Luciana and I spread boundless, oceans of braided wildwood. I said our adventure and she yes, brought things that said she wanted to agree. A patterned dress, a pound of sliced meat, a thin bra that turned her the pearlescence of a shell. We slipped into the hive some lustrous word, carving wooden houses, translating each other into texture and light.
“All the things I used to count on to get my music out there — record companies, they’re all gone. And radio stations, they’re gone — they’re completely controlled by the government. If they’re not controlled by the government, they’re controlled by a programmer who’s controlled by the government. Mainstream radio is suspect. You can’t trust it. It’s not gonna play what it wants to play because it doesn’t know what it wants, because it doesn’t think — it’s not paid to think, it’s paid not to think, to just do.”
Neil Young