Hello Ghost town.
I’ve begun to Tumbl…
It’s mindless – nevertheless, feel free to stop by.
cB
Hello friends,
It has been one month since my last public posting. As many of you know I took to the road last month for a three week journey from Tennessee to Colorado down to Arizona and then on to New Mexico and back home. It has been just over a month since I left. I am currently writing you from Arizona. Much has depended upon the work I am doing from the road; when I move from place to place and things of sort. I am missing my home in Nashville and my fine family of friends there. They are all a blessing to me.
For those of you along the way that I haven’t had the chance to see – it’s not you, it’s me. It is impossible for me to be in touch with everyone and to take the time to meet up with you all, I would like to reconnect with the lot of you – however, this journey hasn’t been about that. If the next couple of years go according to some semblance of a plan I will have the chance to reconnect and visit with a good amount of you across the country – if fate sees fit that the record is released and I can tour the country with it; be it on a small or large scale.
Obvious to most, I have all but drifted away from the internet completely. If you have followed me for the last few years, on this blog or otherwise, you may know that I hold a love/hate relationship with the internet – mostly the social media aspect of it. I find it difficult to constantly update the masses on what I am doing from day to day. I find it to be a distraction from the lives that we should be living; which is, paying more direct attention to our families and those who actually care about us on a personal level – and finally, reflecting and dwelling on the bettering of self. I don’t share this as a griping rant. I share this to let you know where I am coming from, and how I have been living as of late.
As an artist striving to gain a platform with my art, music and otherwise, I completely understand the need to be in the public constantly; to keep the twitter ramblings rolling, the facebook peers happy and the blog updated. This is necessary lest the public forget you are still alive. It is of import so that by the time the album is released there is a healthy gaggle who actually care and can support you and your cause. I get all of this. Which, aside from the occasional need to share what is on my heart about this or that, is why I continue to have an online existence.
I do not know the direction I’ll take from here as to the frequency with which I will write a blog post or “update my status.” I can say that I greatly appreciate the interest that all of my readers and friends have taken in what I have to say from time to time. I continue to write privately, on a consistent basis, and hope to one day open the doors to share with all of you the more intriguing, introspective and thought-provoking of these writings. Be it in song, short-story or prose.
I have been absolutely awful at checking email, facebook mail, twitter replies, text messages, et-al. I know in 2010 it’s rude not to reply to all of the listed; so, with that mentality, I must apologize. I have yet to find a method to the madness that works for me. And even in opening these worlds I find it incredibly exhausting. I receive the most peace in taking care of the work at hand and focusing on bettering myself; if there is time after that I do try and respond to those outside of my direct circle of family and friends.
This isn’t a so-long-farewell rather a this-is-hows-come. If the road becomes smoother and the wind changes direction perhaps I will feel differently about this online world that we are all but forced to partake in. As for now, I continue to feel burdened and harassed by the obsession to be heard.
Avoiding the white noise,
Cory Basil
Thank you for taking the time to engage this letter.
Nashville, chances are you have yet to make plans for either this evening or the next. So with that being said I beseech you to make your way to Lipscomb University tonight to leave the modern age behind and step into a world of classic icons and partake in the delight that is the theatre stage.
I was lucky enough to attend Blackbird Theater Company’s production Twilight of the Gods last week prior to leaving Nashville and I must say I was very impressed. This is Blackbirds first production with many more in the works. Do yourself a favor and be certain to catch this first performance – a landmark event.
I joined friends David Dark and Sarah Masen, who initially wrote about the play on their blog, and we joked that being at the first was like being one of the first to know about Nashville’s secret “The Patterson House” – a quaint undercover speakeasy near Mid-town. We felt as if we had a new secret.
I for one wish them the best of success as I can really appreciate stage performance – and new creations at that. This is an original play by Wes Driver and Greg Greene – it is full of energy, wit and overall smarts. The script lies in the vein of a murder mystery and I guarantee that you will enjoy trying to solve the murder(s) on your own. The cast is delightful and funny, the sets – top notch; the theatre is intimate and well designed for perfect viewing.
