2004-04-02 - 9:05 a.m.
Imagine, if you will, (and you will) that you are wearing an enormous ball gown. It matters not what sex you are, this is for some marginal aesthetic visualisation of a feeling. read on. You are "set" in Jelly (jello) A huge swimming pool of jello (jelly) (note how politically sound I am by "parenthatatising" the different international spelling in both cases of that fun liquid) (inserts random quote:"Pnumetic Poly Alloy - LIQUID METAL") Personally I picture an orange colored stuff but you can choose your color, its the texture I am trying to make crucial to my explanation that is still bemusing you. You are only set breast high (grrrrr) so your arms are free and thankfully you can breathe. Now try to walk across the length of the pool.
THAT is just how damn ""PHAT"" Amon Tobins new album Out From Out Where is. I blasted it so loud this morning that I was worried about it cancelling itself out in my headphones from the reverberation off my inner ears. Its not for the light hearted. Beats so heavy you need a forklift to get them in your ipod. Assuming you have one. And if you do not. GO AND GET ONE. Bass lines that need a train engine to push out of your speakers.
It has set my tone for the day. Yes, I am still a waif-like, soppy, duck print flanel pyjama wearing hug intensive bastard, as my diary often alludes to, but for the most part, I am a hard, chilled out, cool dude. Today. I hope it lasts, this evening holds many mystical omens of goodness. The Blind Tiger will play host to a gathering of souls this very "eve" (thats an in joke) I'm excited. AND 'Im still vomiting sickening amounts of love for my Delicious from events that will remain nameless. Which really totally nullifies itself as a statement because CLEARLY I am talking about the wonders of nerve ending enhancement through careful placement of electronic pulses fed from our delicate digits and other appendages.
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