friends i am so tired i can’t see straight and it hurts to look at this space here which is kind of moving in ways it shouldn’t. in the past week i have slept twelve hours total i think but here are some things.
INTERNET PRESENCE BELCH: STORAGE FOR THE IMAGE HOARD
analog synthesizers ominous cloaks monochromatic palettes cyan tinting black lines black machines naked people bone cults here.
INTERNET PRESENCE BELCH: WILL SMITH’S BLACK NAZI MACHINE
on the track's title page i talk a little about it i couldn’t find the text piece HOURS upon which it was based but i found it now i found it yes. here it is. from back in 2008 when things were simpler.
INTERNET PRESENCE BELCH: TWO THINGS YOU WILL NEVER KNOW
a glockenspiel interpretation of the schubert string quartet from Herzog’s Woyzeck but only from memory though i don’t remember the melody's turnings. sounding like what i remember it sounding like which doesn’t seem quite right or rather doesn’t seem right at all. an audio sample of a shrill tenor shit-talking the dave matthews band. the synth sequence element from paul mccartney’s christmas song a wonderful christmas time which is not seasonal or appropriate but i can’t stop it in my head up there. a lo-bandwidth bitcrusher wall to hold everything up.
15 minutes of vocal loops backwards and icy guitar chords recalling a certain icelandic ensemble but it really sounds like enya and this is something that keeps happening and i don’t know how to stop it. can i market myself as the Noisenya. is that viable.
A SHORT THING ABOUT OAKLAND
you took my mattress you took my megaphone. everything the neighbors said about the smell is true. i smoked in bed i woke in sweat. the corner’s crackhead begged for mine but all those dollars went to rock. he sang outside my window in the dark in the garbage he built a careful shrine from what he didn’t want. empty bottles of facial cleanser and punched out laxative tabs on the walkway.
who wrote my fake missed connection and who wrote yours. the safeway checkout clerk who called me Hollywood maybe. his big bright teeth. i wondered who he went home to. if like me he just went home and wore his winter coat to bed. the whole foods clerk wouldn’t call me Hollywood wouldn’t talk about his elk tattoo. elk meaning melancholy. cut chunks of watermelon.
night a boy twisted into a chair came and gripped my hand in the dark. i kissed the straining motor of his breath but there was nothing i could say to give him legs. when it stopped making sense. i drove to the red bridge and issued silent threats into water for an hour and then drove back. you broke the gold on my throat and hung me with it. you in the bottom of the basement with your photographs of air in days. where your mom found you. where was i.
BREAKING NEWS IN HUSBANDS
I RECIEVED A MESSAGE FROM A POTENTIAL HUSBAND TODAY, HE MAY HAVE EXCEEDED THE 500 WORD MESSAGE LIMIT BUT HE SEEMS SUITABLE. AN UPDATE WILL FOLLOW SOON.