The T.V. repair man suddenly exploded into a million tiny pieces of green and could never hold a wrench the same. He came to your door pixalated and shimmering. Is that real or something we should comfort? He swung his head with a powerful gusto, spinning his wiry neck in circles until his knees lost all tendons and snapped suddenly like an alligator's mouth closing upon it's prey. Standing there, facing a skeleton of green, you shook his hand and said, "Thanks."
Try to make it come true and spellbind the orbs to glow upon your squared off domain. Smiles and wheat and weep in the straw for eternity's explanation of it's utopia. Row the boat through a moat of glow sticks and ghosts and boots to get to those sounds. You're getting closer, hear it? It hurts so good to wake up with a little less. Paddle and wade, lines of poles blend in with the trees and you tend to walk into them. Lost duets and melody days get hazy and blurry with the quickness of a New England fox. A trap grabs the foot, waving it in front of music-stained eyes, exhaustion and jelly. Voices echo around around around with the droll of repetition yet the humor of butt scratcha's and knowing grins make the sound dazzle amongst the dirt. Melt meld molten skin turns to liquid as fast as the chocolate ice cream that laces between your fingers. It tastes good. Gooey good. Ice cream and names have never had such an important relation in a place like this. This place, with all it's glorified madness is my hospital, my sectioned mental basket case wing. I have a corridor with a view and see all the other blind people walking the streets in true oblivion. This, right here, will make everyone get better with medicine bottles filled with riffs and IVs pumping the beat of a drum through feeble arms painted gold. This is our haven where hot dogs replace salads and computers are something for people with polished hair and toes- the dirty creatures cannot touch the aluminum and silver- we might get electrocuted. Burn the zero's of the world, fly like moths wings, make babies in summertime clothes, plant the divided sky and stay there. Just be there to see yellow reach the moon and say "Hey Moon, remember me?" And when the moon replies "Yes", she opens up the skies of silence and allows you to dance in her night until she cannot be of any further assistance. She gives you her playground and hides away when the other lights get as big as a tyrannosaurs you cannot dream of anything else except of what's right in front of you. I don't know what happens before and after this, but I'm not sure I need too.
I just love my "Party Shuffle" on iTunes. I keep meaning to write about the cool mixes it creates, but I always forget to sit down and reminisce because I'm busy listening to the next song. "Party Shuffle" creates mixes I couldn't even dream to think of myself- and growing up with an addiction to editing songs [via mia madre] I think it's enlightening every time I hear two songs that aren't supposed to belong together blend so perfectly- like a cup of the purest Colombian coffee.
What iTunes did: The end of The Roots' "Rolling With Heat" ends with a woman speaking as if she was hosting a radio broadcast. She says, "It's the top of the hour, we're about to prepare you for another two hours of music-free commercials." AND THEN the break in the track stopped for oh about .5 seconds, only to drop the down beat of a soft bongo drum. Enter angelic psychedelic Shepherd's Dog "Lovesong Of The Buzzard". The twangs of hippie strings after The Roots' mean muggin' rhythms seemed to purrfect to be accidental. The space between the two songs was spot on because it gave the listener a moment to breath while transitioning with the previous artist's words. Both songs have a constant rhythm, thought created with different instruments, therefore, the ease of the beats just flowed one into the other- " The Lovesong of Heat" or "Rolling with the Buzzard" could be the name. Post-mix, I day-dreamed a DJ playing this transition, and saw everyone raising their lighters and exhaling.
If you have those two songs (which ya most definitely should!), try listening to them back to back- I think you'll like it.
The most bad ass opening sequence I've ever seen for a TV show. I love the shots of the bayou mixed with the innocence of children, the eccentricities of the church, the notion of sex that's associated with vampires without including a shot of an actual vampire, the creepy myths of the south, metaphors of the death and re-birth of bugs and animals, and the drawl of Jace Everett's voice.