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A Discourse on the New Beat, the Nature of Rebellion


9:07 minutes (12.53 MB)

Sound quality is eh, turning down volume helps.

Done off the top of my head.

There is a moment overflowing

there is a moment overflowing
when a passing breeze
fills
the leaves
and the tree sways embracing the air
and it is too big, too good
too much
billowing branches
following, straining, holding, reaching
and
releases
stretching out to the passing air feeling
and quivering rests
remembering

hold and release this world too much for us
everywhere too much
and yet my fingers follow
reaching and grasping

for
memories of moments
beyond me swept

 

चारिन्

 train. bus. almonds and a cool breeze. new hampshire summer air sweetly scented like pine and mountains of oak and musk and fresh flora. so crisp and real and unlike what i came from and what i will eventually go back to. mailing letters past the due date that read of girls drunk on fatigue and insights on howls and Howl and the present effect of alcohol on her social skills. self conscious about the corporation versus the art and how the two are inappropriate toward each other, foreign intruders (of redundancy) who don’t belong in an office mail box. basket? holder?

muscle and muscle and muscle and naps, an ampersand holding them together with fierce shiraz adhesive glue; veins and contours that taper into a form so familiar and missed and sad. gay men married to beautiful women. san francisco 1955. with the steams of and grinds of and maybe a wink of a working eye and the trickery of a phone number. a set up. a scenario of entrapment. roasts & blends.

cherry in the well recording


4:48 minutes (4.4 MB)

i decided to strangle my reservations and it wasn't that hard- so here's a recording of a project i like to call Liquid Meter and the Leaky Quartet. it's a raw recording with my neighboorhood noises (i think a few chirps).

the lyrics are as such:

death be kind and ignore all my crying. i know you got a lot of pleas but replace my old ones for these. come when you may and tell my mother i sent you away. death be kind forget me

...

i gave it a title so it's called cherry in the well

there are a lot of versions of this song i hope i can one day really reify it

alright, see ya

telling

telling

 Sometimes you make up your mind about something without knowing why, and your decision persists by the power of inertia. Every year it gets harder to change.

new york, after the fact

 i ache for the constant thumpthump of my heels on the concrete and an industrial, impersonal exhaustion and the verb of my eye with my fingers and my camera. i miss seeing things that bend my mind and make me stop and itch and ask what the hell the point is. new light, domestic abuse, falling houses and piles of salt. i liked all the angles of the narrow-walled galleries and the expensive coffee. i liked the nightly drinks and time spent with professors. old crow and cards and walking into a room of glossy-eyed philosophers. closer.

dead things

the greenhouse @ sherman 

somerville, massachusetts

19 june 2011

animals

animals

 she likes making lives out of dead things.

(1/5)

Suburbia I've Given You Nothing And Now I'm Everything.

 

Suburbia was never the problem.

The ethical dilemma that faced us as demonic teenagers was

Moving forward in "punk clothes" clutching drum kits and amps tight

Through the washed out backroads of New Hampshire.

 

Suburbia was never the solution.

The lack of consistency, the omnipresent hypocrisy

Encountered both in school and the venues was

Fighting and arguing for our place

the hovering

the hovering

inspired by the Underworld soundtrack and, of course, Harry Potter.