it's raining again. perhaps you've read enough of my daylogs to know what i do when it rains. am i really that predictable? yes.


no lights are on inside, doors and windows open, sitting under the floodlights that illuminate the stairs outside my apartment. i don't want to be distracted by having to flip over an LP so i load up my five disc changer, Selected Ambient Works II, Bombscare EP, Young Team, and because we were talking about it in the Chatterbox earlier, ISDN. i sit outside, sipping my hot tea, munching on my dry toast, reading A Clockwork Orange.



Oh, it was gorgeosity and yumyumyum. When it came to the Scherzo I could viddy myself very clear running and running on like very light and mysterious nogas, carving the whole litso of the creeching world with my cut-throat britva. And there was the slow movement and the lovely last singing movement still to come. I was cured all right.


i read this right as the counter hits 2:26. two minutes and twenty-six seconds into Bombscare, one of the most beautiful things i've ever heard.

i'm stopped dead in my tracks. unable to speak, to move, was i even breathing? unable to do anything but listen, experience and stare up into the night sky, full of wonder and amazement.

raindrops commit suicide on the pavement.

i wish i had someone to share these nights with, but would they be so poignant were i not alone?

there's a node about that somewhere...

i finish up clockwork orange and move on to Moby Dick but my heart just isn't in it. i decide to treat myself. i break out that $50 bottle of Chianti, light up that $15 cigar, unscrew the floodlights and sit outside in the dark.

by now the music becomes a little like a perpetual diary

i watch the world wobble though the heat coming off the tip of the cigar. the longing for someone is as present as ever. i tell myself i'm happy alone, as i so often do, but for the first time cody, you just might be telling the truth.