vertical graphic
 

small white square Vestiges of yesterday's hail persisted throughout the day, in shady corners, looking for all the world like snow.

small violet square The thing I'd never realized until yesterday is Mitch Mitchell's drums go backwards in the middle bridge of "Are You Experienced?", adding to that section's "freaky" sound. I recall when Jimi was new, like the first time I ever heard "Purple Haze", it was disorienting - a sound so different I couldn't quite handle it - took a couple hearings before I could recognize the song, and this from a guy who'd been following the new tunes intently for almost a year. I remember the same sensation with the Doors' "Light My Fire". That was this time of year in 1967 - I was just ending seventh grade, my first year in the new school, what was then called Junior High. The first season of Star Trek was also ending.

small diamond graphic
 

small cyan square From McTeague, chapter 20:

Occasionally the stamp mill stopped, its thunder ceasing abruptly. Then one could hear the noises that the mountains made in their living. From the canyon, from the crowding crests, from the whole immense landscape, there rose a steady and prolonged sound, coming from all sides at once. It was that incessant and muffled roar which disengages itself from all vast bodies, from oceans, from cities, from forests, from sleeping armies, and which is like the breathing of an infinitely great monster, alive, palpitating. <1>

small yellow square From Blood Meridian, chapter IX:

They rode all day uopn a pale gastine sparsely grown with saltbrush and panicgrass. In the evening they entrained upon a hollow ground that rang so roundly under the horses' hooves that they stepped and sidled and rolled their eyes like circus animals and that night as they lay in that ground each heard, all heard, the dull boom of rock falling somewhere far below them in the awful darkness inside the world. <2>

small orange square "Each of us is born unique but many die as copies."

Index          
<<Previous | Next>>
Email to jrasch@mailcity.com Home         

<1>by Frank Norris, 1899 Back

<2>by Cormac McCarthy, 1985 Back