Ive been listening to Tulumica and working on this paragraph from Cowachunga for the past half hour. Productive work or procrastination?
"The ridge that dominated Kyle’s view was achingly far - his feet just scraped the surface as they planted themselves in a semi-straight line. He was a clutter of bones, just that, moving achingly forward along an unspeakably hard pitch. His body, like so many animals before on the ceaseless horizon, would become a mass of proteins to satiate some leather-skinned vulture’s hard belly, give impetus to that eternal instinct to scan the horizon, circling endlessly."
"The ridge that dominated Kyle’s view was achingly far - his feet just scraped the surface as they planted themselves in a semi-straight line. He was a clutter of bones, just that, moving achingly forward along an unspeakably hard pitch. His body, like so many animals before on the ceaseless horizon, would become a mass of proteins to satiate some leather-skinned vulture’s hard belly, give impetus to that eternal instinct to scan the horizon, circling endlessly."
Meanwhile I recorded this solo joint at the Hostel Cat in Vegas the other night. Improv hints of Fleet Foxes "Mykonos", Rolling Stones "Miss You," Tom Waits "Johnsburg, Illinois," Neil Cassady behind the wheel, Carl Douglas "Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting." The flute spoken-word continuum just got real, fast as lightning.
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