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Leaving the Book of Disquiet … still, …

Love, sleep, drugs and intoxicants are elementary forms of art or rather elementary forms of producing the same effect as art. But love, sleep and drugs all bring with them their own disappointments. One grows sated or disillusioned with love. We wake from sleep and whilst we slept, we did

destiny = the terrible certainty that the thing we have gone to such efforts to avoid will come back but at another level, perhaps the greater, perhaps the lesser for having been denied

Consider what we call repetition within a life – more precisely, within a spiritual life. Presents succeed, encroaching upon one another. Nevertheless, however strong the incoherence or possible opposition between successive presents, we have the impression that each of them plays out “the same life” at different levels. This is what

Objective proof, Or: The full-blown illusion

Europe lead climate change

Jean Batten bin

Spume

T Bone Burnett’s Tooth of Crime – with Sam Shepard – [released on NONESUCH, 2008]

– Sam Shepard, c. 1972 They’re all wrong, all two of them, Rolling Stone and BBC. Although, I see that it’s a BBC Folk and Country Review. And the Independent‘s Andy Gill has some handle on what he’s listening to. Because Henry Burnett’s 2008 album lifts