Appreciate the escape of the theatre. In a society over saturated with technology and instant gratification your brain and well-being need to be disconnected from the TV screen, movie theatre screen and – most of all – the computer screen. For me, slowing down and taking in a live theatrical production is such a breath of fresh air. I feel as if I am free to step away from the hustle-and-bustle and relax for a spell.
This weekend is your last chance to catch it before it’s gone. Remaining showtimes are August 20th and 21st at 7:30pm. It would be best to arrive by 7:00pm to allow time to grab a great seat and a handful of popcorn. (I would also recommend bringing a jacket as the theatre is kept at a colder temperature.)
For more details please visit their website :: Blackbird Theater Company
Tickets may be purchased at the door.
I rather enjoyed posting a review of the books I had recently finished, and those I was currently reading, last month. So much so that I am happy to do it again. A few of you thanked me for this as you had been looking for a summer read; I appreciate your response.
I’ll begin with the books that I have freshly finished. If you read last months review you’ll notice that there are a few that were not in the pile of current reads. This happens often. If I’m drawn to something more enticing the less enchanting ones get pushed to the shelf for the time being. Let’s commence, shall we?
Under the Dome – Stephen King
Everything was business as usual that day until I tripped and fell into the world of Stephen King. Having never read Mr. King before this was my first. Let’s rewind. I was visiting the Sci-Fi channel one night and happened to catch a new series, Haven. I saw that it was based upon a story by Stephen King titled The Colorado Kid. It was the pilot episode and I was intrigued by the style of the story and the supernatural elements; more so than the cheesy acting and mediocre CGI. I have to read this book, I thought. The next day I made my rounds to the local used booksellers and had no luck finding it (I did, however, pick up King’s The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger, more on that in a bit) - so to the full price store I went. No luck there either. I was able to find a copy on Amazon.com that evening and before placing my order I was clicking around taking in all of the Stephen King selections; seeing which ones I had recognized from films and which ones looked compelling and not overly blood-soaked. His latest release Under the Dome caught my wandering eye. Both purchases arrived by mail on the same day. The Colorado Kid was a thin mystery book and was quite dwarfed by the other, an 1100 page behemoth. “Challenge!” I said, with a smile. I dove in headfirst; ignoring the warning to always test the water – feet first, first time.
Late doesn’t even do justice as to just how late to the Stephen King party I am. I blame it mostly on my restricted religious upbringing, which said – if it isn’t in the Christian bookstore you’re not reading it. When I was a child I thought like a child, I spoke like a child, I reasoned like a child; but when I became a man – I read Stephen King. Before the two online purchases arrived I read the introduction to The Gunslinger. I was quite taken by how personable and honest Mr. King spoke with his readers. I thought, This guy is completely normal, has a real heart for people and is passionate about what he does. He isn’t at all the monster Christians have made him out to be for all of these years.
Fast-forward with me back to where I was sitting in my brown leather chair in a well lit corner of the living room. Here is where I love to do my reading. The first few pages of Under the Dome turned with ease and before I could stop myself I was living among the residents of Chester’s Mill, Maine. King’s pacing is phenomenal. In an internet driven society the word genius is used far too flippantly – so remove all of that artery clogging usage and return to the good ol’ days of ink on paper - Stephen King is an out right genius. So good at his craft of keeping the car running page after page – reaching breakneck speeds when necessary, slowing in corners when needed but never stalling out. I finished Under the Dome in just 4 days. There is a theme to the story, a great one – but it is left for reader to search within his/her self to find it. And that’s exactly how I prefer it.
The Screwtape Letters – C.S. Lewis
This is a must for the doubter in all of us. As a man who puts his faith in God I am now at a place where I seem to be questioning most everything that has been shaped by man in the name of God. I question just how important am I, if at all, in the grand scheme of things. This writing places a bit of perspective on the subject.
In this book Lewis creates dialogue betwixt two demons – one higher up on the food chain, Screwtape, and the other – his nephew, Wormwood. The part of you and I is played by a man simply called “The Patient.” In this confabulation, shaped by written letters, the two demons discuss the securing of the Patient’s damnation to hell. Simply put, it’s the devil’s view of humankind – and his plan to steer one away from his enemy (God) and pull him/her toward “Our Father Below” (Satan) as Screwtape puts it.
