January 2009
35 posts
In dreams by Roy Orbison
A candy-colored clown they call the sandman Tiptoes to my room every night Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper Go to sleep. everything is all right. I close my eyes, then I drift away Into the magic night. I softly say A silent prayerlike dreamers do. Then I fall asleep to dream my dreams of you. In dreams I walk with you. in dreams I talk to you. In dreams youre mine. all of the time were...
Mr. Orbison - Runnin Scared
went driving around the hills on all of those winding roads. How can we be so content just driving. like hour long expeditions. us as hunters, finding the beauty in off-limit territory. how do we get so excited just seeing pretty things. no music. just you and me. and the sun creeping through green trees and orange rock. i asked you to sneak into that house with me. the one that was not quite...
Lou Reed - Coney Island Baby from the record NYC...
PJ Harvey - Seagulls
seconds away from throwing down 45 dollars for a shuttle bus. this shuttle bus would take me from los angeles to san francisco in a matter of 6 hours and 11 seats. It would be drivin by a wonderful old chinese man who knows my name. I should have been on that shuttle bus 25 minutes ago. with a pack as my pillow and 35 dollars to spend on a couple shots of whiskey. 2 nights i would stay. at the...
“We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be,...”
gaza strip .read. listen. watch. →
If you do one thing today. tomorrow. whenever you read this, if you ever do, please take the time.
Democracy Now never fails to inform. depress. and deeply inspire… it will do the same to and for you.
Daisy Click Clack - Stereolab :: i have listened...
A temperamental refusal to deal with the merely...
click clack happiness ..
walking past los angeles homes at night along rocky and rigid pavement. reading didion. a beautiful black lace blouse with endless sleeves. perfect lighting, you know the golden kind that traces spaces in rooms. the perfect shade of lipstick (rouge beauty). gold glitterings and black solidity. the blue eyes i love inches from my face fluttering. the motion of bodies. and...
small hours - john martyn :: a knowing stare
blind man with walking stick
“i use people and let myself be used because I want to know what life is composed of if it is not passion let it be lies but let them be convincing. “
a postcard sent to a girl, the girl of a boy who used to sleep in the next room. from a city i no longer live in but one i dream of. one that has irritatingly been cemented into my brain as absolutely wonderful, even if it wasnt...