sfdeep

so i tried to update the other night and somehow it just erased everything so i'm giving it another try tonight.

i just moved my entire record collection into a new shelving unit i had made for them. my discovery: i have too many fucking records. it would be one thing if they were all amazing, brilliant, record-collector masturbation material. but i'm afraid there's a good portion that time has not been too kind to, and others that simply suck -- the kind of record that makes me wonder what the fuck i was thinking when i bought it. i guess when i first started dj'ing i just wanted records to spin. i'm happy to say i'm a lot more particular in my record selections these days.

i also went through a lot of my book collection as well. i have urges to sell a lot of them but it's hard to get rid of a good novel -- i'd rather pass them off to a friend. so i'm just going to put some into storage until i can get a proper book shelf.

i did find some books i had forgotten i owned: Charles Bukowski's "Tales of Ordinary Madness," Alan Sillitoe's "Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner," J.D. Salinger's "Nine Stories," and a collection of French Symbolist poetry. it's interesting that this is so different from what i read now -- mainly sci-fi and philosophy. but i'm about to start "Requiem for a Dream" by Hubert Selby, Jr. on Naiad's recommendation.

after flipping through the Symbolist poetry book, i thought i'd show one of my favorites:

Moonlight by Paul Verlaine

Your soul is like a painter's landscape where
charming masks in shepherd mummeries
are playing lutes and dancing in the air
of being sad in their fantastic guise

Even while they sing, all in a minor key,
of love triumphant and life's careless boon,
they seem in doubt of their felicity,
their song melts in the calm light of the moon,

the lovely melancholy light that sets
the little birds to dreaming in the tree
and among the statues makes the jets
of slender fountains sob with ecstasy.