Person of faith or not I recommend this for the interesting banter of what would be the devil on your shoulder. The depths these two take in attempt to secure one man’s damnation is intense. At the end of the day (end of the read) I still sometimes question if each and every soul is so valuable to Satan that he would mark each and send vehicles of evil in an effort to slay and keep them away from salvation, or if he even has the resources (Yes, Christians – I know all about his many resources to sway).
I know this topic opens up the barrel in the Christian community – but anymore I like to sit up on the hill, alone, and figure it out for myself.
The Rum Diary – Hunter S. Thompson
Hunter, you’re a crazy man. Yet, I still rather enjoy the bedlam of the world you built around yourself and the bizarre legacy you left. End-capped by the way you departed the earth.
Aside from a few articles and a brief visit into the book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas this is my first full read of Hunter. Not to compare writing styles – however, this book did for me anew what The Catcher in the Rye did all those years ago. And that is – instilled, once again, a simple love for reading.
I took pure enjoyment in riding alongside Paul Kemp as he relocated from New York to Puerto Rico, taking his skill-set as a writer with him. The struggles, the chaos, and the debauchery flowed together giving the reader a birds-eye view and avoiding full immersion.
This is a quick read, and a great one.
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft – Stephen King
Being one who dabbles in writing and is on a mission to complete something of greater length than a short story – this was like striking gold in California, circa 1849. As stated above, I am somewhat fascinated by the writing style and pacing of one Stephen King. So who better to receive advice on writing from? I implore you to grab a copy of this and let it soak in your brain if you are someone who loves to write. A good amount of what he says I was already doing subconsciously – however, to read it from King himself solidified and gave me a boost of confidence to boldly go… in the direction I was already headed. And, of course, there were so many morsels of advice in this book that I had not thought of.
Aside from being a writer, another perfectly good reason to read this book is that it is a form of memoir. King takes the reader through his life giving glimpses and tales from birth to date – and most importantly sharing how he got to where he sits now (ready for a horrible pun?), on the throne – as the King of his domain.
King reiterates the words of those who have gone before (Twain, Hemingway) when he states the importance of killing adjectives and adverbs. He concludes with the adage, “Do as I say and not as I do” – as he clearly uses a decent amount of adverbs – making light of the matter and poking fun at himself.
Shakespeare: The World as Stage – Bill Bryson
Shakespeare, perhaps the most known unknown author of them all. This book gave me more history of the age of Shakespeare than actual history of Shakespeare. Which is somewhat frustrating – but the truth is, we don’t know that much about this man.
If you hold a great deal of curiosity about this famed author look no further than this book. There are hundreds of books on the subject – you could read till you are blue in the face – but this one is simple and short, containing all of the history that we know about the man, the legend.
As I have found in other Bryson books he has a humorous and light-hearted approach to his subject matter; be it historical or of the memoir genre. So you will not be bored or lulled to sleep (unless you are really tired, then I wouldn’t blame Bryson).
The photo on your left displays the books I am currently reading. I will list them below for you and, hopefully, I will have the time to write a review as I finish reading each one.
The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger – Stephen King
The Colorado Kid – Stephen King
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
George MacDonald – C.S. Lewis
The Elegance of the Hedgehog – Muriel Barbery
The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats – W.B. Yeats
The Magicians – Lev Grossman
A Short History of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson
Burton on Burton – Tim Burton
*Here’s a tip from me to you, utilize the used bookstores in your area. They will do wonders for your wallet if you are an avid reader. Example: Stephen King’s The Gunslinger was only 3 bucks. Outstanding.
*If you live in Nashville try Rhino Booksellers, Bookman, and McKay’s. If all else fails, use Amazon.com.
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
-W.B. Yeats
Just a quick post to share with you. 12 simple shots taken with my iPhone throughout my 12 hour drive today. A majority of these were taken with a style I have created and like to call the “all-seeing wrist shot” – or the “A.W.” Defined: my eyes are on the road – I point the camera and aim using my wrist, not my eyes – and what you see is what I got.
I must sleep now – If I can over the glowing red lights and the extreme squealing shower of the room above me – sounds like a rabid gerbil running in a large rusty wheel.
