fishbone hood of clouds

no sequence of melody makes sense thanks to the effort

involved on getting through days like today

everybody has their limit

weariness and contempt

dull yer mind

towards not wanting to think of anything

beyond falling with the deluge

this is not worth growing up for.

playlistless

caetano veloso - um canto de afox para o bloco do llê

the kinks - shangri-la

walker brothers - nite flights

woods - night creature

the incredible string band - hedgehog song

broadcast & the focus group - the be colony/dashing home/what on earth took you?

I offered up my innocence / got repaid with scorn

fade in

K: "Who are you?"

D: "I am death."

K: "Are you here to get me?"

D: "I have already long walked at your side."

K: "I know that."

D: "Are you ready?"

K: "My body is scared, but not me."

K: "Wait a minute!"

D: "You all say that, but I leave no postponements."

K: "You play chess, don't you?"

D: "How do you know?"

K: "Ah, I've seen it on paintings and heard it in the ditties."

something for a monday evening

outlook

consistency

A Ponder upon the state of Sir Geffory.

Looking at gas giants
Panting.
He once glanced directly into
The sun, just for a moment
So the sunspots that besotted him
Could be imprinted in the black
When he closed his eyes
Allowing him to entwine the claws
Of his imagination around them.

Voyeur Astronomer.
howling in glee as
Meaty whores streak across the sky
The lens fogs up at thoughts of being
Whipped by a comets glowing tail.

He’s chewing on beef sandwiches
Delivered by the night maid
Who ran away before he could
Grab and ravish her
All washed down with beer
A smoke and a tumult
of coughing and cursing.

Some people find integrity in poverty
Or justification for sleeping
through grand nights like this
crowned with ceaseless eternity,
instead preferring to work through
Grey or blue distractions

But with the warm pockets of wealth
And insanity to plunge cold hands into
Sir Geoffrey stands with an eye
glued to the glass, his retina sucking in the
weary photons from long dead stars
which have travelled through the depths
at unrelenting speed to strike a chemical spark
into electricity interpreted by a brain
that yearns to dissipate itself
into the pure exquisite pointlessness
that true freedom brings.

"Do You Have Any Advice For Those of Us Just Starting Out?"

Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

It’s all right to carry a notebook but a cheap
one is best, with pages the color of weak tea
and on the front a kitten or a space ship.

Avoid any enclosed space where more than
three people are wearing turtlenecks. Beware
any snow-covered chalet with deer tracks
across the muffled tennis courts.

Not surprisingly, libraries are a good place to write.
And the perfect place in a library is near an aisle
where a child a year or two old is playing as his
mother browses the ranks of the dead.

Often he will pull books from the bottom shelf.
The title, the author’s name, the brooding photo
on the flap mean nothing. Red book on black, gray
book on brown, he builds a tower. And the higher
it gets, the wider he grins.

You who asked for advice, listen: When the tower
falls, be like that child. Laugh so loud everybody
in the world frowns and says, “Shhhh.”

Then start again.

—Ron Koertge

this is quite good

MUSICVISION PHOENIX from Guillaume Delaperriere on Vimeo.

edge of august

"So, the trouble is that we have one-sided minds. We notice the wave of life only when it is at its peak or crest." - alan watts

this chiaroscuro existence

Colin Pillock: It's my great pleasure to welcome back Reginald Perrin, the former head of the amazing Grot shops chain. I understand you're now running a community called "Perrins", Mr. Perrin?

Reginald Perrin: Yes.

Colin Pillock: It's been described as a community for the middle-aged and the middle-class in what used to be Middlesex.

Reginald Perrin: Yes.

Colin Pillock: Tell me, Mr. Perrin, are you running this community for the benefit of humanity, or simply to make money, or is it a giant confidence trick?

Reginald Perrin: Yes.

Colin Pillock: I hope you're not going to tie yourself to this monosyllabic repetition of "yes".

Reginald Perrin: No.

Colin Pillock: Oh good, because our viewers might think it a waste of time for you to come here and say nothing BUT "yes".

Reginald Perrin: Yes.

Colin Pillock: So, which of them is it, Mr. Perrin? A social venture for the benefit of mankind? Purely a commercial venture? Or a con trick?

Reginald Perrin: Yes. It's all three of them. That's the beauty of it.

Colin Pillock: What kind of people come to this community?

Reginald Perrin: Well, at the moment we've got a stockbroker, an overworked doctor, an underworked antiques shop owner, a disillusioned imports manager, and an even more disillusioned exports manager. Three sacked football managers, a fortune teller who's going to have a nervous breakdown next April, a schoolteacher who's desperate because he can't get a job, a schoolteacher who's even more desperate because he has got a job, an extremely shy vet, an overstressed car salesman and a pre-stressed concrete salesman. People with sexual problems, people with social problems, people with work problems, people with identity problems. People with sexual, social, work and identity problems. People who live above their garages, and above their incomes, in little boxes on prestige estates where families are two-tone, two-car and two-faced. Money has replaced sex as a driving force, death has replaced sex as a taboo, and sex has replaced bridge as a social event for mixed foursomes, and large deep freezes are empty except for twelve sausages. They come to Perrins in the hope that they won't be ridiculed as petty snobs, but as human beings who are bewildered at the complexity of social development, castrated by the conformity of a century of mass production, and dwarfed by the immensity of technological progress which has advanced more in fifty years than in the rest of human existence put together, so that when they take their first tentative steps into an adult society shaped by humans but not for humans, their personalities shrivel up like private parts in an April sea.

