In the irony of all ironies, Modest Mouse, to me, best cradles the motif of freedom — a vast expanse of vista and possibility — color, light, variation, extension and harmony. It’s a feeling that stymies the need to “drive around” in order to reach edification, chord progressions, garage production and Jeremiah Green’s inimitably doglike … Read more“Modest Mouse and Driving”
They picked a little town called Asheville, North Carolina That is “urbane without being urban.” She bartends at a place they own, He has long, lustrous brown hair That waves with liplike synergy. Almost inspiring, she Patrols the bar, Policing malaise and Extinguishing it, repeating Stories that are hers to wear, In a profession … Read more“11:03 am”
My first experience with Everclear was seeing them on MTV for “I Will Buy You a New Life,” and my dad was into them too. It takes a pretty cool band to withstand these initial hindrances. Not that Sparkle and Fade, their earlier album, cripples such might. And yeah, they do have one before Sparkle … Read more“A Pledge for CD in Everclear’s ‘My Sexual Life’”
Reading The New Yorker and then The New York Times in concurrence, it’s easy to see why the newspaper industry in this country is financially wheelless. The New Yorker is about four times more liberal than The New York Times, which is generally regarded, rightly so, as the most liberal paper in the nation. I … Read more“A Liberal Nod to The New Yorker in Light of the Obscured Newspaper Industry”
After one of the worst winters ever, the air mixed effervescently with the water, the uncompromising curl of the chill’s horror now unfurled and smiling, hovering in the mesosphere, the festivities chiding alive with contact. I was down in North Carolina, but I saw the broadcast. He in whom we had faith. Somehow, it worked. … Read more“Of Him in Whom We Had Faith”
I take a flower petal And put it to my ear And somehow I can hear The running of the veins, Their quadriceps dancing And hovering In endorphin land, pretty Penny
All I desire is to have One true thought That is reflective Of the cosmological stars And of heaven Lest you quell such things
At my invention, She stands and gives, Arms hanging, hands hanging So as to spur off light from the known All reality, At its inception, Was stupor, so tell The bearded recluse to cool the tea As night Vibrates with Its thighs shining, And the tea cleanses.
The woman’s face on the screen, that’s poison You can’t see who you were before her, She’s wetting your anomaly from cerebellum to BVD You went to backbreak mountain for her, Only To find the television on and no one to watch it Befriend what you can, forget yourself Amidst the dust going raw deal
16159 itmes, 44.4 days, 122.04 GB Apparently somewhere up in the sky, somewhere, there are stars aligning, lil balls o’ energy, but down here in the land of the monkeys-with-a-brain, my iTunes still opens up at “A” every time I click on it. A.C. Newman, get bent, Annuals, get bent, Antlers, get bent, Animals, … Read more“The Animals: Saving the “A”‘s on my iTunes”