Too many music videos.

So here's another one:



This will be more rounded soon, I'm sure.

Hold on, Magnolia

Profits from an afternoon:

He thought of belief and the gradual loss of belief and the piercing together of something like it again.

But, oh, how his blood had almost turned in color when once, in response to a sudden call from a window, he stopped on a curbstone and first thought,

Love, Love, Love.

-Tennessee Williams

This enthusiasm which must be held in check was a great burden for a child's soul ... to restrain meant to kill, to bury.

-Anais Nin

The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

-Eden Phillpotts

Sunday Morning Cartoons

The untouched version of the same:

Music Museum

http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2005/07/culture_shock_m.html

His reviews:
Here's another number - a doo-wop/calypso - about libidinal cravings for an attractive female, done by Havana heartthrobs whose Motown-style choreography and impeccable voices kept the palms of Cuban girls moist for much of the sixties.
&
"Tuareg" is an inauthentic name for the various tribes of the Saharan region given by North African Muslim marauders. It's an insulting Arabic term meaning "the Godforsaken." It's also the name of this Jorge Ben tune, recorded in 1969 by the Queen of the Tropicalia scene, that mashes up Brazilian psychedelia with the trippy desert music familiar to the people the song is named for.
&
Called "Jewish-Marxist noise" by the Nazis in 1932, this German singing supergroup broke up two years later after it was prohibited from performing due to the non-Aryan heritage of half its members. This piece of fluff was recorded a month before the split.

Etienne Charry

From the makers of 36 Erreurs, a cd that more than readied me for music that lacked a center. This song tells a little story, so it is not like that.

Shugo Tokumaru

Dim Sum

I go with the police men to a room, like a tea room, run with red lacquered carts and men bowing to me. The waiters smoke in the doorway downstairs, here they will not pass you, and will stop moving as you pass them. A three hundred pound Samoan orders for us, nodding or waving things away, and little wet & woven boxes pile up around us. Everything is wrapped, hidden in folded damp pastry. A fellow leans back and scratches himself, guns peeking out. The sugar trolley is also red, shiny, also with bells, but it has a clear glass belly lit up with pink lights.

I need to buy a notebook.

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.

&

It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult is more reason for us to do it.

The dogs come lie down next to me.

The Chronicle of Crows

http://www.archive.org/details/cawcaworchronicl00rmrmiala

"Caw caw!" the downy young ones say,
"How lovely is this peep of day,
Oh what a glorious sight is this,
There can be nothing here but bliss."
"Caw! Caw!" replies the mother crow,
"There is no joy unmixed with woe."

Everything in that first story is perfect.

Mallarme

The flesh is sad, alas! and all the books are read.
Flight, only flight! I feel that birds are wild to tread
The floor of unknown foam, and to attain the skies!
Nought, neither ancient gardens mirrored in the eyes,
Shall hold this heart that bathes in waters its delight,
O nights! nor yet my waking lamp, whose lonely light
Shadows the vacant paper, whiteness profits best,
Nor the young wife who rocks her baby on her breast.
I will depart! O steamer, swaying rope and spar,
Lift anchor for exotic lands that lie afar!

A weariness, outworn by cruel hopes, still clings
To the last farewell handkerchief’s last beckonings!
And are not these, the masts inviting storms, not these
That an awakening wind bends over wrecking seas,
Lost, not a sail, a sail, a flowering isle, ere long?
But, O my heart, hear thou, hear thou, the sailors’ song!

Texas

Snapshots by Trevor

Meditations on a permanent adolescence.

Dearly beloved,

The word "moister".

That is all.

A pile of shit has a thousand eyes.

Persephone

Betta persephone photograph like paintings.