Yes...it is true. I've got mono. Monophonic memories of sound. Here I am, an artist for 25 years and when I close my eyes and listen to my favorite songs...nothing but mono. Even the Kinks mono recordings mixed for stereo are mono.

When I dream...I remember color...sometimes...sometimes...hell I don't know...maybe black and white...I am into the story not the window dressing. Hell, I even forget the story most of the time.

All this sensory input. There is nothing more addicting, but we end up throwing most of it away. Melodies, sounds, and imagery distort as our memories do. Softdrive minds.

Wash away...wash away. Baptism of watercolors. Some sins float off the page, others forever indelibly stained no matter the redemption or the penance paid. We have no control of the water but we do of the strokes of color.

I love it. I love that my softdrive mind won't call bullshit on me when I remember of a time and place that hit me like a crush of love and perfection, but perhaps really was just nnnnoooottt quuuiiitte iiiiitttt.

Perfection exists in our memories, and in our feelings...until they change into a newer found perfection...and until a newer...

I mean really, who wants a Google search of our memories? Every second of detail that never fades, always calling it like it was, romanticism gone, artistic license and creative happenstance gone.

Yep. Give me mono. Give me black and white. Give me the not-even-close play by play of life for me to mold in my own not-for-the-faint-of-heart fairy tale.

You might say this is a lie. Hardrive truth is the way. I say fuck that noise. I say softdrive truth fucking rules...just like lighthouses rule.

Impermanence.

I say what I feel and my forever changing perception matters most, not the 00110011100's. I've got mono and I like it.