Record:
Rufus Wainwright - Want Two
It sounds like crushed velvet feels.
Book:
Tom Robbins - Still Life With Woodpecker
In a society that is essentially designed to organize, direct, and gratify mass impulses, what is there to minister to the silent zones of man as an individual? Religion? Art? Nature? No, the church has turned religion into standardized public spectacle, and the museum has done the same for art. The Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls have been looked at so much that they’ve become effete, sucked empty by too many stupid eyes. What is there to minister to the silent zones of man as an individual? How about a cold childen bone on a paper plate at midnight; how about a lurid lipstick lengthening or shortening at your command; how about a styrofoam nest abandoned by a “bird” you’ve never known; how about a pair of windsheild wipers pursuing one another futilely while you drive home alone through a downpour; how about something beneath a seat touched by your shoe at the movies; how about worn pencils, cute forks, fat little radios, boxes of bow ties, and bubbles on the side of a bathtub? Yes, these are the things, these kite strings and olive oil cans and Valentine hearts stuffed with nougat, that form the bond between the autistic vision and the experiential world; it is to show these things in their true mysterious light that is the purpose of the moon.
Movie:
Dancer in the Dark
I weep.
Song:
Elbow - Ribcage
So, pull my ribs apart and let the sun inside.
