This song was released during the year I was born. Carole King was 29 years old. The song has sort of been in the back of my psyche since then, probably, somehow, though I doubt I had ever heard it in its entirety until a month or so ago at work, listening to the radio with my clients and co-workers.
This evening I have listened to this song eleven times in a row, in tandem with the new Information Society single 'Back In The Day'. I call this a spiritual insertion into the song 'It's Too Late' because of my attempt to insert myself into the melody, lyrics, mood and tone of the song. 'Back In The Day' has served as a spritual guide to the 'real' world, it's propulsive beats keeping my heart beating at its proper speed, while Carole's voice and song take the time necessary to imbed themselves.
The above graphic is a representation of the actual insertion into my mind, my fingers and eyes creating this image while the songs repeated themselves. This song somehow defines something unexplainable with words or images or sounds. It's a true feeling. It's in my chest. It is somehow hovering just above melancholy, just below the feeling of the day after a first kiss.
I really love the image of Carole King, her hair reminiscent of a person discussed in my Standale Tapes, her smile vaguely nice, like a real person. Perhaps that is the word that I need to clinch this all: Reality. This is reality. I feel as though I have found reality through this song. I have the feeling that if I were to attempt it I might possibly place my hand through the solid concrete wall before me.
I know that the moment I make this attempt, however, the connection to the reality will cease, my hand will touch concrete and the song won't sound quite so good any more.
What People Are Saying About the Plaza of the Mind
...[Plaza of the Mind] impressed me in its magnificent weirdness...this sorta je ne sais quoi that you find in interesting art... ...I mean that purely as a compliment!
Plaza of the Mind is a clinamen away from the holeopathic replay by the Android Meme of the old perceptual agon of electrically-programmed youth confronting the Gutenbergian Establishment. Irresistible Force meets Immovable Object.