Sunday, March 25, 2007
Stories For Simone
Pontoon and Swathage:
"They may not be the most obvious entertainers and they are certainly not the loudest, but if you can seek out a story-teller or a halaka, you are in for a treat and an old one at that."
Friday, September 29, 2006
Ham Fed Watermelon
Hey Lordo: The rainfed cultivation of watermelon is an important source of income for many bedouin in the study area. They are cultivated in raqueba (small arms of the wadi) in the area between small check dams called halaka or in depressions with deep semina soil which collect a great deal of water(ardbaaly).Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Halaka tabang!
Stevadore, Carman, and Alegro:
“What does Anghel na Walang Langit means?” the little prince asked. “Halaka tabang! Sosmariosep! Wala ka kasayud unsay pasabot ato”, the girl said. “Please explain it I can’t understand. I can only speak one language”, the little prince begs. “O.K. I’m sorry. It means you can’t understand what is Anghel na Walang Langit. I’m really sorry”, the girl said.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Halaka: SuperStar
Melvin Blue:"i tried to vote vor SHAHD but the line was not working.ALHAMDOULILLAH onno wslit la akher halaka, ou inshalla hyee superstar
Posted by: ayman at January 31, 2006 05:57 PM"
Monday, March 13, 2006
Don:
* Halaka is a space marked off and usually terraced, within wliicli sacred functions were carried out. In the Mahavihura |Tissarama,t at Anuridbapura there were 32 malakas. Dip. 14. 78; Mah. 15. 192. The pocred BodM-tree for instance was surrounded by a malaka.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
THE GREAT CHRONICLE OF CEYLONilalt tot jfcoctetg
Terrance:* Halaka is a space marked off and usually terraced, within wliicli sacred functions were carried out. In the Mahavihura |Tissarama,t at Anuridbapura there were 32 malakas. Dip. 14. 78; Mah. 15. 192. The pocred BodM-tree for instance was surrounded by a malaka.
THE GREAT CHRONICLE OF CEYLONilalt tot jfcoctetg
Thursday, January 19, 2006
halakah
Lape:
The word halakah can also be used colloquially to refer to normal or accepted behavior
Sonicationator
Henser's Square Normal:
7. A method of sonication comprising the steps of:
(a) converting an electrical energy wave into a vibrational energy wave with a vibrating element;
(b) contacting a vibratable member with said vibrational energy wave to generate a standing sonic wave across said vibratable member; and
(c) contacting a test sample with said standing sonic wave,
Friday, August 05, 2005
rules
"If her swallowing his semen gives her pleasure, then who's to say it's not following the rules of Halaka?"Tuesday, June 14, 2005
letters?
I'm not sure whether I should be scared of this or not.
Halaka:
Ie spelled it right, but the you didn't read it, and
then the consideration for a new "medal of Nobel
prize" was once again denied me because of your god
damn control over the entire civilization through the
means of your satellites and the rockets you are
launching withe towers that aren' ot actuall for cell
phoen. I will howver continue to market my research
into "brain eating phenemenum waves" and the way they
are being used to make obsolute all of our best
working men and weomsn and how they are used to deny
us our immortlity which is our god given ability to as
human bein. I have evdidence that we are able to live
for ever or at least hundresds years longer than we
now living and it is because 'science" has told us so!
You can continue to deny me the awarding of the
"medal of Nobel
prize" because I know you will beut even
then you will not be able for long to keep secrete
things you are doing to prevent us from our god givens
and that you are doing to maintian your own will of
powers.
This is a warnsing, Ted
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Tearing out my hair again
Albert Or Steve:
Your Moon Is Never As Bright As You Thought It Was, or so Police Helicopter would have you believe. However, you can sit there and gradually disperse into the backwards environments while hearing the sort of repetative, but somehow hypnotic, stand-up bass figure, accompanied by some constant, slight, quiet barrage of something that's probably single guitar notes flipped over backwards. Minimal, in the sense that there's not much going on.
They (he?) enter(s) a different sclaptration altogether with Say You Will, which is also minimal but this time consists of a... ? Some kind of plucked string sort of thing, possibly a bass guitar plugged straight into something, though that's not really what it sounds like to me. And a vocal. And some singing. Sort of primordial stuff. In Architecture it's almost more clear that I'm hearing a guitar. With everything sucked out of it but the bass tones. And that's all I'm hearing.
