Month: December 2012

Scorpio Rising

Posted by – 12/29/2012

scorp blacklight 3

Apologies for the lateness; I meant to post this back in November. Please enjoy this mercurial cold-weather mix for the fieriest of water signs.

Scorpio Rising

1. Dr. John – Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya
2. Lou Reed – Walk on the Wild Side
3. Jane Birkin – Kawasaki
4. Antena – Camino del Sol
5. Dusty Springfield – Spooky
6. Francoise Hardy – Le Premier Bonheur du Jour
7. Os Mutantes – Le Premier Bonheur du Jour
8. Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers – Egyptian Reggae
9. Docteur Nico & Orchestre African Fiesta – Pauline
10. Orchestre De La Paillotte – Kadia Blues
11. William Carlos Williams – This Is Just To Say / Jeff Buckley – Last Goodbye
12. Fleetwood Mac – Albatross
13. Galt MacDermot – Coffee Cold

This Comes Gently

Posted by – 12/22/2012

Wilson Bentley Snow Crystals

NYC had a wee flurry of snow this afternoon, just in time for the advent of winter. Speaking of, Angeliska posted about all things solstice and included this weirdo gem of an article, detailing the role of psychedelic mushrooms in the origin of Santa Claus. If you have never considered drinking reindeer urine before, you may after reading this.

Title quote from William Carlos Williams’ “The Snow Begins” & early 20th century snow crystal photos by Wilson Bentley

Roy G. Biv

Posted by – 12/08/2012

Sebastien Preschoux, Color Theory


Peter Erskine, Spectrum of Time




Artist unknown. Appreciate an I.D.


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This sickness, to express oneself. What is it?

Posted by – 12/07/2012

Lately, I’ve been enjoying the Paris Review archives. Favorite interviews include:

The otherworldly Jean Cocteau (quoted in this post’s title).
Besuited weirdo William Burroughs offers real talk during his Cut-Up period.
Tomboy baroness Isak Dinesen on old world nostalgia and running an African coffee plantation.
Brooklyn’s satyr Henry Miller is Henry Miller.
William Carlos Williams makes you wish he was your grandpa.
First there was Henry Green and then there was Downton Abbey.
Dorothy Parker is clever forever.
A rather severe Vladimir Nabokov reflecting on post-Lolita fame.
Ralph Ellison deftly handles a prickish interviewer.
William Faulkner is far more interesting than his books.