Rusted out license plate meet jaw harp from the mountains of Mindanao. Weathered metal meet weathered wood. Make a sound. A death rattle or maybe the only kind of life that can persist in scarce times.
The face blacked out. The coconut cap on the honky tonk piano. Music without much ego intruding. Could it be you?
100 years. Still locked in an embrace with magic/faulty logic. Still can't finish this book.
Taintradio meet Fabric. Appreciating the sheer diversity of jazz, I could never get behind the mask. There is no mask with real music. Only instinct not to piggyback on the livelihood and territory of others.
Boracay closuredriftwood meet Vancouver candy skulls. Melting from from mere exposure to air, cold Pacific blast.