Illness catalysed ranting.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU REFUSE TO GO OUT, OLLIE. YOU STUPID BASTARD.

loljk. Sickness strikes at only the most inopportune times.
But words can come to you if you just push them a little bit.

I don't know what it is, but something is drawing me to listen to Australian hip-hop. No, not Hilltop Hoods, fuck off, they're rubbish. At the moment it's just Urthboy and Hermitude. Under normal circumstances this would make me feel dirty, obviously I am not under normal circumstances, whatever that entails. Maybe it's something about the culture, the pseudo-bohemian idea of 'the streets'. Hip-hop culture is probably the culture that I identify the most with. Not at all 'gangsta' or anything of that ilk, but the idea of no pretension to the aim of an idea conveyed through rhythmically placed words. Some of the words aren't too bad either, completely contrary to any bastardised drivel about 'bitches and money' or whatever the kids are listening to these days. Urban settings best suit me as well, a chaotic sprawl of concrete and irrelevant paraphernalia. Think of a Tim Burton movie if it was placed in the inner city, imagine the arbitrary items heaped into piles in dingy alleyways and the derelict apartments where the rooms have no purpose and can be/are used for anything.

It's entrancing. Two completely disparate rhythms, one regular and the other decidedly random, overlaying and overlapping. And it's poetry, no less! Those are three things I strive for: word, rhythm, and harmony thereof. Hip-hop/rap achieves those two perfectly.

Right. More things. Write all the things. Write all the things? YES. Write all the things.

Plans for tomorrow. Put pen to paper. Which is a nice way of putting it since neither of those elements come into play here. Put words to pixels. That's better. PLANS FOR TOMORROW. YES I'M IN A STATE OF SEMI-DELIRIUM. WHY DO YOU ASK?

Until now I never had anything with which to play records, which is a shame since I really do love to browse records. Now I do. We trawled through a family record collection and found some amazing shit: Ten Years After, Madness, Dave Brubeck, it was beautiful. The Brubeck stuff had versions of familiar songs I'd never heard before with harmonicas and violins and psychedelic guitar, and reflecting on that they're versions I probably never would have heard. There is far too much music than can be contained within a computer, or even the internet, it's ephemeral and constant. Even existing music is constantly changing.
Which is why I bought two random 50c records. The cheap stuff is always the best; if it's crap then that's okay, no harm done; if it just happens to be amazing then that's even better. Tried that once before and it turned out that the artist was just about to hit it big in Australia, so I was inadvertently ahead of the curve. Right, I bought a record with Beethoven's 5th concerto from Op. 73 and Liszt's 2nd Hungarian Rhapsody, and another of the London Symphony Orchestra playing classic rock. There's some really good stuff on there too: Pictures Of Lily, Gloria, Layla, Another Brick In The Wall, You Really Got me, it's looking to be pretty good. Now I just need to invade Robin's bungalow again and watch video cassettes and listen to records and play ridiculously old video games.

Possibilities open up wherever you choose to find them.

Edit: I'm not delirious on this, the following evening. Yet here I am again, listening to Hermitude. I just genuinely enjoy hip-hop it seems.