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To P.S.
The land goes up in flames
Before it fades to black
And so does this heart ablaze
Then bloodied, buried by desire;
The fact’s light is blind
To silhouettes of love, of lust,
Of knowing, and like a blind man
It keeps returning to the place
It drowned last
The Best of Simple, by Langston Hughes
She knelt in front of him
To kiss his forehead and to cry
For love has whispered in her heart
“Awake, awake” – for mere mortals die
”
Over ten years ago you sent me a link to an audio
file for the song “Blonde on Blonde” by Nada Surf.
I enjoyed it and filed it away for later study.
Just yesterday I decided to hunt them down and
find the story. In the process I came across
the following, which brought me a serene but
excited joy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L06x1Ee6Ct4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPs5hWOPoDk
So I thank you for that.
“
Isaak liked two things in life: spaghetti westerns and jazz …
Isaak liked two things in life: spaghetti westerns and jazz. not to say that the full-lipped Italian mavens coexisted on the same plane with the swinging swagger of the big band sound, or that the minimalist art machine fueling the insanity behind the scenes added up to a coherent snapshot of his inner world; and yet this gun-slinging, the indefinite harboring of hate for the sole purpose of exacting revenge, the incessant bass-riddled soloing of the Haitian fight song had an unmistakably binding feel of his personality, some would contend, his alone ..