Sapless is one of his favorites he ever made. I can see why. Minimal again, but this time more viscous, with ominous repeated bass dronings and some rhythmic backwards treble-stuff. This one's worth hearing, as is the first one I mentioned. Beyond that I'm not sure. I'm gonna stop listening now.
Moving more horrendously toward a fiery death, without even listening to anything I'm all over The Secret Goldfish, who doesn't like the name of itself. They/he are/is "anti-music and anti-recording." So you can't beat that.
Though it's tempting to be anti-listening to them/him, I'm going to go with my guts and see where the juice lands. without tracks, trains are as lost as you or me is lovely and peaceful, and way more differenter than I suspected. This reminds me of Rain Theory; lots of clean, echoing, reverberating guitars. Backwards guitars run in and out, long, slow, e-bow-y stuff haunts the background. There are clicks and pops coming and going; they become more prominent as the song progresses. There's clearly something falling apart here, and the lefts and the rights decide to diverge along their own paths. This is brilliant.
chainsaw is a little disappointing at first, as i'm hearing that goddamn plugged-in-acoustic sound. But the song is crazy, weird, and catchy all at once. Vocals this time, quirky and unique. I'll give it a pass, even with that goddamned guitar sound. setting sail in large vessels is another great one, instrumental again and with much better sounding guitars than that last.
Let's just say you're better off if you go listen to all of this stuff, especially if you're into the mellow, raining, thought-or-trance inducing liquidity that I'm into. the lutz carillon is chilling, gradually building its offkilter effectedness until you can imagine what might be blood on the hotel walls. throw those sorrows out the window; the rainy days can't touch you adds some strange percussion over in my right ear to the layers of distorted and clean guitar atmospheres. There are also some bells. Bells. Chimey. Bellthings. This guy is probably eating meatballs on top of the moon, is what I think.
I've Just Realized Something...
My recent headings here (hell, maybe always), sound like the stupid titles for question categories on Win Ben Stein's Money. What a cinch-sack that makes me. I've recently come to hate those, though I hate them more, I think, for the fact that the morons in the audience are apparently forced to laugh at EVERY SINGLE TITLE that they use on that show than for anything to do with the titles themselves. They just exist, and don't, and do.
So what's this about? The Pornographic Priestess CD tears all of my monkeys off all of my walls. There's a track on there called O, Jesus that would fit nicely right up next to any of a number of (released or otherwise) halaka tracks.
What else is this about? I've slumpishly not been discovering anything new lately. I'm still missing the random streamingness of some of the mp3 sites in their haydays. Hey. Dey.
The telephone connected to no one is ringing.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Nothing Clever
This will come out looking horrible, as do all entries made in this fucked up new blogger interface that sticks paragraph breaks randomly wherever the fuck it wants, regardless of what... fuck... sendup squirt bottle Shemp is fucking dead.
So if you're creeping around here (and I don't know why that would be,) and you're not already aware (doubly), the halaka website has been shat back out into the disgrateful wild word wheat. Mitch has been busily reconfiguring the unconfigured and disembracing a whole gaggle of dead geese. Just be plaster. The official announcement of the official rebirth is forthcoming. You won't have heard it here, ever.
Old favorites Pornographic Priestess have got a new CD available. Go ask for one. Also, they've got an officious looking website.
Suck this, blogger.
Monday, April 18, 2005
What do you want, a Wookie?
...
FALL RIVER
...
700 Shore Drive Unit 205. $171,500
Naguib J. Halaka to Susan A. Wright
Monday, April 04, 2005
Although we didn't March, we shall April
Bubby and the Flies:
"And you will say 'I want to eat meat.'" [The word 'I want to eat'] is written without a 'vav' [Heb. achlah] which is similar to the word meaning 'I will destroy.' [Heb. akalah] This means that he desires to destroy and break his desires for physical things, which are called [in this verse] 'meat.' The meaning of this is that it is always the case that the desire of the soul is to destroy the desire for physical things. The holy Torah* teaches us that all his actions should only be to fulfil the will of his soul, which is learning Torah, doing mitzvos, good deeds and the fear of HaShem. From doing that he will break and nullify his physical nature.