Colin Pillock: I, er, I see...

Reginald Perrin: Not too monosyllabic for you, I hope?

view from the office window

tears in the water make circles for me as I play

end of an era

a moth shivers across the screen
its antannee tapping over the pixels
torn webs weighed down with dew

you've always too much to loose
when all you are trying to keep
is your balance

elegant arachnid

tape's pulled through / muffled voices sing

as the evening fades fast

ambitions done circling

like a dog in long grass

....previously on molton.blogspot.com.

.. the calamity of song. dreary to remember. social and emotional. Sick with a full stomach and a film that makes ya feel clever. burned out. The robots are deciduous and they're tumbling over one and other as the days grow shorter.

lookin' for the veedon fleece

stoic like ringo

WHO WHAT

Cluster- Zuckerzeit
Sun Ra- Lanquidity

John Fahey- Sea Changes & Coelacanths

The Millennium- Begin

Leafcutter John- The forest & the Sea

Nick Drake- Five leaves left

Augustus Pablo - misc stuff

Bob Dylan- Time out of mind

Anthology of american folk music - vol 2 social music

stateofthenationaddress

song, story and rhyme

locking me deeper

into my mind

Omnis festinatio ex parte diaboli es

"Our souls, as well as our bodies, are composed of individual elements which were all already present in the ranks of our ancestors. The 'newness' in the individual psyche is an endlessly varied recombination of age-old components. Body and soul therefore have an intensely historical character, and find no proper place in what is new, in things that have just come into being. That is to say, our ancestral components are only partly at home in such things. We are very far from having finished completely with the Middle Ages, classical antiquity, and primitivity, as our modern psyches pretend. Nevertheless, we have plunged down a cataract of progress which sweeps us on into the future with ever wilder violence the farther it takes us from our roots.

Once the past has been breached, it is usually annihilated, and there is no stopping the forward motion. But it is precisely the loss of connection with the past, our uprootedness, which has given rise to the 'discontents' of civilization and to such a flurry and haste that we live more in the future and its chimerical promises of a golden age than in the present, with which our whole evolutionary background has not yet caught up. We rush impetuously into novelty, driven by a mounting sense of insufficiency, dissatisfaction, and restlessness. We no longer live on what we have, but on promises, no longer in the light of the present day, but in the darkness of the future, which, we expect, will at last bring the proper sunrise. We refuse to recognize that everything better is purchased at the price of something worse; that, for example, the hope of greater freedom is canceled out by increased enslavement to the state, not to speak of the terrible perils to which the most brilliant discoveries of science expose us. The less we understand of what our fathers and forefathers sought, the less we understand ourselves, and thus we help with all our might rob the individual of his roots and his guiding instincts, so that he becomes a particle in the mass, ruled only by what Nietzsche called the spirit of gravity.

Reforms by advances, that is, by new methods or gadgets, are of course impressive at first, but in the long run they are dubious and in any case dearly paid for. They by no means increase the contentment or happiness of people on the whole. Mostly, they are deceptive sweetenings of existence, like speedier communications which unpleasantly accelerate the tempo of life, and leave us with less time than ever before. Omnis festinatio ex parte diaboli est - all haste is of the devil, as the old masters used to say.

Reforms by retrogressions, on the other hand, are as a rule less expensive and in addition more lasting, for they return to the simpler, tried and tested ways of the past and make the sparsest use of newspapers, radio, television, and supposedly timesaving innovations."

- Carl Jung - Memories, Dreams, Reflections -

cirrus clouds

the fall / flat of angles

loner deluxe / snow was melting, roads were wet

popol vuh / kha - white structures 1

chris bell / i am the cosmos

rupie edwards / dr. satans echo chamber

sam amidon / how come that blood

yo la tengo / stockholm syndrome

billy bragg & wilco / ingrid bergman

cluster / hollywood

The contents of George's Marvellous Medicine

Bathroom items: Golden Gloss Hair Shampoo, toothpaste, some shaving soap, vitamin enriched face cream, hair remover ("Smear it on your legs"), Brillident (for cleaning false teeth), Dishworth's Famous Dandruff Cure, liquid paraffin, Nevermore Ponking Deodorant Spray and nail varnish.
Shed items: Chicken Medicine, Horse strength throat lozenges, cow ointment, sheep dip and pig pills.
Kitchen cupboard: Curry powder, mustard powder, a tin of black peppercorns, a bottle of extra hot chilli sauce and a bottle of horse radish sauce.
Other kitchen items: SuperWhite (for automatic washing machines), WaxWell Floor Polish, flea powder, canary seeds and Dark Tan Shoe Polish.
Bedroom items: Lipstick ,"Flower of Turnip," (it smells like old cheese), Helga's Hair Set, Pink Plaster Face Powder and a powderpuff.
Garage items: Engine oil, anti-freeze and a handful of grease.
Also: One quart dark brown gloss paint (for colour) and petrol.

thanks yous to wikipedia