It's the end of the year, I'm at work
and I need pepped up by something. As, generally speaking and subject
to modern lyrical confirmation the drugs don't work I settle for some
cola and a Kit Kat. Strangely my mind can't settle on much other than
marvelling and focusing on the deserving misery of others, not a
worthy theme for the demise of 2011 or good for the soul, but these
things happen. You can at times be overcome by uncontrollable and
often laughable thought patterns that add no value or bring home the
Brownie Points. The blurred line between acceptable and guilty
pleasure is becoming clearer and I must make that crossing. Perhaps
this schadenfreude will leave me as I meditate on the wise words of
Obadiah 1:12, but no, that would never work. Middle Eastern claptrap
from the dawn of so-called civilisation can't help, I'm far too
European now. So seeing or hearing about the smug and self righteous
hitting some temporary lifetime reef is rather good and I prefer,
despite all my higher, better, (whatever you categorise them as )
feelings to savour the moment. I know fine will it wont last either
way but when an inferior snake oil salesman buys a tanker full of
somebody else's even worse snake oil you have to laugh.
The Black Keys – El Camino, a late
but welcome Christmas present: In heaven there will only be guitars,
bass, drums, odd and meaningful vocals and pinches of well placed keyboards. I'm glad I've sorted that out for myself. Maybe one day
all music will sound like this, only enhanced by the vocals of Lulu,
the production of Rick Rubin and far away in the distance and almost
lost in the final mix but discernible just the same the faint growl
of a wah wah pedal. I plan to die happy.
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