(http://www.chassidus.net/reah.htm)
Also please to be keeping in mind that the state of our being able to find relevant obtuse musics for your persusement is directionally improportionate to the singly underhanded destruction of the whollity of all of the once thriving, free mp3 sites.
In the absense of any description, or relevance, or calamity, let's:
Okay, sure, nevermindthen.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Oh how the Nifty have Crawlen
TickleJelly wants you to put the beer in the refrigerator. It's okay, you can do it.
That is all. Leave me now.
Monday, February 21, 2005
found again what never weren't lost
Bartleby and the Pig:
Madhog, surfacing briefly from his many-years long pigrimage to Swahir in the middle of the East, exclaimed:
I FOUND HALAKA:
Halaka, Afghanistan
HOLY SHIT.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Hell, Together With Its Inhabitants, Will Be Annihilated
Albert and the Famous People:
"The word HaLaKa, on the other hand, is occasionally used to describe death of an individual (40:34), but usually irreversible destruction and annihilation, or total existential extinction of an entity (5:17; 6:6; 6:47; 8:42; 20:128; 21:95; 22:45; 28:59; 36:31; 69:5; 77:16)."
I have variagated and become also part of Spiral Galaxy Collision. "In this awy, we shall be in a state of constant collision with the system of the universe."
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Inhale, Intrude, Index the File
It's been months or some time period that stretches between two nails but won't snap. Driven out of the stairwell with the flickering bulb that's more off than on (it's not just the bulb -- the whole place is wired up with this indeterminate sort of electricity, and we all just give thanks every day that the power doesn't stop, or the place doesn't melt down, entirely.) Standing out in the entryway, naked and staring while mezmerizing sounds reverberate from ear to ear. Not sure if they're in me or out.
With a voice like John Martyn after he's swallowed Peter Murphy's psychotic twin brother, Mezmariah presents a full seven songs on Dmusic that should be downloaded, burnt onto a CD, or onto the skin of your upper arms, and displayed for all of your neighbors. There's at once a feeling that you're lost somewhere in the 1970s underground and coming out sometime after the millenium flipped all the numbers covered with cobwebs and followed by some creepy little guy in a hooded sweatshirt. Eosophiles and Eosophobes will both show you what I mean; if you don't love this guy already after hearing either of these two songs then what the hell are ya doing here?
This music is highly recommended, and has received 14 and a half out of a possible pi corpuscles, on average, from halaka's crack(ed) staves. Write home and tell the folks.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Pulling Shards of Bone Out of my Throat
Bonnie and Spiff:I hate the way this editor works now. I am nearly going to throw in the fucking shitcan and forget using this place. I can never remember how it's going to format it. I DON'T WANT YOU TO FUCKING FORMAT IT, OKAY? CAN YOU JUST NOT FUCKING FORMAT ANYTHING? CAN YOU LET ME FUCKING DO IT?
But anyway, sorry about my recent meltdown. I really had great things to say about them one people. I will try, with my forearm as the treetops, to endeavor to later think about considering some future revisitation rights.
But currently I'm on a different ledge, and scarier place with dark eyes and impacted skin. There isn't a strobe light while I'm listening to the things on matt maddex's dmusic page; it's darker, longer. But there are bright flashes of light, like maybe there's lightning in this little concrete room we're in. Everytime those lights slash like that I'm sure there are things on the floor. I don't know what the fuck's in here.
There are three songs apparently credited to Breaker of Horses. Two really have torn me into shreds: She's probably a lesbien anyway and The Artist:Beaver. In these there are occasional vocals, screamed like it hurts, not out far in the mix. The playing is jagged, drunken, precise yet precisely unconcerned, an abstraction. This stuff holds together like a beautiful statue that someone drove a dump truck into and then tried to put back together with wire and coat hangers.
In the other track by Breaker of Horses, Too arty, for your own good, there's slightly less aggressiveness, more puzzled punches in the dark. There's a voice, here, too, though I'm not sure it's in the recording and not just an artifact of the energy. This shit is strong, and I wish there were more.
