Friday, June 8, 2012

[playlist] 6/7/2012

watch out for black holes

1. Nomadic Firs - Vines
2. Silver Swans - Holidays
3. Collarbones - Don Juan
4. Golden Ghost - Plain Sight
*5. Beach House - Wild - Bloom
6. Computer Magic - Electronic Fences

*7. La Sera - Real Boy - Sees the Light
8. Magic Man - South Dakota
9. Luminary Youth - Timeshift pt.2
10. Birthdays - I'm Keeping Some of Mine for Me
11. Parades - Past Lives
12. Monster Rally - Moonglow(Yalls Remix)
13. Baths - Nightly, Daily
14. Alemayehu Eshete - kegigizew Bertchi - Ethiopiques Volume 8
*15. Here We Go Magic - Over the Ocean - A Different Ship
16. Volcano choir - Island, IS
17. Hooded Fang - Laughing
18. Jacob Lee Tobin - Focus
19. Outerwaves - Big Cats
20. Tomas Barfod - November Skies feat Nina Kinert
21. Lovers - Barnacle

One of the poems my mom read on the show...

The snails never had is so good.
Today my daughter has discovered you and is cherishing your eel bodies and frail horns like a fairytale. How earnest we become over something which before we gladly would have smashed. I pull weeds and wonder where this particular species of plant, this weed with miniature flowers and new green burrs has come from, finding a home in the snail’s salt flat raceway. With glee I excise this source from outdoors before these burrs, fast burr from burr turn brown and start nesting in my socks and cuffs.
I am aware as working fades
and we gardeners lose our light, that sounds from a once-a-year neighborhood carnival ebb, then pick up force like the wind just before the sun goes down. As if our air were just too full of these sounds of children’s voices, sirens doubt, jubilation, that a maelstrom is all that can cleave day from night. Her flashlight wobbles back inside, jostling just below the height of her elbow, satisfied with snails.
I honestly come to the Post Office to visit her nails. It is as if her nails have drained some power of beauty from the rest of her to keep themselves alive. Her fingernails, Coming Attractions, Picasso Retrospectives
riffing on my stamps and certified letters, The Rockettes kicking away on the ends of her two wrists, lipstick and blue. She plants a gem, a heartthrob, words poems on each nail. The Eleventh Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Cheat Thy Nails, nails who sing all the live-long, postal service day away.
Christine Jordan


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