Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Surely a song with a title like this must be banned soon?

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Only think about the future in daylight.

Michael Garrick - Return of an Angel

Do writers write differently when there's google earth? When they can't imagine the places that already are on the map, and when a place doesn't have to be drawn from the writer's own memory.

Teddy Lasry - Earth

Sunday, 23 January 2011

"Excuse me, Sir! Can you change a dollar into quarters?"
"Sorry, I haven't got any change."
"Ah, well, never mind."
"By the way, what are you doing in a back alley like this one? There's nothing to see here."
"Well, I sort of like the peace and quiet here. Also, I'm a bit fascinated that such a quiet street exists, right here in the middle of New York City."
"Yeah, it's real quiet now, but you should have been here thirty or forty years ago. There used to be a jazz club down there on the corner, called Galaxy."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"And do you know why it was called Galaxy? Because it was full of stars! Ha ha ha"
"Ha ha ha. Yeah, well now it's more like a black hole..."
"It is. You're right, it sure is..."

David van Tieghem - Galaxy

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

I got clouds on ma Ericsson, clouds on ma Nokia.

Thursday, 13 January 2011

Suddenly awake. Subtly overwhelmed.

DJ Nate - Find Your Dreams

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

We bought the present in the department store and walked ildly through the cold towards our home, arm in arm, silent in thought. Halfways we stopped by the florist and Mr Nilsson came out into the street and showed us carnations and lilies. He was just as silent and strangely absent as we were but went to great lenghts to show us his goods. We nodded our goodbyes, satisfied that we hadn't been seriously distracted. I turned my head once and saw the florist arranging some flowers in buckets out on the pavement, very content, very much in a place of his own.

Basil Kirchin & John Coleman - A Time For Loving

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

Tuesday, 4 January 2011

A glass of cold kisel in a surreal garden. Noone knows if it's sunrise or sunset. We're waitning for the eclipse.

Ann Steel - Quite Still