There's something else, enticingly titled solo thing(not finished), that makes me assume this Maddex guy is maybe the guitarist for that Horses conglomeration. Or maybe not. There's a similarity here, and this is another frightening, creepy piece of music. There's water splashes at the end that really just freaked me out coming out of the rest of it.
Go get a fix of this shit. Keep the lights on, though.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Seven Heads and Sven's Sheds
fuck. i thatatoiu. I hate this fucking place with a passion now. Anyway, I just wrote a huge thing about someone it's utterly gone now. go fucking listen to The Masons. Really. And I am so fucking on fire with anger about how I just wrote something that was actuallly sometohgning to fucking write and it totally just LEFT THE FUCKING THING now that I just want to lidf fucking kceirl.Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Orvert, Do you want a sexy dancer dance on your desktop when playing Halaka I The Heater Was Going To Come On mp3? (Do Not To Be Clicking That Link Unless You Feel Like Dumb)Tuesday, August 24, 2004
You Never Told me You Didn't Care About the Color of my Underwear
Beemy, Steum, Largesse, and Craig:
These fucking guys in Wumpus are distracting my self. Off on a tangent, twisted in this wind they're blowing. They're that rare sort of utterly perfect do-exactly-that-one-kind-of-thing-that-I-ain't-got-words-for band, the kind I just want to, you know, listen to. And then repeat. And then rinse if necessary. Not necessarily in any order.
Go find such songisms as Porn on the Web, ...As For The Angels, and Boliver T. Shagnasty. Relish yourself with those "aaaaaah" harmony voices in Triumphantly Trudging Thru Mud. Listen to your head explode in space (which shan't make a sound.) while they sing about Rocketship, feeling at once like way early Pink Floyd mixed with something I just can't still put my fingers into. ("There are no boundaries, no gravity. There are some martians out here with me.") Trade them with your friends. Put them all in your same shoebox.
I'm really afraid to follow the links they've got there. Other bands that appear to be of a similar vench. But I haven't listened so I know nothing. Only am I always ever listening to this Wumpus now.
They blog themselves like little fungers, too: Wumpus Central. Tell me, Steve and Burp, if this doesn't sound like an excerpt from something someone other than these guys mightta put somewheres, "Rory tuned the Rhodes. King Wolfgoat became Freddie First Take. DSSTM trudged. I played my part almost good about 8 times. muchos P ber. some re ber. no capt peever. I am a believer."
We Know, Don't Know, Don't Know if we Know
People Who Pretend to Be Me:DMusic is way down this time. Maybe just for a minute or an hour or maybe for the glaciatic dripping of an age or a colosum. It returns no calls, it picks up no lines.
In that strange world, when it's functioning, there exists a devious enigma that calls itself, variously Mike Hock and the Pigeon Hand Clap Orchestra and Sir Mike Hock. The sounds that come out of those vacuums are tasty and expressive, though (always?) schizotastic and unforgiving. Mike Hock likes to work with luminaries like that guy who plays robocop and the dead dwarf who used to hang around on stage with Kid Rock. It likes to use synthesized voices to read rambling diatribes while the garbled electronic rhythms slam and pulse and break things all over the fucking room. Mike Hock could be a computer, or it could be a disguise for David Hasselhoff, who hates his own famous face.
There's always this hint there though that Mike Hock is an angry ex-person, someone who used to make music with us but then found a religion or a delicious red velvet cake or heeded the words of the Prophet L'oaf. An entity who grew jealous of our power until one day it decided to turn our brains into pickle loaf. We may never know.
Friday, August 20, 2004
The Consistently Missing o
Ben and Harry:
Aleksey Boytsov, who is The Subconscius Lamp Operators, has a handsome and swarthy list of similar bands & artists over there on his/their besonic.com site. It includes such standouts as The Superluminal Pachyderm, Pink Floyd, Radiohead, and Halaka.
Did you catch that?
Okay. I tripped over the consciusly missing the 'o' Subconcius Lamp Operators some time ago on Soundclick. That page is still there. They like cheese. They don't sound like cheese, though, so much as psychedelic strangeness, creating pieces of extended freejazzery with heavy use of weird voice and noise samples alongside the swirls of synth washes and a lot of things that sound enough like bass guitars to confuse the intrepid listener.