Goodnight All,
cB
Nashville :: Usual Starbucks :: Usual Drink
Bridges entering Paducah, Kentucky ::
Crossing the Ohio River :: Entering Illinois
St. Louis, MO :: The Arch :: The Gateway to the West
Missouri at 80mph :: Passenger Side :: Lone Tree
Kansas City :: A Royal Home
Topeka, Kansas :: Just before the Mother of all Storms hit
Western Kansas :: Where Windmills Play Alone
Gas and Go :: Old World Pumps :: VIctoria
Open Road & Into the Rain :: Bikers
The Sun Also Sets ::
An Irish Closer :: Hays, Kansas
Time.
It’s the one thing we can all agree upon.
It exists. It never stops. It can’t be taken back.
Under the heavens it is how we explain life.
We are born. We walk the earth. We die. And in a sense time has controlled the entire experience. From conception to first breath, from act one to the curtain call – with dates and entries time has left its mark.
Yet amidst our explanation and definition of a constant moving timeline there lies a mystery. Somewhere within the mind it seems that we can almost control time. It seems that we can assuage the speed of the second hand.
It happens when we are alone. It happens when we pause to reflect. It happens when we are waiting on something we expect; a phone call, a package, the school bell to ring our release. It happens in our dreams; where reality holds no bearing on the content – holds no semblance of time. In a dream one could feel as if they have lived out a lifetime and awaken to being just an hour older than before.
The most unexplainable of these is what happens when eyes meet. In full consciousness when two people lock eyes there is a connection unlike any other – an act of telepathy; communication without speech, transference of thought.
Most have experienced this. It could mean a number of things depending on the person, depending on the circumstance. It could be an unspoken union of agreement when someone in earshot utters a statement.
It can happen when you are embraced in a topical conversation of surface or depth. You look, not just glance, into the eyes of the person you are speaking with and it seems that you travel elsewhere and time slows – almost to a halt.
In those moments of time within time your mind will process a number of thoughts. In the gaps between spoken sentences – in what appears to be only seconds – we have the ability to carry out a subterranean conversation with our self in regards to what is happening behind the eyes of the other person. All the while continuing the thought process that will allow us to carry on the conversation we are engaged in with intellect.
This sixth sense of knowing is most captivating when it transpires between a man and a woman. Here the mystery flourishes and abounds. When reflecting upon my own timeline there are two of these experiences that are particularly prominent. A third occurred just yesterday. The first two appear in my journal, one in the year 2001 and the other in 2002. Between the years of 2000 and 2006 I wrote in a journal quite frequently, so it is not surprising that these two stories ended up on paper.
[Wednesday - 25 July 2001, 8:00AM – Quezon City, Philippines]
Roosters run the streets in this humidor of a country. This morning I awoke to the chaos of quite a few. One in particular, perched beneath my window, seemed to have forgotten the last three note of his morning song. When the other’s sang, “Cock-a-doodle-doo,” this fellow could only croon, “Cock-a…” Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps he was run over by one of the 8 million motorcycles in the streets of Quezon City – left with a malfunctioning brain. Or maybe he too couldn’t breath with all of the pollutants swirling in the streets. I slept quite well last night, all things considered. Before turning in I read a bit more of The Old Man in the Sea and returned to it this morning – digesting a few chapters. Yesterday held fresh experiences for me, we took a bizarre little three-wheeled taxi to the bank so that we could exchange our dollars for pesos. These taxis are motorcycles left by the US Army following the war and have been rigged to house an enclosed sidecar. It’s something out of Mad Max, like a metal milk carton with small windows welded over top of a motorcycle. Inside the city uniformed men were everywhere standing guard with assault rifles. Once outside of the taxi a man began yelling at me in Tagalog, the native tongue. I asked our interpreter what he was saying and was informed that he was telling me to “just go home!” How pleasant. In the evening we took a train into downtown Manila once there we visited the home of a family who welcomed us in and cooked us a meal. Their home was directly under an enormous billboard on one of the tallest buildings in the city. The view from a top the billboard was spectacular – truly an amazing sight. Patches of lush green gardens separated by poorly fashioned structures as far as the eye could see. Pockets of fog surrounded us creating the illusion of islands floating under the sunlight. While on the el train to Manila my eyes met those of a young Filipino girl, most likely around the age of 20. She was stunning. It was all I could do to keep from staring. I occasionally glanced her way and would catch her with eyes fixed in my direction. It was as if time stopped, or at least reduced to a slow crawl. I was snapped from my gaze by an elbow informing me that we had reached our stop. I departed the train and turned around to see if she was in view. It was the strangest occurrence – we locked eyes through the looking glass of the train and remained that way until she was completely out of sight. With the train pulling off at what seemed to be such a slow speed the look seemed to last an hour – when in reality it couldn’t have been more than 2 to 3 seconds at best. Before she left my sightline she smiled at me. It could best be described as a mischievous “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m thinking the same” form of smile. No words were exchanged. No touch or embrace granted. Yet I swear in that moment that I believed in love at first sight – the depth or length of love? Unknown. The feeling that came over me was indescribable; something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Unless fate has my number on speed dial I’m certain I will never see her again. It’s these moments that leave a pull-tab in my memory book.
