strangers around the corner, neil young, dylan, creaks in the stairs, flannery o'connor, okkervil river, gram parsons, townes van zandt, Guinness Stout, otis redding, leonard cohen, nick drake, john steinbeck, clouds resembling the truth, brian eno, william faulkner, pavement, pixies, sylvia plath, love, ryan adams, whiskey and water, bob wills and the Texas playboys, tom waits, john prine, woody guthrie, Camel Lights, eagles, the bible, daniel johnston, charles bukowski, counting crows, the beatles, wilco, the doors, my bloody valetine, broken social scene, ranier maria rilke, the shins, flying burrito brothers, j.d. salinger, the smiths, son volt, pablo neruda, the decemberists, iron and wine, whiskeytown, the man in black, the red headed stranger, sonic youth, god speed you black emperor, the strokes, sigur ros, stereolab, velvet underground, uncle tupelo, dropkick murphys, kings of leon, ramones, the byrds, russian lit, spanish musings... and coffee-cheap-cold-fresh-stale-scalding hot-doesn't fucking matter as long as it's not decaf-coffee.
We have taken it into our heads that to write a poem simply for the poem's sake [...] and to acknowledge such to have been our design, would be to confess ourselves radically wanting in the true poetic dignity and force: — but the simple fact is that would we but permit ourselves to look into our own souls we should immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified, more supremely noble, than this very poem, this poem per se, this poem which is a poem and nothing more, this poem written solely for the poem's sake. - Edgar Allen Poe
you know. i got away for a day. i listen to these songsa and realize how happy i am that i really enjoy playing them. what blessings you are laughingstocks. thank you for the membership.