For a good introduction to what this guy's all about, take a listen to "Within The Earshot Of Cheese (Complete Version)", on the besonic page. Gaze in undulating glory at the breakdown of its parts on the lyrics page; from "Part 1: Duck Memorials and Apple Cones" to "Part 5: Our Piano Joined The Wolfpack" and beyond. I hear a little eerie-movie-musicness to this stuff, like Fantomas if Fantomas didn't have any guitars or any Mike Patton.
Go listen.
In Other Sporting Goods Availability Noose:
dmusic.com is hiding from me today. For any other dmusic-addled persons reading this: here's to you. Or someone.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Billy and The Have Been's Mittens:
Listen to Zsammy at DMusic. Catchy and quirky, home-produced (in Cakewalk) music that doesn't sound like it. This stuff shines with individuality, but most importantly the songs are good. Clean electric and acoustic guitars, eerie atmospherics behind what might at first seem to be simple material. Stream these: Burning Down the Avenue, Tense Men Meet Here, Pitchblackeyed Man. Listen to it all, though.
Browse The Red Ferret Journal's One Million Free & Legal Music Tracks Wiki. (Credit where it's due: The Left Half of My Brain.)
Otherness:
Our track, Something Fantastic (Hey Ernie), has been nominated as best song in the "Other" category in the First DMusic Awards. We're up against an excellent track from our friends in Blubat called The Spaceman Romantic. There are also other nominees, of course, and at least one of them strikes me as decidedly un-other-like. Regardless, it's all good stuff. Here's the complete list of nominees in all categories.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Halaka Soup
SAUCE: 1 quart Kylerian goat's milk 1 tablespoon Jibellian seven spice mix 1 cup Bantan 2 tablespoons Halaka soup base 1/3 cup Prishik 1/2 cup Silmic wine 1 pound Alfarian hair pasta 1 red Neccel 1 green Neccel 1 orange Neccel 1 yellow Neccel 2 Felada onions 2 tablespoons Spik basil 2 tablespoons Chadre-kab 4 Eskarian breastsWednesday, April 07, 2004
permanent and total loss of industrial use
The Court of Appeals also does not recognize that Hakala does not say its rule only applies to vision cases. Halaka said that an uncorrected test is to be used in that T&P case even though the inquiry was not “loss of industrial use”. It is no “exten[sion]”, therefore, of Halaka to say it applies to T&P loss of industrial use cases. A corrected test would be more – not less – applicable in a “permanent and total loss of industrial use” case where the inquiry is economic than in a strict physical impairment situation as in Hakala. Non-economic T&P cases demand a corrected test because “the concept of permanence . . . involv[es] . . . consideration of medical treatment options.” O’Connor, citing Larson. That “concept of permanence” plus an economic inquiry most assuredly requires evaluation with assistive devices.Sunday, April 04, 2004
The Death of the Shooting Arm
My shooting arm's getting very sore, right in the tricep, from sitting and trackballing too much. That's a sad statement. Sometimes I think I'd like a do-over.
Found Uterine Fury, not sure how. Some MP3s include work by Natur'es Incubator (tha's the way they spell it,) like The Madbird - "you rubbed this in a rabbit's eye." I'm pleasantly surprised by the vocals here, droning and hypnotic, with strange (and very cool) harmonies. Sometimes they sound a little shaky, but these lyrics and this melancholy feel are suitable to my inept paucity. Some samples of birds and water are a good touch. The song stretches across its length surprisingly well, drifting from the dronings to some drum-machine rhythms with moody clean electric guitar. Also listen to Waltz of the 2 Eyed Spider; possibly just these two titles can indicate to the more pay-attentioning of readers why I might be interested.
