Texas may indeed be too big for its britches [Rick Perry needs to just be voted off the planet already. And for the love of all things sane, don't even get me started on Mitt Romney]. I'd rather just throw everything up in the air and move but I'll settle for a mini respite instead. Headed to the beach today with a favorite travel buddy and a 40 song mixed cd I made yesterday to boot.
In my neck of the woods, mid October is the perfect time for the beach. Mild balmy temperatures in the high 80F days to low 70F nights so welcome after the fucking hell vader's breath shit heat of the summer. I think that's low 30C to low 20C for you across the pond. Bonus: all those surbanites are tucked in tight in their weird Hitchcockian nests far far away so stars willing we'll have nothing but wind and waves for company.
Craving and dreaming of walking as far as we dare into those warm salty waves. Seagulls sing-song begging above us eager for the tasty treats we'll eat and not share, as we meander tirelessly down the smooth sticky coast sharing our stories; relishing in the sweet sweet solitude of us, the waves, the fickle wind as it whispers with a smooth caress come sunset. And always my favorite grace, that blissful bright moon floating peacefully above the inky black abyss as She sparkles with Her smile at the hazy orange lights of those oily Gulf rigs hovering in the distance.
Alone and at peace.
Mac DeMarco and this song in particular are MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE right now. Sultry vocals, hypnotic, happy beats reminiscent of something so perfectly postmodern I can't quite put my finger on. Is it Springsteen? Is it that ching changy chime so popular of late? Whatever its intoxicating power is, it fits my current restless lonely wild animal lusty nostalgic mood. If only we were just headed to California instead of just this much needed mini roadtrip beachy chat wine fest. Maybe I can convince my wonderful travel buddy to just Thelma & Louise book it and never look back...
F-BOOK /// BANDCAMP