Thursday, February 14, 2008

Lightning Bolt.  Dude.  Lightning Bolt.  Sometimes when I horrify myself by imagining alternate realities in which given important things did or did not happen, I think "What if I'd never needed to cover my ass by buying Lightning Bolt's entire back catalog after I told Aleks Prechtl I liked them a lot, when really I'd heard like 2 songs?"  If he'd never asked me that day, sweeping granola and peering at me over his glasses with the usual skepticism, I might never have drunk deep of them.  These motherfuckers who make creamed spinach of a stoner's sinuses.   These motherfuckers who hasten the apocalypse, who dare the black horsemen to advance!  All two of them.  All two members.  Plenty of true things are impossible, but that two dudes can produce such a malefic roiling churn still boggles, and here's the most fucked-up part: you can dance to it.  You can't not dance to it, in fact.  The "Wonderful Rainbow" album pistolwhips you about 125 ways in 40 minutes, and the opener, the (no it is) lovely "Hello Morning"?  Is what my rotting shark spleen of a soul would look like if you turned it inside out.  I know this because Lil' Copenhagen turns it inside out every day - IN BED.  Listen to Lightning Bolt.

A note regarding the (marvelous, marvelous!) jumping spider adored below, previously unnamed: it came to me today as we played (I mean it, this isn't creative writing), as I bumped him backwards three times with the tip of my index finger while saying "Poosh poosh!", after which he tends to do a backward diagonal zigzaggering jig, an immensely jolly experience. Anyway as I poosh-pooshed his UN-blue head, I realized that for duh's fucking sake, I've longed for years to name something Boutros Boutros, and never has a present from the fates arrived so prettily gift-wrapped!


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