A couple of people asked yesterday about the Iron & Wine song I quoted, "Woman King." You can download "Woman King" free here.
I suspect fans of, say, Bare Trees era Fleetwood Mac, Fairport Convention, Peter Mulvey, Pentangle, Boiled in Lead, Steeleye Span, and Robin Williamson will find it as earwormtastic as I do. His stuff is hypnotic and rhythmic, hushed without losing urgency, with instrumental intricacies and really interesting lyrics delivered in a reedy tenor. The guitar line on "Evening on the Ground" sucks me in and drags me around in a manner much reminiscent of the effect (though not the sound) of Mississippi John Hurt or the better Blues Traveller songs.
Some other free Iron & Wine downloads here, at Sub Pop Records.
Yet another fine musician discovered via the auspices of Radio Paradise.
Reasons why I love my job #276: I'm sitting here trying to figure out whether moreau shock troops would be effective against a shoggoth main battle group, and what the moreau would need to do the job properly.
I guess the reborn All the Windwracked Stars is gonna get written one of these days after all.
Progress notes for 12 October 2005:
"The Inevitable Heat Death of the Universe"
New Words: 918
Total Words: 1544 / 1750
Reason for stopping: Draft
Mammalian Assistance: Marlowe gave me back for a while.
Stimulants: Republic of Tea's pomegranate green tea is pretty good.
Exercise: *whistles and looks innocent* I've been tired enough--post-novel ennui--that the only thing I feel up to is walking, and the universe has been conspiring against any of that.
Today's words Word don't know: entropic, bungee, unbeating
Words I'm surprised Word do know: thermodynamic
Tyop du jour: n/a
Darling du jour: n/a
Books in progress, but not at all quickly: Ladislas Farago, The Game of the Foxes; The Adams-Jefferson Letters;
Mean things: Entropy always wins.
Other writing-related work: n/a
Interesting tidbits: via Emerald City, Lyda Morehouse
Bat-winged, flame-eyed, and possessed of an unearthly, perfect beauty: the Daughters of Lilith, the Succubi, invade the dreams of men and lie with them in rapturous, unholy sexual union. The scent of their skin is bittersweet, dusky and terminally seductive. Mimosa, orange blossom, neroli and bergamot with a drop of sweet clove.
Vial: Oranges, oranges, oranges--bitter and sweet. And something musty, like undusted corners.
Wet: at first I smelled like I'd spilled a shot glass of Cointreau down my shirt, but that faded after the first breath. Now it's dustiness with occasional sweet notes.
Drydown: The dust backs off, thankfully, letting more traces of orange shine through. I feel like I should be hoovering, nonetheless. And then there's musk, which is becoming overpowering. Alas.