THE THEME FROM MANGO PUDDING BLUES
We popped out of bed this morning, as we sometimes do on Saturdays, at 6:30, secretly biting off a large hunk of the day for ourselves while the rest of you were sleeping. Yes.
This particular morning we were burning with a mozartian fervour, and so before we even read the paper, we composed a very small three-part suite of theme music for Mango Pudding Blues. We present it to you lovely people here, now. You are to download these pieces, listen to them, and henceforth imagine that they are the intro and exit themes of this blog every time you read it. Okay?
Here you go. (48 seconds, 956k) (57 seconds, 1.1Mb) (34 seconds, 676k)
Thursday, September 18, 2003
IDIOT GLEE
Remember a while back we at Mango Pudding Blues told you that we were gonna grab the red-hot rim of the cauldron in which we were boiling and vault ourselves out of misery? Well, we did, and it worked, and we are now out and on the ground and everything is fine, and we are filled with idiot glee. And we’re pretty sure you knew that all of our pain was job-related and we just want you to know that now we’re back in the swing of things and workin’ and, happily, gettin’ paid. But we’ve been so long hunkered down in fear that our pay has been sitting in our bank account untouched for days and days now. We are so used to tiptoeing gingerly through the jungle that we have forgotten what one does, actually, with all this dough. We are up in the trees, shaking and clutching our rifle, even though the war is over. Hah!
And we keep forgetting to tell you that Fireland re-opened a while back and is as full of vim and vigour as it ever was.
And we are reading the new Jonathan Lethem novel, and not just because of his shirt.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
WE CAN BE HEROES
Last night we at Mango Pudding Blues saw something that instantly convinced us that we no longer spend nearly enough time worshiping our heroes. That we no longer have enough pictures from magazines pinned to our walls. That we no longer spend enough energy emulating our idols in tiny but secretly enriching ways. That we no longer carry around in our soul a large enough or vivid enough pantheon of personal gods to light our way through the valley of shadows. That we no longer buy a sufficient stock of rock star t-shirts to proclaim our cultural allegiances.
Last night we saw the truth. Last night we saw the light. Last night we saw the David Bowie delayed simulcast.
