"Does Gnosticism even exist?" (via ALDaily)


goblin woodwind · abatis
flush · window indigo swirl
pools forlorn · addict twinkling

kilo anchovy · adorn
rat abstains · rasta stigma
witch tsunami off · cloud flung


"We motored down-town, to arrive where a doorman in a convict dress, black-and-white stripes, ushered us into a crowded, smoky pandemonium. The name of this joint was Cell Block 7. There was no dancing, no food, no cabaret. People sat at small tables, closely packed, drinking beer or the liquor they had brought with them, and shouting at one another through the din. This was created, unceasingly while we were there, by a jazz band--the Cell Block 7 boys--who were also wearing convicts' clothes, with battered black bowlers on the backs of their heads. Now and again, one of them would clutch the microphone and bellow incomprehensible lyrics into it; but most of the time they simply banged away at the piano and drums, blasted away in a frenzy through trumpet, trombone, saxophone, until the deafened customers rose at them with applause and shouts. ...that smoky hot room shuddered with sound. It was like being in a brass foundry adrift in a hurricane. ...this, I was told, was one of the favourite night spots of the young in Dallas." --J B Pri*stl*y in: Pri*stl*y & Jacqu*tta Hawk*s, Journ*y down a Rainbow (1955)


Stairways. (via M*tafilt*r)