The V-dubbed grizzzly smell of play-doh triggering a dizzying dis-order of clanging consecution


22 Oct> We was at a camp of sum sort last nite + this little girl aksed us to sniff a gnarly see-thru mushroom + we said it smelled like play-doh + dat if she cd boddle + sell dat smell she cd make boatloads of moola! Use a tagline like "1 sniff will take u back (to your childhood)". We proseeded to d-scribe in bloody d-tale the crayola stick figger drawing on the front of the play-doh cuntainer, how we REMember hit (triggered by the smell) like it was yetsirday. Then this dude in a tassled buckskin outfit was sposed to shoot a bear as it attacked us (all planned) but he missed or the rifle failed + the grizzzly came charging tward us + a bunch of kids dat took cover in a T-P butt we stood our ground, raised our arms + hollered out loud + the big bear slunk away. Then this Dañiel Boon dood (evidently the trainer/MC) he shot the grizzzly anyway, w/ a pistol since his rifle had broke... he ordered the (trained) bear to submit while he took em in a headlock + shot em point blank. When the dust cleared, the grizzzly was actually a buffalo w/ majestic nappy dreadlocks + we woke up + our pillow + hare was wet w/ sweat. 

23 Oct> Our mineareyes d-zzz was acting up yetsirday, figgered we shd be using u, deer diarrea, as a food journel to weed out triggering culprits. Well, deer diarrea, the nite before our dizzzy spell we had shrimp + green chili (did we menshun we god our 10 kg batch from Hatch, NM last mess?) risotto, witch, ok, was purrhaps salty, specially considering we always grate heaps of peccorino in her + o, Ben + Jerry's for desert witch we don't due verry often (our bedder-½ bot it). We din't halve nada to drink, bud the nite b4 we had 2 boddles of beaujolais (shared w/ our bedder-½... we was rewatching The Godfather Epic for the umpteenth time) tho we felt fine that mourning after, bud today after drinkin nada we woke up bearly able to git up outta bed or navigate our spirel stairs + our ears was a'ringing + we ain't able to here so well in our rite ear again witch sucks cuz we're fool-bore a-mist mixing our nu album, witch hmmmm, when we 1st startid devilipping mineareyes we was mixing hour 1st album, un, the prawduck of witch = cauze or a fect? Cd loud noize bee a trigger? The 8th song "seasick" on un mos def born of mineareyes d-zzz, both sonically + liarically, as are most of the trax on the nu album we're working on. In re:searching the 2nd song, "LL" (witch startid as a homage to Mary Shelley bud endid up bean more for Shelley Duvall) we came a cross snippets of an intervu w/ Duvall on Dr. Phil where she kept tripping up on curtain words, choosing palabras more as cunnective consecution tisshoe rather than 4 dare meaning + we was like Hey! Dat sounds like what we due! Evidently it's called Clanging disorder + more often then knot sintummatic of skizophrenia ore mania.... knot dat we saying we're crazy (but hay, ain't we all a bit loco?.. Drumpf is toetilly coo-coo for co-co puffs + he manedged to become the 45th precedent of the united states (of witch we ain't a pardof cuz we live in a districk)). A'cording to u, deer Inurnet, a poet rhyming ain't evidents of mentoll illness, butt "disorganized speech that impedes the patient's ability to communicate is a disorder in itself, often seen in schizophrenia." So guess the quesstshun is, deer diarrea, dose she m-pede our abillydad to communeacake? Hit ain't a disorder if u embrace her. B-sides, we god the luckshorey of bean able to bee coo-coo, callus a funkshunall nutcase. And we can cuntroll our clanging if need bee, or at least weave prooven we halve in the past, riding + editing granmatticaly carwreck books + working in L reel moondough as an information architect. Mineareyes d-zzz tho... sumtimes we wander if we god cuntroll ova her... ain't no ream or rhyson to watt triggers our dizzzy spills.... hoo nose, cd bee the whether (lots of rein lately + high/lo pressure sistems), butterflies in Singapour cauzing tornahos in Kansas. 1 thing we perty curtain about is she boils down to moderation + consistentsea. Hit ain't so mush a bout eating no salt or alcahole or all them things the doc told us to a void so mush as ingesting in moderation. Folks w/ mineareye's d-zzz ain't able to regulate the fluid levels in their inner ear cuz of fluctuations in sodium, chloride, potassium + other electrolytes. Eating no salt gots the same fx as binjing on salt, causes these wild swings. Ditto sugar + alcahole ore really innything u eat/drink in generule... the other day we notissed we was feeling dizzy the day after we wint w/o lunch (when we was staining the fence in the backyard) then ate a big dinner to compensate, witch we tend to due a lot lately. We need to not skip meals + eat in moderation + not eat a bunch of NaCl or C6H12O6 at once but spread out thru-out the day + sane goes w/ C2H5OH—rather than not imbibe all weak like weave bin doing lately + then let yoself partake on weakends (witch u tend to drink more to compensate, like a reward mechanism) hit's bedder to drink 1-2 drinks a day. Stick to a routine, eat same amount at same times, not too mush of inny 1 thing... baysickly use commun ¢ents.

Innywaze, thx for listening deer diarrea, wheel shut up now + tock a bout art in stead of sickosomatic alemints. Wile we ain't reddy to share the above-menshunned song "LL" where we cathartickly vent a bout clanging disorder, we will leak another song off our nu album, the 1st track, called "V-dubbed". This 1 we set out to rite in homage to Virginia Wolf but it ended up being about/for our grandmothers (both named Virginia), Patty Hearst + how we was "kidnapped" when we was kids.

V-dubbed (for the childless, our grandmothers + Nick Cave)

VVhose a frayed to wade the Ouse?
river rocks waying down yo shoes
to refuse the rite to choose (the blues)
aborts us to the humun zoo

loose lips sing “cheese”
to kraft a breeze
luz the line of site
D.U.I in the light

a bare broomstick swept under downy covers
back to the wheelhouse of wind-blown lovers

the witch cries "red rover," send your Ginnys + Billy Joes over now
cross the Hatchie river to the cliffs of Dover
we’ve seen it before + more + more we’ll see it again
fathers + mothers that outlive sons + dotters

VVho ain’t a frayed of Virginia Woolf?
false grandma’s in woolen clothes
both sides virgins shrouded in rouge
the stains bled as the tail goes

the rigging comes luz on Jennifur’s Veil
raise the white flag, no bonds to bale

VVho ain’t a frayed
to wade the Hades

the fairy x-ing was a wail of a tale
from Circe’s jail cell to the wombs of hell


in the back of a ’66 VW
for a last cigarette can i bug u?
in her birthday suit under the trenchcoat
Patty Hearst doubled as her scapegoat

the rite to choose
blues over the news
drowned on Sussex downs
in a black wedding gown

he said sucsses lays around every bed coroner
onelie if you’re fortunate to bee born hear (in California)

Virginia wouldn’t bee, if she was a mother
the kids chasing tail from Cannes to Cologne

VVho ain’t a frayed
to be tried in the Hague

they call it "kid" napping tho she was 19
she came in a blue Bug while we watched Mr. Green Genes

we reserve the rite to choose
to riverse the rights of Zeus

676 <(current)>  678 > Sissyfussing 7 purrfect 10 sonic sculptures down-climbing a virgin ½-pipe w/ our granny cart
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