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Beach combings of today:
I saw Josh Ritter today in concert, supporting the much less impressive, if I am honest, Ray LaMontagne, who sings in a series of exhalations. Perhaps just my mood (fierce and high blooded, for no specific reason), but I wanted something fast and loud and truthful feeling.
Ray LaMontagne is, perhaps, for lovers, and I wanted music to destroy televisions in anonymous hotel rooms to.

A drunk man pinched my bottom as his wife looked on, and I am – unconnectedly except in this sentence – mulling over ideas for two short pieces, one about concert hall goers, and the other one a parallel poem/prose piece combining country music sentiments, slam poetry aesthetics, and what it means to be eaten by horses. Cheery. But necessary. I wrote a terrible poem about the effects of an owner’s madness on horses, and it needs reworked.

Another rather lovely discovery of today were Marmaduke duke, a Biffy Clro frontman sideproject. I am in love with the lyric ‘funky on the way home’, and am now going to try to be funky on the way home more often. I am also, who are we kidding, in love with his voice. Biffy Clyro’s early music is filled with achy teenage awkwardness for me, so enjoying him in a slightly less pained vein is pretty nifty. *For even more wonderfulness, see their cover of Beyonce’s ‘Single ladies’. Was ever a cover so brilliantly disconcerting? I think not.

And for those who are curious, the title of this post is from JJ. Cale’s ‘After Midnight’, a song which is so sexy, it makes your ears giggle and blush as if they are being seduced by lazy southern sunsets, the slip of rum down long throats, and that faint sheen on the upper lip which, half-cut and sleepy, looks utterly perfect. Enjoy.

Over and oot.