high fidelity

"Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all, you 're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing. The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up is hard to do. It takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick it off with a killer to grab attention. Then you gotta take it up a notch. But you don't want to blow your wad. So then you gotta cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules." -high fidelity (movie version)

rob fleming-it & create a mix-tape (er, mp3s). fuck up as much as you want, you can perfect it as often as you'd like.

create musical crimes...

juice vs drink

berry, grape, & orange flavoured drink. better known as red, purple, & orange.

these brightly colored, liquid jewels, lined behind a refrigerated case at a corner store, caught my eye. sadly, they were missing the yellow, green, & blue, creating an incomplete rainbow of flavors.

at $0.35 each or 3/$1, i decided to go for the deal (what a steal!) and pick up one of each color they had.

all 3 had the unaturally sweet & artifical taste (no surprise) that clings to the tongue. despite not being refreshing or delicious (i would even say gross), i couldn't help slightly enjoying them. they reminded me of being 5, sitting out on the porch a hot summer's day, hands & face dyed & sticky from drink.

pretty ugg-lies

ugg. that's exactly what i think when i see girls with those appropriately named suede tan boots with the fur poking out the top.



but i saw these crocheted lovelies almost a year ago in a mag (not available to the public at time of publication) & have been scanning for them since. & i finally own them. thanks to nordstrom's annual sale, i saved $40.

my favorite deadly sin....

...is a toss up between gluttony & lust. the two have merged into one here: DROOL.

if you forget me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

~Pablo Neruda~

the cave singers. dancing on our graves (live at bbc).

they use a washboard. how could you not like them?