Of late I'm lost in a mawkish sea of '70s pop and the occasional noise track for good measure. These are warm-weather melodies (the mawk-pop, anyway), but I've exhausted (for the evening) my resources of winter music ( Read more... )

LOVE & DEATH
(a mix in 4 acts)
(Copyright LC 2008)

ACT I - YOU DIED

TEEN ANGEL - Mark Dinning
HONEY - Bobby Goldsboro
DEATH LETTER - Son House
MOODY RIVER - Pat Boone
EBONY EYES - Everly Brothers
EMMA - Hot Chocolate
ODE TO BILLY JOE - Bobbie Gentry
LAURIE (STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN) - Dickey Lee

ACT II - I DIED

SEASONS IN THE SUN - Terry Jacks
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I got to fill an RX for John Edwards today!!!

Love, Alicia

Dead Ringers and "Dandy." Papercuts and Persepolis. Chili Magick, chilly evenings, and Charalambides. Succulents and succor. "This is a pharmacy, not a fast-food restaurant."

tbc

Sometimes this thing happens on my front porch. It's this thing where sirens from Rosemary Street excite the dogs in the neighboring kennel to near-hysteria, and the dogs' collective wails create haunting false harmonies with the sirens, and all this floats down over the creek to my house at the bottom of the hill ( Read more... )

For the first time today I realized that the trees were changing colors. We went to the movies and saw "Clue," and Red Stripe was the cheapest beer there, and we shared a whiskey bottle between the seats and laughed about Yvette's monstrous tits. We left without viewing the second half of the double feature because David doesn't like vampire ( Read more... )

After four months of full-time lethargy, the IBM (Inimical Bowel Movement) is once again completing tasks and processing those pesky processes, to the extent that I am able to once again discard the world of books (aka the analogue Internet) for the real deal. First order of business: my new tattoo (see below)


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What is there to do but get drunk? After all, the Mariachi band played their very best song for us upon request, and we clapped and laughed and spoke poor Spanish, but produced endless dollar bills to stuff into the hole of their guitarron. But over everything I was shivering on my way to and from work, averting my eyes and turning up the volume ( Read more... )

your cheek on mine,
and the divine sensation
of fingers fretting spines
when sleep is creeping close
and the worries of the day
are left behind---
in these I find such tenderness
for you, my love: your cheek
on mine, and sleepy fingers
fretting slumberous spines.

It is a beautiful night, an unseasonable night, and the warm breeze tugs at my temples and elbows, making me secretly restless. I re-read a book from my childhood, One-Eyed Cat by Paula Fox, and now I am stuck inside my own head, dreaming of small simple childhood pleasures: luna moths, dandelions, wild strawberries, mud. Despite grown-up concerns ( Read more... )