PA.APP (12)

(the listening experience)
I don't like all of it.
                                     But then, I'd never expect anyone    
                 to like all of what I do either.
 If I tried to make
                                  what everyone liked
            then I'd be just another
                                                       dead swan
              on the great fuckin' pile of
                                                                 dead swans

We do not accept funding from anyone who wants to compromise the cosmic textures of the universe of eyeballs that follow you through the dream space; rabbits emerge from black voids, in response to a column written by Bob Jones in which he called for a new “Māori Gratitude Day” where Māori bring Pākehā breakfast in bed. Among toxin-exposed children, the researchers found that the proportion of cognitive loss that results from exposure to chemicals used in flame retardants, called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PDBEs), and organophosphate pesticides increased from 67 percent to 81 percent. He occupied a commanding oak armchair of sorrow, poverty, loss and the general end of this god forsaken planet. A failure to reckon with this history would be a failure to properly contextualize the president’s current threats to combat, highlight, or heal sociopolitical invisibility. (let us know if you'd like them gift-wrapped).

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The show of otherworldly electronica. This week, I focus on the Buried Treasure Records PLUS there's a treat from the band Revbjelde of epic proportions.
Special thanks to Alan Gubby of Buried Treasure (www.buriedtreasure.bandcamp.com)

  LISTEN HERE

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In your drift you are generous green, reaching up to touch clouds and swaying easy on the aftershock. One man limping through it as dislikes clash head-on with a rose hue of misdemeanor past. Ventilated for high activity, shrewd in a tight spot and captivating in an ordinary sense. She was ready for the fluster but somehow it had dwindled down to just a small glass jar’s worth of inconsistencies. Some weird and over stated emporium came riding in under the cover of dark and set up shop, right there, in our faces. Prime sites and prime targets scuffle tooth and nail-file for an unaffiliated opportunity. A pyramid sale. A corner table. A quick modification. Even a hot date with an homosexual amputee. What could be more real than bad narcotics and a cosmetically accurate face mask? Driven out of the room by my mind and whipped through the doorway in defamatory hostage threats. So many stooping to pick up what they have yet to drop, unrealistically convinced all they desire will be on the floor in front of them somewhere between here and the indescribable evolution of the merest unconvincing time-saving hand tool. Fresh up and willing, holding the fort and placing left foot after right in this huge and pointless race to be forgotten too quick by too few. Reality check. Not much figuring to do but still scratching the surface of the fontal lobe, the rats nest of glimmering destitution scenarios and hopeless investments. Twenty years ago i was fresh out of patience. It closed it’s door on me and i stood back and watched myself rise up from the ineptitude of it all. No one even asked to see my ticket.

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 ????? >   METAMORPHOSIS OF A BURNT OUT BUS PT.2 (a.k.a. All Aboard)  <<  |||}{

WALKING TALL WITH A 9 YEAR OLD

Turned out in contemplation
of something older
the jam glitched and turned into a sour jazzfuck
enough of that
enough of wishing on a stocks and shares portfolio

Never be fooled by a man in a suit
the uniform of deceit and
unconvincing superiority
the ultimate symbol of the con and the lie
they need your support for authentication
but luckily they  are incapable of dressing down convincingly
an empty glass never looks full

I put my head into the waterfall and found its truth
not that it was ever in question
the sliding backwards
the holding on
and the clash of conversation under the
pixelating summer light
as it glints lancing shafts of brilliance through
the native bush
one voice talk goat paths and rotten wood
whilst the other younger voice chatters of
international youtube followers and monetaristic software value

The water slaps me in the face
dropping from the heights like a bun of tricks
the sweet sound of foolish humanity
wise enough to not
take itself seriously
and all this barely an hour from my back door

PH 18.01.20                                                                             top - JEANNE_BROUSSEAU / bottom - MRS_GEORGE_DUNHAM

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS THERE WILL STILL BE THIS MOMENT. AT THIS MOMENT I AM LISTENING TO RVCK // YOU CAN TOO IF YOU FOLLOW THIS LINK

STORYOFHISSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSSSSSSSSSSSSSTORYOFHISSS

NOSTALGIA

nostalgia |nɒˈstaldʒə|
noun [ mass noun ]
a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past: I was overcome with acute nostalgia for my days in prison.
• something done or presented in order to evoke feelings of nostalgia: an evening of TV nostalgia.

ORIGIN
late 18th cent. (in the sense ‘acute homesickness’): modern Latin (translating German Heimweh ‘homesickness’), from Greek nostos ‘return home’ + algos ‘pain’.

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British scientist J.D. Bernal: “[Bernal] envisioned the consummation of rationality and desire not so much as making human life better, but of transforming the human into some sort of posthuman species-being.” Bernal published a book called The World, The Flesh and the Devil in 1929, which foresaw how
[…] scientific corporations might well become independent states and be enabled to undertake their largest experiments without consulting the outside world […] The world might, in fact, be transformed into a human zoo, a zoo so intelligently managed that its inhabitants are not aware that they are there merely for the purposes of observation and experiment.

M O R E   I N F O   H E R E

I)I)I)I)I)I)I)I)I)

always more to listen to than i have time for // always worth more time than there are hours  //  always something unexpected that i can't always afford  //  always having to move forward as i glance back at the wake of invention. W8

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 C L A R I F I C A T I O N - listen here

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“We protest against recent events that claimed hundreds of Iranian lives and announce
that we will not be present at the Fajr Festival,”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   PA.APP (12) P.A.