• August 22nd

    22. Aug. 2012, 9:28

    the stupid need, the foolish desire to record thoughts somewhere, everywhere, to rescue the hollow moment, in any childish way possible.

    At work & listening to :
    Etude I: Etude V
  • February 18th

    17. Feb. 2012, 21:26

    با «زد-بازی» بغض نکرده بودیم که امشب اونم کردیم

  • June 20th

    19. Jun. 2011, 23:36

    Happy birthday Nick Drake !
    Words can't describe how great your are.
    I'm glad your sorrow didn't give anyone enough time to critic you with their nonesense.
  • June 9th

    9. Jun. 2011, 18:59

    خیلی‌ها سبک مینی‌مال کار می‌کنند، قطعه‌های کوچک یا خیلی‌کوچک تکرارشونده را پشت هم می‌چینند، قطار می‌کنند، آلبوم می‌دهند بیرون. ولی هیچ‌کدام برای من فیلیپ‌گلس نمی‌شوند، بپرسی هم دقیقن نمی‌توانم بگویم که چرا. آن‌جا صرفن تکرار هست انگار ، نه چیز بیشتری.
    توی آهنگ‌های گلس، یک چیز دیگری هم هست. فرق‌ هر قطعه‌ی تکرارشونده با قطعه‌ی مشابه بعدی‌اش، مثل فرق امروز با فرداست، دیروز با امروز. احتمالن خیلی شبیه ولی در گرو قبلی، نه مستقل از آن. تکراری اما نه همان. این‌طور هم نیست که چیزی مضاف بر قبلی داشته باشد. فقط همین که قبلی را باید گذرانده/شنیده باشی تا بعدی حتا اگر همان بود، برایت معنای تکرار محض نباشد

  • February 13th

    13. Feb. 2011, 0:29

    This album : Songs & Poems For Solo Cello
    is driving me crazy !

    Damn you Philip Glass !
  • October 29th

    29. Okt. 2010, 12:03

    I can't stop myself from listening to this track, since last night.
    It's so damn close. And minimal. Just like someone I've never talked to is saying what I truly MEAN inside. Ain't it amazing ?

    In a Manner of Speaking
  • October 8th

    8. Okt. 2010, 20:10

    Been away for too long.
    Music, once again, was a lifesaver.
    In the hardest days I could ever imagine.

    The last track scrobbled here, that Saturday evening.
    Como Un Pájaro Libre : Like A Free Bird

    Ironic, huh ?
  • May 6th

    6. Mai. 2010, 9:59

    "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
    To the last syllable of recorded time;
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle !
    Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
    And then is heard no more. It is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing."

    — William Shakespeare (Macbeth)

    Song for Eli
  • May 1st

    1. Mai. 2010, 22:01

    "I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full."
    — Sylvia Plath

    Sheykh Shangar
  • April 28th

    28. Apr. 2010, 13:16

    تو نیستی
    این باران بیهوده می‌بارد
    ما خیس نخواهیم شد

    Mister K.