misty canyon.

October 12, 2011

You know what? Fuck everything. That’s kind of how I’ve been feeling the past few days. It helps my process as an “artist”. Why you ask? Because fuck everything, that’s why. Fuck if that line’s going to go where it’s supposed to, fuck if I’m going to change the album I’ve been listening to for the past two hours, and fuck if I’m going to finish this pot of tea in a reasonable amount of time.

But why Misty Canyon?  You may be asking yourself (or maybe not)~ in the same vain as my last post– it’s still Rainy Season, I’m still fortunate enough to be living a perpetual Miles Davis Sunday, and life is fucking awesome. Still though- Misty Canyon? What the fuck does that even mean? Well dear person who has seen my stream of consciousness this far: let me tall you about an Australian/Norwegian dude named Sven Libaek. He’s basically the baddest mothershutchomouth since Shaft. I really dig ambient 60’s/70’s impressionist Jazz. (Normal people would call it Elevator Music.) Don’t care. Love it. Lush string sections, vibraphones, harpsichord– if you’re lucky. Sven Libaek is like the king of the impressionist scene.

Have you ever pictured yourself, circa ’65, sipping brandy out of an antique snifter in your chic, chill toned bachelor pad while watching people shuffle below under dim city streetlight? That’s Sven Libaek.

Misty Canyon’s been stuck in my head for days……and I fucking love it.

Also, Inner Space with V.O. from William Shatner. (Totally fucking sexcellent.)

(f bomb count: 9.)

(This has been a post.)



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