{ 17 } .. . asterisk

he comes across like a dusted romeo to her spinning juliet

what secrets will you share, my anglepoise darling? what crevice will you illuminate? In the dusty cockles of my antiquated heart, she tells me a thing or two about this and that. This, is getting us nowhere. This has been a mad mistake. Your eyeballs feel like pinballs, while your tongue feels like a fish. That, will have no bearing; that, cannot support the weight; the gravity of what she’s saying: the trivialities we debate.

Listen to the crap you’re spouting; the copro-corpus that you diseminate. Lost in the muddle of your id, the middle of your ud, the shitstorm of your god, the hidden gorm of your ode. Up comes the fool and down goes the stool!

Check it and see.



spiral scratch
letter from an occupant .. . { the new pornographers, mass romantic }
tears of a clown .. . { smokey robinson and the miracles }
banging in the nails .. . { the tiger lilies, the brothel to the cemetary }

{ 16 } .. . babel

just get me to the airport or you’ll curse the day

The other night, on a quiet street in a cozy parlour, there was a gathering of musicos to celebrate one of their birthdays. In an informal circle surrounded by guitars, bass, snare and flute, songs and chords and harmony were freely exchanged, telling tales of sorrow and heartache, but mostly of joy, mixing decades and genres, weaving them all into one great story that embraced everyone.

It was a conversation that casually created community, not just among the people present, but with the artists and creators whose songs filled the evening. The almost random concatenations defied logic but somehow made sense, or begged for recognition of their, oh, kinship to each other: just what is the connection between ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ and ‘Lost Highway’? What does Joey Ramone have to say to Hank Williams?

Elation and regret, jugs of wine and narcotic shows, the need to keep moving, to run away and run toward, until the past was a figment, a shadow without substance, a mere bo(o)geyman behind the harmless veil of the night. And just in case there is more bite to the dark, well, the warmth of this magic circle would keep that monster at bay.



spiral scratch
you don’t miss your water .. . { the byrds, sweetheart of the rodeo }
sneeze .. . { andrea parker, kiss my arp }
friday i’m in love .. . { the cure, wish }