10.25

The fog has long since burned away; water feeling the sun's furnace eight minutes late. Anyone would say that the sky is clear, but to my eyes there hangs a gauze invisible. Loosely draped across the air, it thickens and cozens yet more as light pools in my valley. Whose choice: this element of air? The earthly tones of the land all fade to gold as the immaterial weighs ever more upon them, choking sight, choking noise, choking all.

Rock and Roll

Using my non-patented Robby's Own Comprehension and Knowledge system and the moderately-patented Robby's Own Language Logger, I'm going to review, compare, and ultimately understand some music in the same way I reviewed the top forty. Luckily for me, this time Emely has decided to be kind and give me a top five. This should be done in a day.
Additionally: my metric of personal success is again whether or not I would spend money on the song.

The composition follows:
"Each are special and completely different, though they speak of the same thing: love." - EF

1. Glory of Love - Jimmy Durante
2. Last Request - Paulo Nutini
3. Cheek to Cheek - Fred Astaire
4. Il Mondo - Jimmy Fontana
5. Flowers in Your Hair - The Lumineers

More after the break.

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My 2014 music post needs to wait. First, I haven't even finished the music list of FIVE that Emely sent me. I'm on the LAST piece of music and I haven't finished.
Secondly, it's the end of quarter on Wednesday, which is why my apology post itself has also been late.

An Acolyte Journey
My methodology will be slightly different this year. I want to listen to all the music once through at least before I jump straight into the essay-writing and would-I-buying. I'm not going to be able to give it the time to listen only; I'm listening to the first two as I write this. I think this is true to the listening habits of both Stephen, the list compiler, and of most humanity.
Music is not a distraction, but it's certainly there to ease and smooth. That we use it as we do other things says more about us, I think, than I have time to unpack.

Anyhow, that's my non-permanent update. Look for more in the coming months.

10.13

I can't distinguish where her hand-stitches end and the machine picks up. I know—intellectually—that her hands finally failed as she made this quilt. I know, but it doesn't mean I believe. Each point in line. Each pucker perfect. The thread lines regular and expected. I know she ran to her ability's end. But I can't see it.

10.12

It's a dreadful day to be outside, but there he stands, a hollow bulk of coat layers, next to the dumpster. I have to assume he's fielding an illicit phone call, otherwise why be outside? I imagine a steam-breathed woman on the other side while he no doubt talks to his mother about the first grey day of fall.