Hot Source Plural
The writing pipeline is a vortex, 35mm temptation returns, and you might just be the asshole after all.
Album four is on my mind and I haven’t even really finished writing album three and we haven’t released album two yet although we’re planning on doing so despite not having released album one fully yet. That sentence would be beyond ridiculous were it not for the fact that A. It’s true and B. I think we have the material? What catches me off guard thismorning is the knowledge that I would almost certainly perform some of those album four tracks differently now…which is wild to say for something that doesn’t exactly have all the lyric yet but yeah. I feel different. Time something something…
I mentioned the other day that the artwork for Album II is nearing completion on the legal side…I mean, artistically it’s where it needs to be, we’re just dotting the exclamation marks and crossing the sevens now and shit’s getting real because it turns out someone might be interested after all. Maybe. Maybe they even want to see what this thing looks like on wax. We should know for sure by the end of the week and have something in writing that I can point to and be like, “Look, see?! Someone’s interested!” That would be nice.
This F2 has been staring at me for the past couple of days now and it’s a damn good job that I already have my quota of F bodies (including both a stupidly beautiful FM2 and a black F3) otherwise it would already be incorporated. It’s a beautiful example of a legendary camera and this copy’s been recently serviced too, with a worryingly clean bill of health up to and including the meter, shutter speeds, and a mint set of light seals…
Off the factory line sometime late 1976, it’s…well…look at it. The slight brassing only adds to its dark lustre. The advance and shutter release action is…choice. Hmm. I’ll post it up here and perhaps the eldritch gods of the interwebs might take it far, far away from me…
They are eighty-six on the only brand of Sriracha that I would entertain but have a wide range of Encona concoctions
There are at least two kinds of Rana in the fridge at home but I am keenly aware that my apothecary is Mother Hubbard due to a lengthy period of culinary neglect. I ditch an edit shortly before six, grab the car and go for an evening trip around the getting place, namely for fresh pepper, rock salt, and ’erbs. They are eighty-six on the only brand of Sriracha that I would entertain but have a wide range of Encona concoctions, including a Carolina Reaper that has a sufficient number of chillies and an alligator on the bottle.
Fruit continues to fall from the forbidden tree. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to go in cold. Safe to say, ‘Pluribius’ is a wild concept and conjures up a plethora of metaphors that I’m still breaking down. I have a list. At the very top is ‘The internet but actually collaborative as opposed to incessantly combative?’ Yeah. Wild. They seem to suggest that the price of peace on Earth could be something you personally may or may not be willing to pay and honestly…I can see the arguments both for and against.
I consider it up and to the point that I figure out who’s responsible for the whole thing
I’m wary by nature of shows with a “what if” premise, mainly because they often turn out to be or feel like a series of situational checkboxes and I briefly consider that this might be the case here. That is, I consider it up and to the point that I figure out who’s responsible for the whole thing. Reassured that there is almost certainly a plan and that both Vince and Kim are likely to respect time invested, I gorge on the first two thirds of season one in a single sitting. If you’ve ever felt like you need space from the rest of world and everyone in it but not considered the possibility that they and it in turn might just as readily require that same you-shaped amount of space away from you…you might just be the second asshole this show was made for.
Writing in silence is a chore. Writing to the soundtrack of anything with a lyric is an impossibility, recommended only by sociopaths. As such, I regularly opt for lo-fi stuff on Yobtob and recently came across this guy. That I can pretend I am in a cafe and he is playing live is a bonus, especially so as I can occasionally check on him and whatever he’s doing while situated in his appropriately rad lounge or by the beach or even on a jetty of some description. It’s dialled in and immediately I am whirling in rags.
JD out.