Friday, January 20, 2012

Be my brother, there is another way out of here

It's late and I'm listening to the heavy Brian Wilson vibes spilling forth from The High Lamas epic Hawaii. Earlier, Spira and I watched Zodiac, one of my faves. It was fun watching it with her; she was engaged throughout. On my way to her place, I stopped at McDonald's and picked us up a couple of filet-o-fish and some fries. I haven't had McDonald's in years, but we had been talking about the glory of the filet-o-fish the other night and it was an inevitability we'd be face to face with a couple. It was sublime.

iTunes on shuffle. First the High Lamas, then Bonnie Prince Billy's haunting, countrified version of No More Workhorse Blues, now Fiona Apple singing Sullen Girl. So far, so good, I do declare.

I'm going to stay up late, probably until the wee hours of the morning. I will sleep late or I won't, but one thing is for certain: I will awake naturally, on my own volition. No offensive bleating from my alarm, which I know is only doing its job when it shocks me from the bliss of slumber, but still, what kind of asshole gets into that line of work anyway? Tomorrow, I plan on working on a lot of music. I have a new song that started out a pretty, shimmery waltz and has grown into something more complex and epic. It coos for attention.

After Fiona Apple, Caetano Veloso. Something from Ce. And now we have Rufus singing Natasha. I haven't listened to Want One in a while. Aw, fuck it - it's time for a marathon.

I dream of being able to create art full time. What bliss it would be! Maybe I can make it happen. I need a benefactor. I'm going to peruse Great Expectations for ideas. Wish me luck.

Now we've got Captain Beefheart's Grow Fins. The Spotlight Kid /Clear Spot are such good records. Big, fat grooves throughout. If you like music, you should listen to these albums every day for the next seven months. I said.

Fantomas follows the Captain with their cover of Experiment In Terror. A good time for me to make my exit.

Live long and prosper, you thieving, self-involved miscreants.

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