Jambalaya - Gerry and the Pacemakers

Eating some of my mom’s homemade jambalaya while listening to this. Peace and deliciousness before the hellish part of the day I call work.

“Working Class Hero” - John Lennon

Thinking of you on this day, John. Thank you for everything.

I don’t know if you have ever taken LSD, but when you do so the doors of perception, as Aldous Huxley, Jim Morrison and their adherents ceaselessly remind us, swing open wide. That is actually the sort of phrase, unless you are William Blake, that only makes sense when there is some LSD actually swimming about inside you. In the cold light of the cup of coffee and banana sandwich that are beside me now it appears to be nonsense, but I expect you know what it is taken to mean. LSD reveals the whatness of things, their quiddity, their essence. The wateriness of water is suddenly revealed to you, the carpetness of carpets, the woodness of wood, the yellowness of yellow, the fingernailness of fingernails, the allness of all, the nothingness of all, the allness of nothing. For me music gives access to every one of these essences of existence, but at a fraction of the social or financial cost of a drug and without the need to cry “Wow!” all the time, which is one of LSD’s most distressing and least endearing side-effects.

Stephen Fry, Moab is My Washpot: an Autobiography

To Dan, my fellow creative writing major and lover of Echo and the Bunnymen. Thinking of you.

(Source: Spotify)

I’m really sick of these because I’ve never really come along one I think is actually funny. This one, however, made me chuckle.

I’m really sick of these because I’ve never really come along one I think is actually funny. This one, however, made me chuckle.

“Making Time” by The Creation

Intro to Wes Anderson’s Rushmore. 

This film will always be one of the closest to my heart. And I love this intro. So very much.

I’ve got more friends than I’ve had hot dinners
Some of them were losers, but the rest of them are winners
Rick, John, Sally, a connection named Paul
Holy low on money, their intentions are tall
We smoke and talk in my room and we dig everything

David Bowie, “I Dig Everything”