Midnight Pub

when music is whirly and warped


I am listening to "Lady Picture Show" by STP, as it got stuck in my head earlier, and it sounds so weird. I was listening to Gordon Lightfoot the other night, and it sounded odd - like it was more or less chords and lyrics thought of "on the spot", and then performed poorly. Like my mind/soul has become an ephemeral moment of self-amusing thought and feeling. No *direction*. No *goal*.

No heads or tails comes of this writing, either. It just is.


A whirlwind of convo I'm missing out on here.

Yea, some of this is over my head. Since a/the hiatus from writing, I just don't comprehend much anymore. Or don't wish to?

Hello, hi, good day to all



Huh. I'd forgotten about that video, and honestly don't even remember the song, probably because I was so enamored of "Plush" that I basically played just that endlessly whenever STP came to mind.

Ah, the blind spot also known as obsession....





Just dropped in to get myself a quick black hack of java (fix).

I'm with you, man, the "Lady Picture Show", is a show for weirdos, and I love it. It sticks with you, wether you like it or not, cause it's fucking hot, like this steaming brew I'm now holding in my hand.

For the rest of you, you who don't get it, sneak in through the de-googled backdoor and have a listen:

Lady Picture Show

"If you could read my mind" with Lightfoot is a song that comes to mind, not beacuse it refers to what you experienced, I don't have the foggiest idea of what you heard, which Gordon "softy, softy" you were manhandled by, but because it somehow confirmes the absence of "direction" and "goal" in your post. What you've written is more like a poem, and poems are always ephemeral, or they should be at least, when they dig deep down into the void and stay there, forever, in a fleeting now, only accessible to the ones that truly bow, before themselves and the one and only true God – Humility.

It is as it should be, we don't have a fucking clue, we just need to embrace what is due… to us, the dudes and dudettes on rebound, back to life, to the things we haven't yet found, but need, desperately, if we are to keep up with this slow Nightfall City speed.

Walking past a Pawn Shop window this morning, on Main Street, I saw J. P. Shilo, staring at me, through a fish tank. What the fuck, man? "Whirled and warped", the music is… for sure, like this, a reply that can't see eye to eye, with anything. But really, it's fine, I'm good with that. Are you?

I Can't Say Fish Don't Cry

I'll keep on reading you, man. You're a beacon of hope. Don't you dare stop or drop out of this race… I'll fucking taze you if you do!

Here you are, a coffee, black, and a good old handshake.




You've some wonderful stream of reflectivity of consciousness, i.e. consciousness cajoled into necessarily inadequate word containers lining the slippery slopes of conceptuality!




It's Sunday, man, a clouded day, a day of reflection (and perhaps some nice interaction).

"The Slippery Slopes" opens at 10 p.m. It's a new movie theater. Or so I've heard. Old flicks by Bergman, Tarkovskij, Fellini… and the likes. Do you know where it is? Maybe up Dusk's End? Need something to rest my eyes upon before I leave town.

Now, ladies and gents, let's have some original blues.


> It's Sunday, man, a clouded day, a day of reflection
> (and perhaps some nice interaction).

It was cloudy here as well. Rain on and off.

<suddenly wonders if anyone's ever called that "switch(ed) rain">

> Maybe up Dusk's End? Need something to rest my eyes upon
> before I leave town.

Fun to see the word 'dusk' again, as once upon a time became the name of my first AIX machine, and remains my favorite time of the day.