Morosoph’s Odyssey, Part Three

The following was written in situ, during the event or shortly after. In some cases (specifically, parts of the final chapter), there was enough time between the event and my recollection of it that I stray into rambling territory. (My apologies.) All changes are grammatical or completions where I used shorthand. All conversations and observations are made from memory and perception. These are the events of two days in winter, as I lived them.



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To an audience chomping for more, the sliding, deep grooves of “The Literal Black Cloud” draw the evening to a close, the end severely punctuated by Danny (Walker)’s final, resonating hit of the ride. Intronaut opt against an encore, leaving everyone’s—mine included—desire to see more to go unsatiated2. As always, the severing of instrument and listener has left me physically and emotionally drained, and all I can do is take the remaining silence, or what would pass for it, to compose a torrent of thoughts, all of which comprise a variation of elation over what I’d just witnessed and slow cascade of depression that it has to be over so soon. Were I in a slightly difference place and time, I would most assuredly be stretching myself yet thinner to do this tomorrow all over again.

Coming out of my daze reveals the band members to be dismantling and unplugging their instruments, in between the odd chat with a fan. Touring brings with it a long series of structural creation and destruction; frames being painstakingly built to preference and near-perfection (unless perfection is, indeed, achieved), only to have their bolts loosened and shapes disintegrated hours later, just to restart the process all over again the next day. Sweaty, tired hands remove the cymbals and drums, coil metre upon metre of cable. Thus begins the second half of mundanity that one can only hope has just been justified in a miniscule timeframe measured in minutes.