Further things I should calcify (for my own sake as much as that of any of you not reading) -- I often talk about MCLD, who I "know" (in the online, how-can-we-really-know-anybody-this-way sense) as Dan, in the same grammatical structure as The Bellerophon, who had music I liked on mp3.com back when mp3.com had music on it. So yesterday I was looking at Samscam, to which I've had bookmarks for years and years, and I came to understand some of what maybe I was told before (because I do remember some words from Dan about this at some point,) but which I'd maybe never digested. Dan apparently at some point worked with the Bellerophon, but their primary instigator is this Sam person. Who I've probably also spoken to at some point in the past. Obviously these two guys are friends in some capacity, and possibly I've never actually said anything about Dan having been the main Bellerophon person, but in case I did hint in that direction at some point, I just want to apologize now and clear up that I do (now, anyway,) understand what the hell's going on. I think I get confused by these short-a sounds in one syllable names. It's just too much for my feeble capacitors.
At any rate, while you're hopping around those links (you are following the links, right?) be sure to listen to some of the music Sam makes -- from the Bellerophon as well as missmyheartbeats.
Another recent discovery - Danfezzeko Padekodus.
That is all.
Saturday, March 27, 2004
up from the throat
Lynch and Lemonade:
Give it a second. Listen for long enough for the droning layers under the beatboxing to really move you around. You'll move, you will. At some point, if you're like me (which, really, I hope you aren't,) you'll start wishing you could do this many cool things with yer voice. Especially that throatsinging thing, that's amazing. His website's called dredzelblab, and the song I'm referring to is rababih, and you'll know why it's called that if you keep on a' listenin'. And I don't know how you couldn't.
You'll then immediately want more, and so you can try wa-u-wa-u and try not to pay attention to the fact that you can't stop rocking around in your chair.
For more throatsinging (including instructions) and voicevoicevoice antics, don't forget about MC Loonee Dan, MCLD. You can hear samples here, from his release Mouthpeaks, as well as others. Dan's been a favorite since back in the mp3.com radio station days, and this page has a lot of examples of the reason. (Examples of the reason? Pardon, I've got to twist my twister around, it seems to be on bassackwards.) While you're over there you could also have a look around; he's got a lot of helpful info. about building some crazy instruments, links to other music projects he's involved in, little interesting writings (right up our hop-along, that,) and other equally entertaining stuff. Dan's also planning some sort of online miasma of oddmusic, a radio broadcast online sorta thing, and I'm looking forward to it.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
holy pornography, batdog
I hate to be so fucking pushy today, but DROP YOUR GODDAMN PANCAKE RIGHT FUCKING NOW and go listen to pornographic priestess; listen to celebrity prison (has got to be the shit) RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Thanks. You should then listen to whatever else they have there, cuz they all kick ass.a great fall
Fanch (the returned and unbuttered gormph-child) :
This strangtecular stuff you mentioned is fucking nuts, besides being hard to spell. Got them goofball vocals like some Fuchsia Death fuckers we used to know. And listen to that squirmering sound on Fancy Love Songs. Whadyaknow. Now how'm I gonna buy a CD with my wallet out in the picnic truck?
So here's the gongtree: I took those CDs we were supposed to do something with and hit 'em on the corner of the desk and they cracked like a motherfucking egg. What the hell? I thought you told me they were indetestructible. Err, indeterminate? Uncorrupted? I dunno. Anyway, we might have to wait a while longer for stuff to come to fruition. Just a minor, err, well, I don't know how minor, there's pieces of CDs all over. Just like when we threw those stacks of My Steez all over the studio. Look at those shards of shiny busted Steez!
Okay, so today I inadentally came across Mr. Doofyhead. There are two tracks there right now, Going to Catch a Catfish and Soft Lillies. I'll leave it up to you rascals to go see if they're still there and listen to 'em. We've certainly gotta admit to a certain amount of resemblement to one Mr. Bungle in this material, but it's energetic enough, and nuts enough, to stand upon its own leotards and hoodle to the toodles. It makes me very hamper.
Toodles.the strangtecular and a lemon bar
fanch awakes from his nap. rubs eyes it's been a bit, but here i sit. the strangtecular are a now defunct group sort of in the vein of us. crazy songs, crazy vocals, odd noises, lo-fi whatnots. cookin' a moose over fire. listen to some clips. buy some albums. i mean, well, cdbaby is a pretty cool thing, lots of unknown bands, lots of cheap cds. that part about the lemon bar was a lie. fanch crawls back under rock.Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Farmer's got a Brand New Bag
Hey Eleanor Throckmorton:
How's it rubbing? I remember striking a pose on the edge of some soft-bodied clam, or maybe it was a crawfish, up in the building pattern office. Remember? They had blueprints strapped to all the walls except that they were orange. Fuckin' weird, is what you said, before that dude with the too-tight bowtie came charging through the door and tackled you, trying to knock you out the window.
