Cold Harbor. June 3rd. I Am Dead.

A child winds up his clockwork toy. Twisting his fingers round the brass butterfly key and rotating it clockwise causing the cogs and bolts to wake up, flex their arms and legs then creep into motion. He has stains down his shirt, and dirt in his hair. Cross-legged he finishes winding and lets it do. The Toy whizzes and pops. It swirls and cartwheels. Hypnotizing him for a second then boring him. He returns with his father's hammer. He smashes it.
Olaibi - Eisa



Jump into the Orient. Where masked women twirl and shake round you commanding your attention, and your love. Desire boiling your insides and rushing through you like a virus or a fever. Delirium takes over as she slips and slides through the close night air. The sequins that hang from her scarfs sparkle in your eyes. She takes hold of your arm and pludges you into a world of lava lamps and satin sheets where her bronze body is your only god. Rhythm is your only companion, and no one is your enemy.
Omar Khorshid And His Magic Guitar - Raqsed El Fada



And now for something darker. To satisfy your taste. A world of cut glass highways and desert sands mark the road to Calgary. You'll never get there, not with that attitude. The world is vast and bleak, that repeative synsthezed base line echos in the chasms and valleys and the drones of a thousand dissapointed souls cry out for you to join them. The past is forgotten, the present is resented. That headache you've had won't go away, and all you want to do is sleep yourself into a coma.
Oneohtrix Point Never - Laser to Laser