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                           .         a n a d a  1 1 6        0 8 - 0 4 - 0 0
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  . .   . . .    . .    . .    . .
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .                "Ingredients"
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .
  . . .  .   .   . . .  . . .  . . .                  by Effy


  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

	All that's visible is this simple, white screen.  Audible background
 of deep, moody bliss.  A canvas representing the creation of infinite
 dreams, visions, words... there's so many words, and endless combinations of
 them.  Overwhelming, it's inhibiting.  What was created, hand-picked out of
 the universe... what was the most complex itself created inhibitions for its
 creators.  Still here, still there.  Still looking at something I can touch,
 but what is tangible is not a product of my own mind... it's only glass.

	Night smiling through the crack of the window.  This is the time it
 allows me.  I turn feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, words into
 phrases, and phrases into things I tell the world around me.  In return to
 what the night provides, I have much to give.  Every tree, the dumpster, the
 lawn, the broken glass on the pavement, encompassed by cool air laid back
 against the colorless sky... it all contributes to each flicker of
 inspiration, and is a common entrepeneur of motivation.  Can't motivate
 myself.  Not anymore.  It's like a drug, the night... a helpless addiction.

	But day is just a disease.

	The drug is the cure.

	Seize the day, says the night.

	Their battle continues.

	Night cures the day, I cure the night.  The "deep, moody bliss" of
 music is a medicine man standing in the corner of my room.  He works his
 magick when I tell him to, and when I am temporarily cured, he stops
 knowingly.  It only reaches a certain tolerance of almost-constance, but
 withdrawl is not incessant.  It creates a deep shade of depression that the
 night could never cure like the day.

  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                                                                             
  .           anada 116                       by Effy  (c)2000 anada e'zine .
      
  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
