So Richie Havens died today. When I was living in Ithaca during college, I had a record on Vinyl “Richie Havens On Stage” which apparently they never converted to CD, so you can’t find it on the internet. I played that record while making my weekly stash of chili. I always thought this was an exceptional song, but the studio version sucked. So I recorded this straight from my record player, and it’s the only place on the internet you’ll find it I suspect.
I fucking love this shit
I wrote the score for this little guy!
HEY HEY, so I’ve been working on this raunchy feature film about badminton. We’re trying to raise money so we can make it epic. you should check this out…
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/chriscatch/the-cocks-of-the-walk
New York is a cemetery in process
each street
each room
each building
each park
is just an empty plot of space
waiting for a name
for someone to come and fuck the world right well
in that spot
leave a ringing in the ears that lasts for weeks
to pass through and die
so that a stone may erect and say
“Someone who fucked me right was here”
Someone Boulevard
Someone Plaza
Someone Chair where I’m sitting now
trying to eat on this epitaph
and watch a baseball game
in the third inning.
.
The city is only half full
of people I know.
My life is a process of replacing strangers
with street names.
My love for Angel Olsen just grows and grows. (Video via this nice conversation between her and Laura Snapes over at Pitchfork. “Back off my womb”!)
Fuck yeah. My favorite girl shot this shit.
Finds handy book on removing oil stains from flannel.
nice.
