake those sullen memories of his past. hes having an inner conflict...and i know you didnt expect it to mean as much as he does (do you, do we?). he loses the fight. hes knocked unconscious...by a falling something...

the repeated sounds of a dj in ruins are playing through his head. scratches...terrible sounds like nine inch nails are playing through his head for so long. he (maybe) comes to...so he lights up a cigarette...and the clicking of the lighter are echoing so horribly through his thoughts. he tries not to move.

random thoughts of his childhood are coming back (into) him...he can hear frogs from when he used to go camping, and crickets from when he would play basketball with his two brothers and dad at a park in a small town in indiana in the united states.

he remembers when the times were wonderful, and he tries to recall exactly what has been happening in his life. but instead of trying to mess with it...the last 31 minutes and 16 seconds have shown him (through feeling) that he would rather remain here.

but too bad he never had a choice to begin with...31 minutes and 16 seconds ago his wife of 3 years shot him in the head. lying in love, blood, hate, and memories...hes been playing this out through his mind and heart. he was lost...lost in time...lost in a djs mind.

so for now we say goodbye.

it was his time anyway...