@nightjrrs
Music. Noise. Words. There are some records and some books: On Bandcamp.
Bulrush Wainscot (I think). Female (I think). Sometimes get one per year… I guess this our one for this year.
Greek coffee and 53 moth species. 123 Large Yellow Underwings creating a very particular kind of scuttling panic at all times.
Depressed following return from holiday - so making pies with a pastry recipe we got in Greece.
Fire up the rendition of ‘Also sprach Zarathustra’ because THE BOXES OF OUR 12” HAVE ARRIVED…
Failed. Still 40 pages of Little Dorrit to go. The smelly book is returning to England.
Little Dorrit update: p336. End of ‘book one’. Book still smells. At the endurance test-point: several interminable sections of dialogue today - and fewer laughs.
P243 of Little Dorrit. At that point in the book where it will stay open and you leave it open hoping that family members will comment on your progress. But they don’t. And it still smells.
Little Dorrit update. Book still smells. Chlorine not helping as much as I thought. On p202: on course. But I swear, I have had enough new characters now.
‘No Lightfoot, but rather darkness visible’. The carpenter bee. Or, as I like to think of it: the John Carpenter Bee.
On p168. Book still smells. Have taken to leaving it outside at night. Something about owning a book that resists being read so strongly appeals.
I am not in my own garden. I am amazed that Scarce Swallowtails can actually fly. But they do. And here’s one.
Hit p100. Two really silly names. At least three candidates for condescendingly Dickensian martyr-woman of the month, a cut and paste Havisham, and a Vince Price villain. And the book still smells.
The moment in 1855 that Dickens stopped trying so hard with names; friends, I give you Mr Tite Barnacle. Wonder if he’s good or bad, eh readers?
This slightly smelly, over-priced-at-8-pounds second hand book is going on holiday. I know nothing about this book. At all. We’re one chapter in.
Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying listening to this - but the mental image keeps coming to me of Eno somewhere in the background pointing at aleatory chords on a chalkboard that the sunn o ))) chaps scramble to play. And some of those chords sound a bit too difficult.
It always upsets me to find copies of Flying Saucer Attack’s Beach Red Lullaby/Second Hour in the wild unloved, so I tend to pick them up.
This Coxcomb Prominent just played dead -for an hour- really going full method. (It is not dead, just to be absolutely clear)
My actual god. It’s taken five years of maintaining habitat, and getting shit for it… but look what just flew in.