An apple scented candle is gradually immolating as I'm typing away at this midpoint, fridaynightsaturdaymorning. I guess that's what you would call a recurring theme, apple candles and how the appley fumes stimulate waves and waves of neurological activity.
Earlier on the road:
There are three lanes but everything is deserted apart from the little green car I'm thinking away in. Peculiar but on the opposite side of the road: streams and streams of cars reflecting neon and gold and myriad shapes and colors which seem to blend into a hue I cannot discern. It is all at once stunningly beautiful and utterly captivating how they meander, bored but with purpose, linearly to one destination or another. Cold and cozied from the strangely humid night outside, preoccupied and unoccupied, these strangers in their air-conditioned comforts meshing and sticking and blurring and blending to gleam with such unnoticed beauty. Unnoticed beauty, that's all it is as their lights perforate the mildly tinted glass on my windshield, my cheeks glowing in the rearview. All of this stitched in with one line from one song, and the dusty gravel ridges of bixby canyon bridges swirl like pancake mixture with the lights and the night and the images burn bright bright bright. Zipped by. Five seconds. The glint of Christmas lights on October cars. Waving goodbye to strangers hoping they can't see you, hoping they can.
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both sides now - rachael yamagata
somersault - decoder ring
measurements - james blake
unspoken - four tet
new year's eve - the walkmen
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