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578> Mum's the word in the realm of the unreal, n outsider free-floating w/ no famous last 1s |
23 April, 2018 | Rome optimal modem placement next to our communecakeshuns dorector (jaguar) > So weave jus tapped INT. 1 of a zillion forms of electromagnetic waves flooding our attic nvironment, mind-boggling to think of all them wireless, wifi, telephone, radio, TV, etc. signulls circulating thru the air, Shirley all dis cuntinuous flood of EM radiation must half FX on us? Speakin of... a confluenze of forzes has maid us start to here voices this past week... 1) = dat our allergees have bin bad these past few weeks, day was never bad hear in Roma b4 so dont no watts goin' on, may-b all dis rain? 2) = dat weve bin recording/playin' back music w/our hedfones maxed out on volume 11. Or 3), perhaps we's goin' loco. The «voices» we here r a d-layed risponse to noizes in hour mediate nvironment, music, peephole tocking, seagulls, churchbells, fasciscts screamin' down in piazza venezia, etc. all jumbled + d-laid ½ a secund + a semitone or 2 lower + flattened, almost like dares liddle critters on hour rite sholder harmonizing thru a d-lay petal, wich = wierd cuz hits the x-act affect we often muster to a'cheve when we record guitar + in the a'proach we take w/ riding liarics we muster knot to interject melodee, but jus think/hum in our noggin a monotone vershun dat matches da rhythm. The writ hymn. Well, if the antswear = #3—dat we's goin cray cray—then dis blogject = a dogumeat of dat process, how we endid up in dis hear looney bin. How dose 1 no if they's goin' in sane inny weigh? From hour p.o.v. seams the rest of el moondough = certifiably loco. A raving lunatic = prezident of the countree we defected frum aft'r all, «leader of the free world». «What are u tryin' to say, I'm crazy?! When i went to Your schools... Your institutional learning facilities?» We hearing dat song amongst menny echoing in the jumbled mass of electromagnetic radiation floodin our noggin 24/7, aint no x-caping hit... when actshoally what we listening 2 = Chopin, on vinyl. Did we menshun we god a record playr the utter day @ porta portese? We also god a reel-2-reel thinkin' wed make sum loops (sum real 1s, not dem digitoll cop-outs) but cant git her 2 work. Bud weave maid a few cassette loops + halve bin using the turntable (spinnin' manuel w/ our mano) on sum of the new toons we's workin' on. We god almost an albumen wurth of new material laid down but not nearly reddy to share nun of dat, still godda cunvince our bedder-½ to sing our messedup liarics. Bud may-b wheel share hear a draft of sum of the liarics-in-progress cuz by the time she chants them shure shell halve to sing sumpin Ls. Here's a # we did the utter day, perhaps the loony toon dat started to make us hear voices: No Famous Last Words + here's the chords, dat we rote down in case we shod forget: Dat's the kind of junk we've bin riding lately, input-wise bin reading In The Realms of the Unreal : Insane Writings. We god it mostly cuz we was looking for a copy of Henry Darger's 15,000 pg novel... not ez to come by bud this book—named for Darger's book actshoally—inklewds a short xcerpt... not dat Darger = certifiably insane like the rest of the folk in the book, at least knot dieagnosed as such. But he must of bin coo-coo for cocoa cocoa puffs to due what he did, rite? Intresting tho, the writings dat comes out of regalure crazy folk dat aint riding to bee famous, mustering to be «artists», but just a natural xpression of their mind-states deemed mentolly unfit by society standurds, but in alternate vu perhaps hyper-tuned to alturnet freakwindseas... sum of hit comes off a bit like xcerpts from sum looney bin workshop, wherein orderlies egged on the payshints to xpress themselfs thru writing for therapeutic reasons... specially the Amerikin sexion (the book gits divied by cuntree) they all seam to be payshints at the same nuthouse in Vermont. The utter cuntrees stuff tho much mo intresting then the Amerikins (xcept mayb Darger). Echo sum xcerpts dat stood out:
Adolf Wölfli... who b-sides being a great rider also painted + cumposed music (1 of the 1° brut artists)
Aimable Jayet
nada = none about this author xcept they went by pseudonym «Marmor»
by Hyacinth Baron Von Wieser (part of the Prinzhorn collection)
August Klett (also from Prinzhorn collection, need to git our hands on a copy of dat seminal book) Godstuff.We git a lot mo xcited reading such txts by schizos then humdrum dribble churned out by run-of-the-mill MFA stewdents dat's fo shore + as an «outsider» hour self dat dint study art in shcool, feel mor in commune w/ these nutcases then L art moondough. May-b cuz we = crazy, hoo nose, we god the luckshorey of not living in fear of bean locked up, uv inhabiting a safe,conducive nvironment ware we = free 2 sumwatt function all we god todo is not burn down ill attico when we cook + cake tare of ourself + our bedder-½, wich may-b we aint so good at no mo (taking care of ourself) thawt may-b we was but sines of where + tear starting toshow (damnspacebarisstickingagainso really haveto pound hit to get aspace) like we wint to useour phone + discovered we =completely def in our rite ere! Can onelie here if we switch the phone to our left. Sumpin todo w/these allergees probly n ear infection, hopefooly hit gose aweigh on hits one a chord but scary momint nuntheless 2 discover u cant here shit in 1 ear. Our I-site alreadys goin to hell. Sew them echoes we hearing in our noggin probly the voxes travelling into our left ear +thru all the fluid collectin up dare, then reseived by the rite side. Weave had outtatownguests thisweekend so musterin' to act |
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577 <( )> 579 > A Sisyphean search for Mt. Analogue in the South Seas: flashing back to Fiji 1990 | |
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