gloamingdaydream

A collection of thoughts I wrote down over the span of two weeks in 2025, at first I wanted it to materialize into a greater journal but I quickly lost interest and shut it down.

September 23

I finally got to 100% on Silksong the other day, seeing everything the game has to offer. I have now started to go for the steel soul and speedrun achievements. Honestly, I am not that big of a completionist in general, very rarely do i ever go for these useless accolades, yet I did so for the original Hollow Knight and I am now doing it for Silksong as well. Maybe it’s because part of me isn’t yet ready to leave that world,and I don’t blame myself. The setting is absolutely massive and replicates that unique atmosphere from the first, that haunting feeling, that dread that oppresses you from the moment you step foot within Hallownest and Pharloom. The intangible struggles of reality manifest as physical obstacles, yet not once do they come in the way of the game’s beauty, even that of a fading, rotted world.

The npcs in Silksong are far superior in their roles, they showcase a presence that was not there previously, the presence of a united community, even within the darkest of circumstances. Silksong as a whole might probably be even darker than Hollow Knight, but even so, it manages to shine just as birghtly, if not more, and most of that is thanks to its protagomist, Hornet. I won’t shit on the Knight, its nearly hollow stated serves perfectly for a setting such as Hallownest, but Hornet is just as perfect for Pharloom, serving as the beacon of hope, the backbone that sets into motion the sense of togetherness that permeates the game from start to finish. An absolute masterpiece, and I can’t wait for the eventual dlcs, but for now I’ll go for steel soul and lose my mind in the process.

September 25

Finally finished Bubblegum by Adam Levin last night. I would say I have no words but that’s clearly not true judging by the fact that I’m writing this log down. Anyway, yeah this book is an absolute masterclass in autofictive storytelling. I likened it recently to Infinite Jest and that still holds up, there’s an uncanny resmblance in terms of its own technological inventions being a satire of the modern era, although not quite as predictive since this one was published in 2020 rather than at the start of the millenium where the Internet was in its infancy. But more importantly, the crux of the novel, to me, lies in its fictional author.

Belt is incredibly fascinating to me as most of the quality in his reflections is found in what isn’t said. It’s harder to parse his true thoughts because he isn’t as transparent as someone like a Proust but rather tries to cover every possible meaning within every one of his interactions with others, trying to dissect tone, use of language, and context to decipher what may not be there, and as a result ends with constant characterization of his encounters through a barrage of random rants and monologues regarding things that have nothing to do of anything that are probably of Belt’s invention (he admits this himself at some point).

He doesn’t experiment with the form of his language, but his language itself is uniquely distinct, his various fixations and his view of the world are all brimming with personality and all haunt the narrative in a way. Its impossible to really make out Belt’s thought process because even Belt himself is unable to The novel has this sort of Solenoidian quality to it in that the art itself is Belt’s attempt to search for that inexplicable answer that has elused him his whole life. On multiple occasions, he believes he’s found it, only for it to slip away from his grasp within mere moments.

Whats more fascinating is that Belt has the same expectations reader would probably have going into it, his imagination overtakes his perception and leads to disappointment once the reality doesn’t match. In a way, the novel’s ending may be Belt’s solution to this problem, and it works spectacularly, at least for me. There is so much about this novel, the intersection between his childhood and current self, his various relationships with his father, his curio, his friends from years long past, and all of them have at least one factor that kept me constantly immersed. Bubblegum is to me, without a shadow of a doubt, a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

October 4

Sometimes I wake up and think to myself that maybe Cyberpunk 2077 is the greatest piece of art that has ever been conceived. Today is one of those days. My thoughts constantly drift back towards it, there is so much to say, but I wanted to focus on one thing now.

There is this inexplicable mood that shapes the setting of Night City. Cyberpunk is not the first dystopian setting, not the first open world video game, but is one of the rare few that confronts the void. Cyberpunk fears the silence. Those small moments of quiet introspection that invade you, the act of thinking, a recognition of the situation one finds itself in. Night City stifles these moments by nipping off the bud of their source, it is a sleepless city, a body trapped to wander a neverending night. Everyone and everything V encounters fears the moment everything goes silent, they indulge and consume and self consume until nothing is left of them, and those that remain follow and follow and follow into an endless loop. A self-fulfilling machine, energized by the darkest, primordial thoughts of each individual brought into life in such a state.

V has been tricked into finding life within death. Her life lies in the adrenaline rush of threading the line, of knowing “this could be it” at any given moment, of coming closer and closer to the edge of reality. And the microchip in her brain does nothing but encourage her. It brings the finish line in sight, and tempts her to dive deeper and deeper into the self-indulgence that forces her mind to drift, to numb her own numbness with a facade that has repeated time and time again, so much so that it has long since morphed into obsession. And who is to blame her? What else can she find in a world in which humanity has been stripped of its core elements? The flesh has been rendered hollow, a rift has been severed between the soul and the body, the darkest oppressiveness of reality has seeped and evolved into its natural culmination.

