Steve Kilbey-- The Hall of Counterfeits

Had a nightmare yesterday,

the  kind that woke me up because I was trying to talk in my sleep and my talking or rather wordless emoting woke me.

I have a fever. Sittng upstairs where it's naturally hot because the insulation is non-existent and no matter how I tried to stay insulated the past year and a half there's never enough insulation.

And I have to laugh,  

because they're excited for us all to give up

our remote lives and get back to hashtag

#OfficeLife

as if sitting in the office twelve hours a day is life.

99. 101. 100. 100.2

The pendulum swings notfrom side to side but up and down.

I don't know if I have the thing or not.

But two people close to me got tested and do and so did a third person, too.  

I thought leaving L.A. and moving to the mountains would provide a buffer

but the notion of isolation turned out to be a failure

but not an Afghanistan-sized failure because that magnitude only comes along once in a generation.

Most of America's fuckups are big but not colossal and even earthquakes aren't that unforgiving.

Images of Afghans floating in the air.

Breakthroughs and variants and swirling waves

Turn off Sadness And Anger TV, boy

And take your CBD.  

A friend who is a genius and scientist and nutritionist instructed me to take

an Elvis-load of vitamins every day, just as he did for my brother (who recovered)  and brother-in-law who had it last year and recovered  and a work friend who had it two weeks ago and recovered and everyone else who needs it which is everyone because we are all broken.

And there's beauty in that.

Which leads me to me Steve Kilbey & The Winged Heels album review.

Hall of Counterfeits.

Parts are dark, leading parts of me

to ancient places I do not want to go

right now.

Yet I still feel my way with fear down the hill, even still.

I will fear no evil when Kilbey art with me.

That is my review, Steve. Sorry it's not better but it's all I can muster ad it's wrapped up in a fever dream, hot and pulsating.

Stand out tracks: "Arcadia,"  "Horizon Meets The Ground," "Anglesea," "More or Less." Oh and "Everything's for Sale," which comes out of the blue like a bit of bouncy melodic hand-clapping happiness, "I shall not want," which is mantra like. "Tantric Hammer,' channels vintage Church.  Really, I think the entire album is amazing but each new song keeps getting better as you progress. I know it's a hall, but it seems like a ladder.

Please God, let the music and your rod and your staff and

my dear departed mom's cross

hanging on the wall of the great room,

the one they forgot

to include in her casket,

only to become my talisman

comfort me a little while longer

and restore my mind body and soul

like Your word promises.

Amen.

While you're here (or while you hear) check my post about "Electric Lash," the Church song whose title I used as inspiration to create a story in my first book, the short story collection A-Sides & B-Sides. Also available on Nook and iBook. You might like it and I could use the 73 cents if you choose to buy it. Unless you are Steve Kilbey and I will send you a copy gratis as an offering.

*Spelling errors if any are unintentional and will be corrected at a later date.