Maya took this rather stunning pic of herself accidentally (maybe) in a Beatles poster in the window we were hoping we could sweet-talk out of the owner of the almost-closed-forever Compact Disc Store down the street but someone already had their name written on the back. I was just thinking how this Henry Flynt album Purified by the Fire sounds like the kernel of "Tomorrow Never Knows" extended out forever, curling up at the edges like the fourth dimension does when we're not looking. Like paper does in a fire. It's ironic (and sad) in the context of a closing record store and the nature of time itself, because tomorrow knows; it really is the only one that knows for sure. And that I'm editing the portion of my book about another record store that might shutter its doors before the passage can even get written, and this very dalliance might only help it along into darkness so I should just hit "post" and get back to work.
Peter Walker, Nylon & Steel
Henry Flynt, Purified By the Fire and "Violin Strobe"
Terry Riley, Atlantis Nath
Tony Conrad, Fantatstic Glissando
Pelt, untitled
Henry Flynt, "Violin Strobe"
The light and the light that helps you see the light and the faraway lights you look at that help you think about what the first list shows you. The bananas lie somewhere in between, and the berries are spread all around you. It also helps the late-nite writing process to dress a little like a lunatic: pajama pants, fleece lined slippers, concert shirt, zip up sweater, hair disheveled. The chapter before you is a taut 3433 words. If I still smoked, it would be time for one.
No comments:
Post a Comment