at blackwater pond the tossed waters have settled after a night of rain. i dip my cupped hands. i drink a long time. it tastes like stone, leaves, fire. it falls cold into my body, waking the bones. i hear them deep inside me, whispering 'oh what is that beautiful thing that just happened?'
coming home on the bus up finchley road, the side of the street suddenly drops out, just for a moment, into this vast expanse of train tracks and sky. i can't pass it without looking up from my book or my conversation; space like that is so rare in the city
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i had my final exam today [art history]. it went well, and even featured some of my favorite pieces like barbara kruger's "your gaze hits the side of my face" and "dying gaul" and whistler's "falling rocket". and now the class is all done. i'll sure miss it, but no more work means plenty of time to read read read, and to play, finally
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it's a classic, and a frequent player on nineties radio, but i think even taken out of its context it's powerful, moving, simple - really one of my favorite songs. here's joan osborne's "one of us" for the taking.
it turns out that when john mayer isn't trying to be well-liked, he can make good music. the john mayer trio is much more jazzy than radio-john mayer, i like it much better. i listened to "try! john mayer trio live in concert"over and over today. i'll post it in a day or two.
he said, "you seem so lovely, chloe, your pretty body and your hair are smoother than the rose and snowy, soft as plum and light as air. i give you this garland for your head, this little flower, and i give you all i have," he said. she smiled and she took his hand.