The Subtle, if you pay attention
As I've been going through junk to toss and not haul into a nice (CLEAN!) house, I've found some crazy curious items that I've twirled in my fingers with the oooooo of seeing a fake Santa and wondering if it's worth my time to take that photo. Of course it is, fake Santa knows I know, just like the found items suspect I know as well. Not a single one has had an attitude about being forgotten, but I've heard a couple of cries from those who didn't make the cut. It hurt. I collect shit like a fiend for a reason, I feel I'm being an asshole to just disregard a tenant and bounce them to the curb for no good reason. I've been bounced, it's a deflating why me moment.
My most recent find was a home burned CD called Crowded Emptiness, one of the most excellent titles Mr. Morgan has penned because it contradicts itself to a point of glee my head just dances to. What is remarkable about this CD is the progression of obvious inebriation.
It begins with jammable songs, little bit of Pepper, some Sublime, then drifts to Ben Harper and it takes an abrupt sharp turn. Someone clearly began to get high. The songs wrap into joyous "fuck the man, let's burn one!" and transgress straight into Hendrix and Joplin in a nosedive, leading to Van Morrison and before you know it, the world is an angry, depressing sweat sock from the grunty muscle guy at the gym whose over chiseled yuck are a reflection of his brain and certification that the only thing left to do on earth is to sit and think about cereal.
I laughed and gave a hearty nod to this compilation - wasn't my work - and followed the inner thinkings as a treasured timeline with the most respected entertainment. Mr. Morgan wouldn't even understand it, I saw it as though it was written on the wall. Here's a fun video of how the come down had always been for me. I don't partake, and when I did... I may well have seen shit like a rabbit chasing a carrot and frankly no one wants that sort of high bitch at the party. Buzzkill Jane becomes an instant moniker. Point being this CD is priceless is how happy it starts and ends in somber ice cream seeking.
Ever been really high but aware enough that someone else has their sight on that very ice cream your soul was camping on? Ya.
- DM
My most recent find was a home burned CD called Crowded Emptiness, one of the most excellent titles Mr. Morgan has penned because it contradicts itself to a point of glee my head just dances to. What is remarkable about this CD is the progression of obvious inebriation.
It begins with jammable songs, little bit of Pepper, some Sublime, then drifts to Ben Harper and it takes an abrupt sharp turn. Someone clearly began to get high. The songs wrap into joyous "fuck the man, let's burn one!" and transgress straight into Hendrix and Joplin in a nosedive, leading to Van Morrison and before you know it, the world is an angry, depressing sweat sock from the grunty muscle guy at the gym whose over chiseled yuck are a reflection of his brain and certification that the only thing left to do on earth is to sit and think about cereal.
I laughed and gave a hearty nod to this compilation - wasn't my work - and followed the inner thinkings as a treasured timeline with the most respected entertainment. Mr. Morgan wouldn't even understand it, I saw it as though it was written on the wall. Here's a fun video of how the come down had always been for me. I don't partake, and when I did... I may well have seen shit like a rabbit chasing a carrot and frankly no one wants that sort of high bitch at the party. Buzzkill Jane becomes an instant moniker. Point being this CD is priceless is how happy it starts and ends in somber ice cream seeking.
Ever been really high but aware enough that someone else has their sight on that very ice cream your soul was camping on? Ya.
- DM
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
7:08 PM
1 Comments:
Good song! I also like Amie Mann's cover.
Crowded Emptiness is an awesome CD title, lol.
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