There is a certain schizophrenic lady who patronizes my local library. When she’s not busy sating her hypergraphia by filling notebook after notebook with head rattling nonsense, she sometimes takes a few moments to rant at, and occasionally attempt to kick, anyone she can get cornered. I occasionally find myself trapped, often in an elevator, and at the receiving end of one of her patented tirades. The thing is, unlike everyone else at the Library, I kind of like it. I enjoy feeling that I’m just a hair away from understanding the complicated rules of a strange alternate reality. I keep looking for the one clue that will bathe me in the white light of epiphany as I finally see the blindingly obvious reason why Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman have tasked her with deciding which Angel Level Joseph Kennedy has achieved, vis a vis the Purgatory Diamond Age. At the same time, I realize that this lady is 100% completely and totally batshit crazy and is liable to start spitting on me at any moment, a constant danger which is kind of exciting in its own right. This song makes me feel the same way. Singer/lyricist Peter Quinn’s hallucinatory cloak and dagger Henry Miller lyrics feel like they’re about to coalesce into a pretty awesome something (and are perhaps even more interesting because I know they never will), and that ramshackle groove is the perfect accompaniment to the man's hugely entertaining flow of low level madness.Wednesday, October 7, 2009
999,969: Candy Machine — 6 Months of Light
There is a certain schizophrenic lady who patronizes my local library. When she’s not busy sating her hypergraphia by filling notebook after notebook with head rattling nonsense, she sometimes takes a few moments to rant at, and occasionally attempt to kick, anyone she can get cornered. I occasionally find myself trapped, often in an elevator, and at the receiving end of one of her patented tirades. The thing is, unlike everyone else at the Library, I kind of like it. I enjoy feeling that I’m just a hair away from understanding the complicated rules of a strange alternate reality. I keep looking for the one clue that will bathe me in the white light of epiphany as I finally see the blindingly obvious reason why Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman have tasked her with deciding which Angel Level Joseph Kennedy has achieved, vis a vis the Purgatory Diamond Age. At the same time, I realize that this lady is 100% completely and totally batshit crazy and is liable to start spitting on me at any moment, a constant danger which is kind of exciting in its own right. This song makes me feel the same way. Singer/lyricist Peter Quinn’s hallucinatory cloak and dagger Henry Miller lyrics feel like they’re about to coalesce into a pretty awesome something (and are perhaps even more interesting because I know they never will), and that ramshackle groove is the perfect accompaniment to the man's hugely entertaining flow of low level madness.
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