An incidental scan of my itunes music playlist belches out a few lines of Neil Young. An image forms of the cracked acrylic cassette case, frosted from floor board sand and southern California dashboard sun, an iconic man-guitar- desert photo on its face. The connections between the sounds and the tactile sensations, industrious like little carpenters with hammers of ether go to work on my recall. I'm left to marvel the strange contours of memories architecture, a house made of clouds.
abrupt skits, painful theatre, improv of the absurd
Friday, March 19, 2010
More than a decade ago
An incidental scan of my itunes music playlist belches out a few lines of Neil Young. An image forms of the cracked acrylic cassette case, frosted from floor board sand and southern California dashboard sun, an iconic man-guitar- desert photo on its face. The connections between the sounds and the tactile sensations, industrious like little carpenters with hammers of ether go to work on my recall. I'm left to marvel the strange contours of memories architecture, a house made of clouds.
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About Me
- Russell Maycumber
- St. Augustine, Florida, United States
- I spill ink ,it collects here.
1 comment:
Like Richard Morgans descriptions of Martian space craft in his Future Noir Takeshi Kovacs thrillers.
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