07-03-2022, 05:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-13-2022, 02:39 PM by Dekalb_Blues.)
SUNNILY LAZING HIGH IN THE SKY ABOVE HELL'S KITCHEN
OR, EVERYBODY'S GOTTA BE SOMEWHERE EVEN IF IT'S NOW-HERE
Also: The Lolling Question's Sartorial Aspect Touched Upon In Passing
^ Chanced upon this harmlessly-pleasant noodling-around-on-the-piano jazz en route to the Good Stuff* -- and hey! the fellow who rigged this vid used a pix showing the view downtown around sunrise from pretty-near my very floor and westwardly position in the high-rise on W. 41st St. I perch in when I'm not haunting my Deep Underground Bond-Villain Bunker in my own remote jungly island off the tip of Long g'Island or stopping at my rustic pied-à-terre in the rolling foothills of Penn's Woods. You can see the wedge-topped 30 Hudson Yards, and the iconic Empire State Bldg. on the right (minus any giant rampaging gorilla), and in the gloriously Turneresque distance the East River, dockside Brooklyn, and the Upper Bay, where mutant monster-fish are (even as we speak!) rapidly evolving the prehensile-handed freakish limbs required to rampage aloft on the nearby zephyr-kissed aeries they are so jealous of, immured as they are in their dank subaqueous prison. This is my accustomed 3rd-density view whilst contemplating the One Undifferentiated Intelligent Infinity, unpolarized, full and whole, etc., and what-not.
^ William Turner, The Scarlet Sunset, c.1830-40
^ Recent pix of me at home at the Long John Silverstein Towers, contemplating the One Undifferentiated Intelligent Infinity, unpolarized, full and whole, as the Macrocosm of the Mystery-Clad Being.
Also, all this new-fangledness, too much of it just brick-'n'-mortar steel-beamed money-laundering schemes by the Usual Billionaire Suspects. These characters, for all their rapaciously acquisitive cunning, don't seem to have realized that perhaps any wealth piling up beyond what's required for underwriting one's reasonable wine/women/song-expenses is simply de trop, and should be philanthropically invested in the meritorious needy, minus any shady scheming to ultimately rule the world or vast chunks thereof.
^ William Turner, Sunrise with Sea Monsters, Oil on canvas, c.1845
Lyrics
Lyrics
Lyrics
* I.e., this album, of live recordings of a keyboard luminary's trio at the top of their game, made in a celebrated jazz club about 1.5 miles away in space from my abode and exactly 61 years and 1 week away in time: Bill Evans: Live at the Village Vanguard (1961)
...and if you forget, just virtue-signal "soulfulness" -- you'll fool your friends and amaze your neighbors!
"Imperfect action is better than perfect inaction."
“Always be sincere, even if you don't mean it.”
— Harry S Truman
"The problem of what to wear while lolling about the house on a hot Sunday afternoon is becoming more and more acute as the fashions in lolling garments change. The American home is in danger of taking on the appearance of an Oriental bordello."
— Robert S. Benchley, My Ten Years in a Quandary and How They Grew, 1936, "What to Loll In"
OR, EVERYBODY'S GOTTA BE SOMEWHERE EVEN IF IT'S NOW-HERE
Also: The Lolling Question's Sartorial Aspect Touched Upon In Passing
^ Chanced upon this harmlessly-pleasant noodling-around-on-the-piano jazz en route to the Good Stuff* -- and hey! the fellow who rigged this vid used a pix showing the view downtown around sunrise from pretty-near my very floor and westwardly position in the high-rise on W. 41st St. I perch in when I'm not haunting my Deep Underground Bond-Villain Bunker in my own remote jungly island off the tip of Long g'Island or stopping at my rustic pied-à-terre in the rolling foothills of Penn's Woods. You can see the wedge-topped 30 Hudson Yards, and the iconic Empire State Bldg. on the right (minus any giant rampaging gorilla), and in the gloriously Turneresque distance the East River, dockside Brooklyn, and the Upper Bay, where mutant monster-fish are (even as we speak!) rapidly evolving the prehensile-handed freakish limbs required to rampage aloft on the nearby zephyr-kissed aeries they are so jealous of, immured as they are in their dank subaqueous prison. This is my accustomed 3rd-density view whilst contemplating the One Undifferentiated Intelligent Infinity, unpolarized, full and whole, etc., and what-not.
^ William Turner, The Scarlet Sunset, c.1830-40
^ Recent pix of me at home at the Long John Silverstein Towers, contemplating the One Undifferentiated Intelligent Infinity, unpolarized, full and whole, as the Macrocosm of the Mystery-Clad Being.
Also, all this new-fangledness, too much of it just brick-'n'-mortar steel-beamed money-laundering schemes by the Usual Billionaire Suspects. These characters, for all their rapaciously acquisitive cunning, don't seem to have realized that perhaps any wealth piling up beyond what's required for underwriting one's reasonable wine/women/song-expenses is simply de trop, and should be philanthropically invested in the meritorious needy, minus any shady scheming to ultimately rule the world or vast chunks thereof.
^ William Turner, Sunrise with Sea Monsters, Oil on canvas, c.1845
Lyrics
Lyrics
Lyrics
* I.e., this album, of live recordings of a keyboard luminary's trio at the top of their game, made in a celebrated jazz club about 1.5 miles away in space from my abode and exactly 61 years and 1 week away in time: Bill Evans: Live at the Village Vanguard (1961)
...and if you forget, just virtue-signal "soulfulness" -- you'll fool your friends and amaze your neighbors!
"Imperfect action is better than perfect inaction."
“Always be sincere, even if you don't mean it.”
— Harry S Truman
"The problem of what to wear while lolling about the house on a hot Sunday afternoon is becoming more and more acute as the fashions in lolling garments change. The American home is in danger of taking on the appearance of an Oriental bordello."
— Robert S. Benchley, My Ten Years in a Quandary and How They Grew, 1936, "What to Loll In"