I am sometimes weary
Of this search for drama in a nutshell,
The opera of the tragic sense,
Which I would be gladly rid of.
A shameless keyhole god
Keeps spying on my worst,
Incontinently glued
To the obscene dumb show
Of the debasers of currency
In the private cabinet...
Those who stood
Naked with me,
Adorable, adored,
On the magnet-head
Of the inexorable pin.
Why should I be bothered with it?
posted by heliotrope at 12:02 PM
3 Comments:
Hey amigo,
Thanks so very much for checking out some of the Idjo transmissions, and indeed for your very kind and engaged words. Yes, everything is played and vocalised by myself, bedroom auteur that I am... Anyway, if you like, I'd love to send you a copy of the album, as in sequence, and in context, I feel the songs enjoy greater coherence....
Also, just had a brief scan through this 'ere blog, a) it's incredibly fucking beautiful and b) I adore the way you juxtapose ideas, a real musicality to your sentence rhythms, composition. I'm gonna give the blog a more thorough going-over ce soir, when back from, ugh, work...
Anyway,
Nick.xoxox
Wow. Just gorgeous. mas, I've just read your last four posts here and.... consider it a mutual admiration society... I really enjoy both this and sun spots. They'll be regular stopping points from now on for me.
Take care, and warm regards from Switzerland,
Mieze
Hey man,
Ok, yeh, myown blogs have pretty much concluded. But, my email address: bruxo_el@yahoo.co.uk, write me with your address etc and a CD shallt be yours most imminently...
xx
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