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'"I want... to feel... PAIN,' said Harry."
Long before my apartment became home to high-end audio components — even before the wonderful Arcam Solo, even before the blog — I promised myself and the universe that I would never let my apartment become cluttered by boxes and cables…
As Potts puts it: "No doubt Howl will continue to be recognized as an essential twentieth-century poem, but if we aspire this year to recognize the anniversary of a Ginsberg poem that still seems relevant and challenging, we should fast-forward ten years to 1966, when the iconic Beat poet penned 'Wichita Vortex Sutra"—an antiwar lament that carries an observational honesty not present in the MTV din of Howl."
Via Alex Ross' The Rest Is Noise.
"I'm doing a pilot study for my thesis and need some help. I put a survey online about new radio technologies, and need 100 completed surveys in the next week. Can you pass the link along to folks you know, who might help?"
Let's put her over her goal.
When the wind blows hard, our building makes a sound like an old ship swaying on the sea. Not that I would know how that sounds. But I can imagine. I'm very attracted to this sound. It makes me wish for more windy days. It makes me wonder if I was born to live on the sea.
It sounds like wood bending and stretching and almost, but never quite, breaking. It sounds like the tensing of some wooden instrument whose strings are tuned too tight. It sounds like the wooden floor beneath a cellist's feet. It sounds like waking up too early on Saturday morning. I don't know…