“The Tower”, Phantom Liberty’s ending, breaks V’s delusion completely and utterly. It is disgusting, deplorable and depressing, a sharp contrast to the blaze of glory V finds in “Don’t Fear The Reaper”. But, despite that power fantasy being utterly stripped from her, despite her newfound helplessness, despite the loss of everything she holds dear, she also loses something that she never realized was there: She loses the noise. Nothing remains but silence. V fades into the crowd, and loses her status, loses what she’d fought to protect the entire game, and yet finds something infinitely more important: not meaning, not yet. But a way to find it. A way to create and carve her own life, free from the clutches of this horrible city that have held her down her entire life. She might find it, or she might not. In contrast, “Don’t fear the reaper” presents closure. V doubles down on her obsession, and decides to live for the very moment that has been built up throughout the game. And so, the choice between those two endings, regardless of the variance in events that lead up to them, is this: Let go, or hold on until the end?

It doesn’t matter what the correct choice is, whether there is one at all. V lets go, but in doing so commits heinous acts. Whether she remains true to herself or not is irrelevant. The city is cursed to brutalize its residents, V cannot change that no matter how powerful she becomes. And so, her choice must affect one person only, V herself. Charging headfirst into Arasaka will make her a living legend, maybe she’ll be remembered in the same vein as the Morgan Blackhand’s of the world. But after that, what next? What remains? Drown herself in her desire? And what is wrong with that, really? Who knows. And that’s it, really. Cyberpunk can’t answer the question for you, you must. Could you bear to sell your soul for freedom? Are you willing to sacrifice everything to live another day? It doesn’t matter. The game does not judge you. It simply presents an infinite amount of realities, possibilities that shift ever so slightly in context of your choices throughout the entirety of the game leading up to the moments you make your final choice. And to me, that is the beauty of Cyberpunk 2077. It is an absolutely unbelievable statement regarding existentialism, mortality, and reality itself. Perhaps the greatest work of art ever.

October 5

Haven’t done much progress on the literature stuff I’ve been on, but I’ve gotten back into music a little, the best thing I did recently is Robert Ashley’s Perfect Lives. I’d already watched it last year, but this time I decided to first listen to Private Parts, and then only listen to perfect lives instead of watching it, so that I could have a better grasp on the lyrics (I also had the Libretto open in case I would miss anything). Suffice to say, I was very overwhelmed and ended up having to listen to it over the course of two days, but by the end I knew that I had been experiencing possibly the greatest musical piece that had ever been conceived. I don’t really have a firm understanding of Perfect lives yet, but the quality is easy to see. Explaining it though, is much harder. Its not quite as inexpressible or complex as like Finnegans Wake, but its so large that I have trouble even pointing out simple things. I plan to relisten multiple times in the near future and read up on some stuff, and then check out Ashley’s other operas, because he is no doubt an absolute artistic genius in my eyes.

I’m halfway through the wind up bird chronicle, this is without a shadow of the doubt Murakami’s magnum opus. I read 1Q84 in january because I was fooled by its length into believing that would be his best work, and I still really liked it, but wind up is truly on another level. I plan to finish it either this week or early next week, but yeah my estimation of Murakami as an artist has just fucking skyrocketed.

Probs gonna start my Twin Peaks rewatch soon as well, really excited for that.

October 6

Over the past week and a half, I’ve been doing a ton of short form stuff, mostly consisting of film and music. Some of which include:

The wind is driving him towards the open sea – David Brooks (1968)

Probably the most obvious masterpiece ever, no need to even describe it, really. Fifty two minutes of pure artistic genius. I called it a masterpiece on my stories already last week but I definitely understated just how good it really is, up there with some of the best films I’ve ever seen.

Letter to DH in Paris – David Brooks (1967)

Another masterclass by Brooks. This is actually the one I was originally looking for when I came across wind, but yeah this is also insanely good for only being 4 minutes long. The purest form of beauty captured within these moments.

The End of the Tour – James Ponsoldt (2015)

I’ve got three words for you: David Foster Wallace.

Perfect Days – Wim Wenders (2023)

Incredible movie. Frames the mundane beautifully, could watch this over and over again and it would hit all the same. Highly recommend.

Requiem For a Dream – Darren Aronofsky (2000)

The infinite jest of movies. Brutal, disorienting, haunting. One of the greatest masterpieces of film, and proof of the genre’s greatness. I watched another of his films later on, Black Swan, and it unfortunately pales in comparison to this. Requiem truly feels like he pulled lightning out of a bottle, some of the most impressive cinematic compositions ever made.