[Wednesday - 18 December 2002, 2:58 AM – Hollywood, California]
While the world sleeps, I write. So many thoughts are buzzing in my head – I needed to grab this pen and capture them, like a fly to flypaper. Once I finish writing my hope is that the buzzing will stop. I discard more writings than I keep, but who keeps dead flies anyway? Some days I just can’t seem to write enough and then there are other days when I pick up the pen and it all goes black. I can’t seem to find the lens cap so that I may remove it and draw a crisp focus. Since the days of my youth I’ve wanted to be a cowboy, an astronaut, a football player, an animator, a rock star, a film star, and so on. Tonight I was forced to add another “profession” to the carousel of desire. A director. Call it dreaming big or call it self-torture, either way I can’t stop doing it to myself. Tonight I was invited to a private screening of a film that has yet to be released. The film was titled Gangs of New York. It was quite a big tadoo – seeming to be a who’s who event. A handful of the actors and crew were in attendance as well as famed director Martin Scorsese, who sat directly in front of me. It was quite a trip to watch a film of this magnitude with the director sitting 4 feet in front of you. Following the film he graced the audience with a Q&A segment. Very easy going fellow, down to earth in more than just stature. I was compelled by how one mans idea could erupt into such a masterpiece. Of course, I wanted to speak at length with Scorsese but resisted appearing as a bumbling idiot, having little knowledge of the craft, and settled for a brief exchange instead. I can’t say enough about this film, so I won’t attempt much. Daniel Day-Lewis was hauntingly perfect – the soundtrack so moving – the scale and imagery dirty yet divine. While waiting in the wings to enter the theatre I took notice of a mysterious girl. She was gorgeous. She wore a long black overcoat with a hood and a white scarf around her neck. Her hair was jet black with bangs. Short bangs, trimmed above her eyebrows. The kind of girl you’d want to cast as a love interest in your music video; the kind you’d fall for in an instant without even the exchange of names. It’s quite peculiar to remain in the same proximity with someone you feel drawn to for hours on end without speaking. Sharing nothing but glances. She sat in the same row as I during the film, about 20 people or so to my left. I went with a new friend who was a female and quite possibly expecting things to develop into more than a friendship. I had all but forgotten that I was there with her once I had made eye contact with the mysterious girl. I refused to approach her following the film out of respect for the girl I was with – I thought it rude and shallow…
[Thursday – 19 December 2002, 10:15 AM Mels drive-in, Ventura Blvd – California]
There’s such a feel-good atmosphere enveloping the local coffee dive. I rather enjoy my visits to Mels. They should charge admission for the people watching alone. This morning my mind is swallowed up by the dreams that came last night -I was visited by the girl who caught my eye at the screening. Perhaps it was the long black cloak and the way she carried herself – or, maybe it was the obscurity that allowed her entrance. If a happening doesn’t play out as you wished in reality does ones mind attempt to recreate and deliver what might have been? If so, in this case, my dream-conscious did a poor job. The dream of her was very much like the reality of her. It was dark, yet peaceful. She was around every corner – gifting me that same longing stare, a few entwined with a half-smile. Time seemed to stop when our eyes connected. The closing piece of music from the film last night was the soundtrack to the dream. It was a U2 song, “The Hands the Built America.” She spoke not a word. I followed around every building and into every alley yet still came up empty. And I awoke feeling empty; with violins still echoing in my ear. Why is it that the most talked about fish in the sea is the one that got away? It’s the one you remember. It’s the unsolved mystery…
Yesterdays encounter lacked any form of mystery on the surface. However, the depths of why the connection was happening baffle me still. It was at a local coffee shop. A brief conversation occurred. Our eyes met and locked. And time stood still. It was enough to know that there is definitely something there with this girl. Details be damned at this point. I’ll let it breathe in the back of my mind and on Planet Ambiguous for the both of us – for the time being.
