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drizzle softly

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18°C, soft drizzle, warm, humid & demotivating. Cycle 38miles

Third ride this week where the start and finish were in good conditions but the middle- miserable penetrating drizzle.
Packing bags again. See you…

Fugitive Motel : 

Lost in a lullaby
Side of the road
Melt in a memory
Slide in a solitude
Not ‘til I can read by the moon
Am I going anywhere
Not ‘til I can read by the moon

Chorus
I blow you a kiss
It should reach you tomorrow
As it flies from the other side of the world
From my room in my fugitive motel
Somewhere in the dust bowl
It flies from the other side of the world

‘I’m tired’ I said
‘You always look tired’ she said
‘I’m admired’ I said
‘You always look tired’ she said
Not ‘til I can read by the moon
Am I going anywhere
Not ‘til I can read by the moon

Curtains stay closed
But everyone knows
You hear through the walls in this place
Cigarette holes for every lost soul
To give up the ghost in this place
Give me strength
Give me wings

[Elbow]

 

 

Rivershoes

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18°C, the rain moved away

Searched & Searched: before going to France, I turned over the house looking for these shoes. Made by Speedo, which I bought for swimming in rivers. My poor feet can’t abide the sharp stones. They would have been brilliant swimming in the ‘frozen lake’ or that time wading under the waterfall in that plungepool. That one was so difficult I wore my hiking boots (poor boots).

the madness is in finding these shoes after the holiday.

If it’s not one thing…

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3°C, low cloud, grey.

Roads now ridable, but bike not: The lights don’t work and it’s not clear why. I think it’s a cable, the one with the switch in, that has failed. Just as I was really feeling the urge to get some miles in.

Later: I found the fault, after poking around with a volt-meter and eliminating one possibility after another. They now work and are ready for tomorrow’s commute. Fog & mist is due so they better be bright.

Back to Tom Waits

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9°C, clearing, windy.

Watch Her Disappear :

(Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan)


Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you

And from a window across the lawn I watched you undress

Wearing your sunset of purple tightly woven around your hair

That rose in strangled ebony curls

Moving in a yellow bedroom light

The air is wet with sound

The faraway yelping of a wounded dog

And the ground is drinking a slow faucet leak

Your house is so soft and fading as it soaks the black summer heat

A light goes on and the door opens

And a yellow cat runs out on the stream of hall light and into the yard


A wooden cherry scent is faintly breathing the air

I hear your champagne laugh

You wear two lavender orchids

One in your hair and one on your hip

A string of yellow carnival lights comes on with the dusk

Circling the lake with a slowly dipping halo

And I hear a banjo tango


And you dance into the shadow of a black poplar tree

And I watched you as you disappeared

I watched you as you disappeared

Hersh

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12°C, rain.

Lyrics: Kristin Hersh is probably the musician that I listen to most this autumn. They are delivered as if spoken to a specific person; such a powerful device. Some lines could be written directly to me; so beguiling.
Tuesday Night :
When you sleep you tell me off I told you once before I can’t resist you When I sleep I build you up I make you king of here I can’t resist you I can’t wait…I’ll suck down another water while I wait I watch the clock turn blue  and think of you while I wait  I can’t wait the moon shines through my dress  and through my glass I promise not to drink until you’re home I can’t wait… the moon pales even when  I think it holds the face  of the clock I watch for you  While I wait
I can’t wait…
 
Me And My Charms :
You can come back when you want  just know that I’ll be here I haven’t left this step  and when the lights go out  I pick the angel up
I only have two hands…  she here? is she here right now? drive her off;  don’t bother to call I’m checking out today  me and my charms 
when I kiss the angel  I have a taste of you  when I take the angel  I have a piece  you can come back I haven’t left you yet  and when the lights go out I pick the angel up  I only have two left feet  all I have in my hands  me and my charms when I kiss the angel I have a taste of me and my charms down on the ground you can’t leave me now I haven’t left you yet
 
I want to hear more….

Revenge Songs

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14°C, crystal clear, sunshine and hard-edged shadows.

Jacob Golden: "Revenge Songs" is presented with a euphonic sound, simple songs with charm and energy in places. Other times the close miked vocals create an intimate contact with the singer which invites repeated listening. There is none of the bitter melancholy of Malcolm Middleton, but this chap is far younger- this is, after all his debut album. there is another which should be worth getting.
The other new purchase worth discussing is the Andrew Wyeth book: "Memory and Magic". His art is a natural step from Hammershøi’s paintings. Some bear very close comparison, if only to suggest further understanding of both. The book is based on a set of excellent quality plates and three main essays by; Christopher Crossman, Kathleen A. Foster and Michael R. Taylor. I confess I have only heard of the last one, and have yet to read any of them- the book only arrived yesterday.