That was a close one, no?
I was thinking about that for the past few days as I was subsumed beneath this dmusic thing. It's too bad you hit your head so hard on the glass, you'd probably enjoy this place if you still had a grip on your faculties. So while struggling with this I decided it's time I point you to some of the real heroes over there. Those would be the ones who actually light up when you plug them in.
Blubat, for instance. The first thing you'll trip over when you wander into their hemisphere is an oblong Farmer's Bag. I think you're supposed to refrigerate that, or at least keep it out of the reach of childrens. You might recall one of the times when we used some external source material in liu of lyrics. I, of course, don't remember that. But you might. If you had a faculty. At any rate, this particular song, about the Bag, is like that. Sort of.
Later you can find a different twist on the monkeysphere. A tune called Lovic, a mellowness wrapped in ethereal, erm, candypaperbobbleheads. Or something. (Granted, for whatever reason I can't stream that fucker now, but what the hey. I remember it, that's the cool thing about heads and ears.) This thing moves the trance from the back of your memory, where you left it back around the time we were doing that Slinkyhead stuff, and right into your foreground, your frontal field, your comfort position. Just hear those percussive percussives, and that blowing bottle (if that ain't a blowing bottle I don't know what is, except I'm fer sure we used one on that Slinkyhead thing,) and then there's that thing what sounds like a single-note chord organ. Aaaah.
Don't forget to steer yourself back into the territory of the absurd, with Dicin' up the Rug. There's a Jaw Harp! And a thing that sounds a lot like one of the stringed instruments YOU'D pretend to be playing. Eleanor, you drippy bitch.
I'd love for you to listen to every one of the songs there, okay? Just, okay? Is that? C'mon, stupid, it's not that hard. Anyway, at the very least check out A Song for the Sickness, which is a very sparse and zoned-for-packaging instrumental with some creepy, way-back-in-the-back sounding rumbly stuff going on in my right ear. Of course I usually have shit plugged in backwards so it might come out above you. How the fuck should I know? There's also a remix of that thing by some other guys over there, but personally I have it in for the original. It's got something that helps my cramps.
Give those guys plenty of your aural behoofment, but then also, at some point, find Twinkiebots, okay? Be sure you stick Cracks in the Fairytale into your pipe and lick it. It's a twisted piece of something, though clean and well-paced. You'll think you've just inundated the fluxus, Eleanor. Really.
Some other goodies (though listen to 'em all!): Something Beautiful, I Held Her All Night. (These guys have some serious post-beatles/beatlesque/whatchymutchit stuff goin' on.)
Alrighty now. You'd better get your ball on the act, there, spendows. I've found some other stuff there, too, but you need to get on the ball and do some homework before I fill ya in.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Sometimes God Poops Out a Small Childrens
Ebenezer Poo:
You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you all, fuck you. I don't. I just. Fuck. I mean. I mean, to say fuck. Is what. I.
Anyway, if you're here reading me say "fuck you," you aren't who I'm talking to, cuz the guys I'm talking to are supposed to put stuff here but never, ever have. Or do. So fuck you, and your horse's left nut. Fuckers.
While you're reading about fuck you, you should go over to another dmusic artist. These guys are midget golf. They want to know "What the hell is Kwanzaa," (Kwanzaa), and, most importantly, they have advice in Luke's Advice to Kids. My advice, of course, is fuck you. But you could just listen to these guys and fuck them, or something. They're good, this is what it's not about but never was, but when you're fucking you, who cares? Fuck?
DID I SAID FUCK ANYTIMES? FUCK. Oh.
Oh, and I didn't notice about Stop, Drop and Roll, wherein the fucking absolute CLASSIC line is uttered: "stop, drop and roll when you're on fire." Fuck yeah. I mean fuck you.
