"I am an empty house longing to be haunted." - Darren Bauler.
Beautiful, man. Just fucking beautiful.
Nails a feeling that's chasing my ass right now.
I'm here, laying down by the imaginary stream inside my head, listening to James Toth's "Ballad of Squeaky Wheels" - remembering why he's one of a handful of the best songwriters around right now (his demos piss on your overproduced campfire hisssss, boutique-label boys...) and D's phrase just nails that tone - that catch - in James' voice perfectly, as if he's sing-talkinging along to the CD-r; an overdubbed talk-over across impossible distances.
Quantum-entanglement of the soul.
The wind in the trees, the chill in my bones. Dogs barking somewhere in the distance.
The damp smell of leaves, prefacing the onset of autumn.