yesterday horsemouth had a nice day hanging round the house doing fuck all and feeling reasonably healthy. (loving the sunshine).
horsemouth listened to sun in aquarius by pharoah sanders (recorded 20th october 1969) which manages to unite free improv skronk with soul jazz (and inspire larks tongues in aspic allegedly).
he also listened to musicians of bremen volume three - which he hasn't done in a while - it stands up remarkably well he feels. there are of course always things you would do differently if you had your time again (but not too many) and conversely there are always pleasant little surprises where it all comes together in a way you didn't expect, the ukulele fanfare at the start of her hair like some glistening gold, the whole of Serpent(S) and on the banks of the susquenhanna (thanks howard).
horsemouth: 'his hideous howl a dirge of death'.
of course he is having his time again because what he is listening to is a recording. meanwhile the 'current' beastie volume four is out in the world building horsemouth and howard's reputations.
only love can break your heart and oh dear lots of people are getting it in the chest right about now. horsemouth has not been out dancing (as it were) in a while (his cowardice has saved him). horsemouth has been staying in (as you know) trying not to die, trying not to let the fucking government kill him.
horsemouth contemplates a gig in february. hell he contemplates triple negative playing cafe OTO at the weekend.
today the weather looks shit. last night more of the crimson bat and a documentary on the attempt to storm the capitol. now that was a strange moment (can you believe that actually happened?). what the cops (and the demonstrators) did not do, in a consistent fashion, was pull out their guns and start blasting. instead we have a riot. people are beaten half to death (and then they are handed back over to their team).
afterwards. post traumatic stress, suicides, recoveries.
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