World War III Radio: Dark Disco III (April 30, 2022)

I’m probably carrying on with these mixes, these Dark Disco mixes that is, solely on the basis of the images accompanying them. I’m prone to do that. It’s not that the mixes themselves aren’t fantastic. They truly are. It’s the illustrations that hold me though. No sense dismissing the impact of titillating pictures. Bondage gear. Red lipstick. Same sex erotica. What’s not to love?

But the music is pure fire. No joke.

There’s nothing about this imagery that hasn’t always captured my imagination more than the mainstream world. My mother used to tell me that I was born with my mind in the gutter. That sentiment is definitely not without its irony considering the source. Not saying anything about her. I don’t really know much about her and the more I’ve learned the less I’m inclined to want to know. These are the secrets she’s struggled to hide. It’s not my place to expose her. It’s her story, not mine. That’s the whole thing. Sometimes you have to let people have their secrets. The secrets are what keeps them glued together. And frankly, i’d rather not know anyway.

I’ve never had any affinity for love and light though. Well, love certainly because everyone desires love, but light? No, the darkness has always consumed my private thoughts. Why even pretend otherwise?

And for those of us drawn to the dusk, our season is right around the corner. We’re coming up on Labor Day Weekend, not technically the end of summer, but the commonly accepted end. All the cycles of birth, school, work and death begin again at the same time the days get short and the leaves begin to die. The sun gets lower in the sky and the temperatures settle lower, though less low yearly, and traditionally my brain has perked up. We’ll see. It’s possible that similar to the effects of global warming, and that winters become less strident, my brain will be less perky. That remains to be seen. All I know is that autumn is my season. I know I’m not alone in welcoming the fall. There are many like me who prefer the early darkness. Apologies to those who don’t share in this, but you’ve had your summer. Let me have this.

Let me have this.

It’s mine.

I don’t know why the trees are more beautiful to me when they’ve shed their leaves and their crooked black fingers are silhouetted against graying sky. I don’t know why.

But they are.

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