nice cd cover # 24

Metronomy - The English Riviera

nice cd cover # 23

L-Vis 1990 - Neon Dreams

a steppenwolf in new york city moonlight

"I had had a bad year this last year, and for a while it got very bad; I may as well admit that for the first time in my life I had come to understand there was suicide in me. (Murder I had known was there for a long time.) It was the worst of discoveries, this suicide. Murder, after all, has exhilaration within it. I do not mean it is a state to entertain; the tension which develops in your body makes you sicken over a period, and I had my fill of walking about with a chest full of hatred and a brain jammed to burst, but there is something manly about containing your rage, it is so difficult, it is like carrying a two-hundred-pound safe up a cast-iron hill. The exhilaration comes I suppose from possessing such strength. Besides, murder offers the promise of vast relief. It is never unsexual.

But there is little which is sexual about suicide. It is a lonely landscape with the pale light of a dream and something is calling to you, a voice on the wind. Certain nights I would go leaden with dread because I could hear the chamber music tuning up, tuning up and near to pitch. (Yes, murder sounds like a symphony in your head, and suicide is a pure quartet.) I was approaching my forty-fourth year, but for the first time I knew why some of my friends, and so many of the women I had thought I understood, could not bear to be alone at night."


- Norman Mailer, An American Dream

line of lyrics # 7

I'm all on my own
I've kinda lost
my throne
I'm absent from the scene
I'm searchin' for
a way in life, I'm lookin' for
a theme

A plan or a scheme, a road to a better place

I'm splashin' water
on my face,
Wake up lazy bones, please just
take me home
I'm out of my comfort zone
the liquids wearin' off
Now I just

feel alone
Now I just
feel alone

I know we fuss and fight yeah
a little bit
I've had a couple drinks well
a little bit
I'm beggin' you
Just carry me
home

I know we fuss
and fight here
a little bit

I've had a couple drinks
well a little bit

I'm beggin' you
Just carry me

home

I'm all on
my own



(Ghostpoet - Cash and Carry Me Home)

nice cd cover # 22

Max Richter - Memoryhouse

beautiful sense of displacement

biking at night, fully in that one place, with its darkened stillwarm evening quiet, the old streets. listening to "Coney Island Low" at the same time, the gulls, the soft crash of surf, and being there just as much. and in this dual existence, at two times and on two places, happiness, as if twofold me in one silence.

nice cd cover # 21

Clearlake - Amber

nice words # 17

coniferous

late night long time hazy lingerings, and memories

"We both developed a passion for cigarettes. Tobacco is difficult to find here, and terribly expensive when you do, but Sam had made a number of black market connections while compiling the research for his book, and he was often able to find packs of twenty for as low as one or one-and-a-half glots. I am talking about real, old-fashioned cigarettes, the kind that are produced in factories and come in colorful paper wrappers with cellophane on the outside. The ones Sam bought had been stolen from the various foreign charity ships that had docked here in the past, and the brand names were usually printed in languages we could not even read. We would smoke them after it got dark, lying in bed and looking out through the big, fan-shaped window, watching the sky and its agitations, the clouds drifting across the moon, the tiny stars, the blizzards that came pouring down from above. We would blow the smoke out of our mouths and watch it float across the room, casting shadows on the far wall that dispersed the moment they formed. There was a beautiful transience in all this, a sense of fate dragging us along with it into unknown corners of oblivion. We often talked about home then, summoning up as many memories as we could, bringing back the smallest, most specific images in a kind of languorous incantation--the maple trees along Miro Avenue in October, the Roman numeral clocks in the public school classrooms, the green dragon light fixture in the Chinese restaurant across from the university. We were able to share the flavor of these things, to relive the myriad incidentals of a world we had both known since childhood, and it helped to keep our spirits up, I think, helped to make us believe that some day we would be able to return to all that."


- Paul Auster, In the Country of Last Things

nice words # 16

widdershins