I've had the music of Pink Floyd's Live at Pompeii playing on loop, interspersed equally with Brian Eno's Another Green World, all day, back and forth like seven or twelve maniacs all arguing their odd cases. I don't often listen to such demanding music while I am working, it becomes too distracting, but I read a couple things this morning that made me curious about the past again. The two recordings are very different artifices of affectation, such that nothing seems quite real to me any more. And all I'm doing is sitting here, as clear headed and vacant as I've ever been.
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