Anodyne
Friday, September 16, 2016
 
"Coquitlam SAR members responded to search for a missing elderly female in the area of the Burnaby Mountain Golf Course. The SAR team was stood down when the subject was located eating dinner in a nearby restaurant."
Thursday, September 15, 2016
 

 

Tuesday, September 13, 2016
 
Handwritten on the side of somebody's coffee cup at the till: "Ex - HOT."

#howidprefertoberemembered
Monday, September 12, 2016
 

Sunday, September 11, 2016
 

Mr. Blue
Words & music by John Phillips

Meet Mr. Blue, elegant Jew, of New York City
Ex-real estate man, sits on the can, always looks pretty
And Miss Never-Say-Please, pink and white knees, his favorite kitty
Movie star queen, fell off the screen, oh, what a pity

Diamonds and things, shiners and dings, you powder-puff whore
And a backgammon king having a fling behind locked doors
It's just a sleepy-time binge, disposable syringe, there's never no more
With pin-ups and thugs, dealers and drugs, escaping the boys

Straighten your hair, powder your nose, little junkettes
Look down on the street, nobody knows about you yet
But you're pink as the rose pinned to your clothes, how I'd regret
Should your show come to a close as a vignette

Meet Mr. Blue

Shooting stars, they have fallen all around you
Where it is they all fall to, no one knows
Pretty soon I'm gonna shoot myself up with you
Just to find out where it is that you go.

[Mr. Blue obviously right at home with any of W & D's losers; Miss Never-Say-Please as Peg]
 
"[A]lbums that put the tattered decadence and artistic foundering of legendary songwriters on full display: Leonard Cohen’s Death of a Ladies Man, Gene Clark’s No Other, and Nilsson’s own Pussy Cats. Almost despite themselves, each of these flamboyantly overproduced extravaganzas has a irreducible core of sadness, making the overkill layers of backing vocals and horn sections, and session pros jamming, shimmer with an evocative poignancy even when in a conventional sense, they kind of suck. Listeners get to vicariously experience the thrill of heedlessly burning through entertainment industry money, and recklessly destroying brain cells with substance abuse in the futile process of searching for a creative spark.

It’s a very specific sort of emotional vibe—luxury-line desperation—but if you’ve acquired a taste for it, it can make for sublime listening."



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