The speakers hum, they have nothing to play, no music, so they hum quietly. You almost can't hear them. I read Richard Brautigan, work a bit, let the speakers hum. I wish I was enjoying reading more, the stories are good. But I'm kinda tired of all this shit.
The day is fine, all the trees and bushes are bursting with new green leaves. The sunshine is amazing, air so soft you want to cry. Even a car or two on the road, passing, sound like the music of the spheres. We've arrived at a point in time where nothing can be ugly, every trivial thing has the potential to be beguiling. And so everything is, but I'm bored.
I think the speakers humming symbolize a deep subconscious psychological truth. But as to what it is, I don't wanna know. I should unplug the fucking speakers, but I don't.
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