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Friday, 22 June 2018

give a bug blot enough time and it may bleed into a bird or are those raindrops tears

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File1106 | by sotblindphot


File1106 | by sotblindphot

File1106 | by sotblindphot


641 | by pkomo

641: photo by Petros Kotzabasis, 14 June 2018
It should be like nothing you have ever seen before

It should be like something you have seen in a dream

It should be like something you have seen in a previous life

It should be like something you have once seen and felt deeply but could never explain to anyone

It should feel eerily familiar as though you had been seeing it your whole life

It should be like the song of the nightingale which you have not seen vanishing back into the thicket on the beautiful summer night long ago somewhere else

Je suis trop jeune pour passer le permis... | by woltarise

Pale | by johnjackson808

723 | by sotblindphot

Untitled | by Sakis Dazanis

Untitled: photo by Sakis Dazanis, 13 June 2018

Untitled | by umberto verdoliva

DSC_0017-22F | by makrismakis10

9 comments:

TC said...

wall of voodoo: factory 1982

Now I know I had something to say but the problem is to say something
Uhh...you gotta say it
And I still don't remember a thing since that funny gas
Came out of that pipe next to me / I guess they didn't ok it
Now I remember--did I tell ya?
Cut my thumb off at the knuckle on a broken band saw
Didn't see the belt buckle or the blade slip
And I remember when the doctor did it up with a stitch
Funny thing...still got a scratch that I can't itch where my thumb was
Now I've brought the same piece of chicken in a bag to work everyday
For the last twenty years or so
And I really don't mind, work assembly line
Got an intercom blasting the news and the latest on the baseball scores
Come around every Friday, well I get a paycheck
Take the same road home that I come to work on, heck, it's a living
And I got another factory at home
Got a barbeque, pink mustang, fenders chrome
And at nine o'clock I sit there in my chair
And I don't know why I lose my hair
And then I go to / and then I go to / and then I go to sleep
Well I like to know what I'm doing when I do it
And I do what I'm doing 'cause I don't know what to do when I'm not doing it
Sometimes I remember as a boy my father told me I could grow up
To be anything I really wanted to be / anything
And everyday at lunch I still look for my lost digit
Still got that funny scratch, so maybe when I find it I can itch it
And I got a little rubber pool in the backyard for the kids to wade in
And i....i...i...i...i...i?
I got another factory back home
Got a little backyard, pink mustang, fenders chrome
At nine o'clock I'm in my chair sat down
Just lately now when my wife talks back to me I slap her around
And then I go to / and then I go to / and then I go to sleep

Charles T. Gray / Mark W. Moreland / Oliver Nanini / Stanard Ridgeway Funsten

TC said...

Dwelt in Socal '80-'84 and got a load of the strange high desert angst of Stan Ridgeway and WOV, maybe doesn't translate well beyond epoch and locale but definitely the #1 interesting thing happening, then and there, if you were me.

WOV: Factory (from Call of the West), live, Atlanta 1982

TC said...

Of course after ten years it's no surprise to me that nobody bothers w the music links though they are always the hidden point of the post, which just goes to show once more that all points are completely pointless.

And you are not getting even one tiny bit famous ever by clicking on anything lol ha ha ha!

TC said...

Stan though, bloody genius do admit, give it up, but of course - not a word!! Too skeert!!

TC said...

OK - The sound and vibe = maybe a bit Tehachapi specific, still tell me please to whom among muricans these lines do not apply -

Now I know I had something to say but the problem is to say something
Uhh...you gotta say it

TC said...

I mean to address issues of strangulation and articulation here, but mercifully the good wife has arisen and stept out into the marine layer cloakt traffic stream braced for the rugged passage so that'll be the end of the party folks, it's once again been a pleasure entertaining you, unless it hasn't.

Wooden Boy said...

Well I like to know what I'm doing when I do it
And I do what I'm doing 'cause I don't know what to do when I'm not doing it

It's this that catches the feel of work best for me.

And those phantom limbs - the itch where the soul once was.

kent said...

Link me, T-man. It's always a pleasure. k

TC said...

Thanks D & K.

Stan grasps the contemporary meaning of work better than a thousand case studies.

Well I like to know what I'm doing when I do it
And I do what I'm doing 'cause I don't know what to do when I'm not doing it

is a brilliant opening of an invisible door into the yawning canyonesque emptiness that is the present, a large darkness always closing in all about... as we continue to be "going forward" to perpetrate (oh No!) more wonderfully inane Self-Driving Progress.

The world I grew up in was one in which, every Sunday evening on television, Betty Furness opened the door of the giant GE fridge containing a groaning cornucopia of food (all shelves, compartments, door packed solid), awhile Ronald Reagan peeked in and the inevitable mantra was intoned - "Progress Is Our Most Important Product".

At the moment however there is no longer product. Brand marketing and a nation of nothing but 28 year old tech grifters, all driving up and down the bumper-to-bumper death chute out front, preparing for the next big lemming leap off Land's End.

And this -

Now I know I had something to say but the problem is to say something
Uhh...you gotta say it

All about me now I hear a distant muffled babbling, a bit like the sound of someone in the next room on another planet attempting to express something while being strangled....