Time here on earth marches forward, without fail. You can take the battery out of your watch and you can knock over Big Ben but time will be kept with each tick and each tearing of the calendar. By the laws of nature we cannot stop it.
I’ve yet to see Superman fly around the earth counter-clockwise causing second-hands to spin the other way and time to rewind. I’ve yet to see Doc and Marty in a Delorean attempting to Save the Clock Tower! But what I do know and what I have experienced is the ability to slow the seconds and live inside of a moment. The mind is our greatest tool and strongest ally in the battle against time. You can stop time by capturing moments with a pen and paper. You can freeze time with a camera. You can time travel by sharing stories with friends and family around a dinner table or at a coffee shop.
In the mind there are no laws. No guidelines. No structure. It’s an uncharted universe. There are planets yet to be discovered. There are roads and highways to be explored. There are oceans unseen. Dreams and visions hidden. You have the key to unlock the door, step inside your mind and stop time.
The Balloon of the Mind.
Hands, do what you’re bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags in the wind
Into its narrow shed.
W.B. Yeats
Late last night I strolled into the grocery store to pick up a few items (thank God for 24 hour grocers).
As I walked in I was greeted by ‘Starship’ as they belted out…
“…STANDIN’ STRONG TOGETHER,
NOTHIN’S GONNA STOP US NOW!”
The volume was unusually high; I started laughing out loud at how ridiculous it was.
Why do grocery stores always blare these songs?
It’s like an infomercial for “The World’s Most Loved Inspirational Tunes”.
Act now and you’ll also receive 12 issues of Good Housekeeping absolutely free!
Who was it that said if we play this type of music people will feel more powerful and will be more apt to stay longer and shop. Yes, that’s it we’ll create a feel good atmosphere bookended by Celine Dion. We, the grocers of America, will change the world one store at a time.
I was so moved by ‘Starship’ that I ran all the way home fist-pumping in the night sky.
When I arrived at my front door I realized I had left my car in the parking lot of the grocery store.
There was a day, many months ago, when U2 posted that one could purchase a specialty remix album on
vinyl if they so chose. On that day I said, “Yes, Please.” And placed an order for the records.
I waited.
Finally, almost 5 months later – she arrived. Crossing pond and international customs she made it safely -
perfectly packaged, perfectly presented. I put the records in my wooden sound machine and let them spin.
Somehow in my excitement I knocked the slider from “45″ to “33″. The first song spun and I said outloud, to myself,
“This is the worst remix I’ve ever heard!” Why on earth did they think slowing down Bono’s voice was ever a good idea?
I then realized my error and all was well once again in Happy Listening Land.
Also arriving today was another online purchase. A couple nights ago I was listening to NPR on my drive home, as my
satellite radio prescription has run out (Yes, it was medicinal). I caught the tail end of an amazing piece of music and
was over-joyed when the host/dj mentioned the title of the piece after it had ended. I put on my nerdtastic super-hero
costume and sat down at my Mac and googled to the fullest. I found the site of the composer and upon a brief email
conversation with a member of their staff I was on my way to purchasing the album. It arrived with jet-like
custom-defying speeds at my doorstep. Complete with a hand written little card thanking me for my purchase
and interest in the music.
A pleasant personable experience.
If you enjoy well-composed chamber music you should wet your whistle with this piece. Written by Clarice Assad,
“Impressions: Suite for Chamber Orchestra” is marvelous. It is performed by the ‘New Century Chamber Orchestra’
with Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg at the helm.
[Bonus? The U2 records are all Purple, and the remixes memorable.]
photos captured via mî iPhone
