A bit of a summary for the year, maybe? Sit at the desk and plop horn soft paupers into rapid prattle streams... them's the moment, at least (carbuncle motiff, provided it'll acquiesce); geddit too riled and you're bound to have to go for a nicety walk/doppel-talk/and relish more trollings for 'at metaphysch that thumbs its gravy while taking the house downstairs.

Hah!
Found this little squatter in my laundry hamper and figured it was a pleasing pop antedote to some of the more dry and sublime, abstract hoo-haw that crawls to the surface hither and thither in this cast of pods.

just a wee: whilst tok-tok'ing my scrubs, it descended as apparent that the tele-huso can likewise utter her methods thru the true ears of fm...

The onset of frigid has taken over the melting topsoil these past several weeks... I find the ol' humor goes into hibernation a teensy bit; opting for more stoic options like quiet wood clatter, drone-bits, and the like... sounds for meditating around the wood stove with a nip of bourbon or blackest coffee and scrunched-up brow while pondering radio static and tree houses.

Hmmm. Now and again ya gotta flush out the brown. This one licks the bowl clean!

Yes well, a bit of a diatribe. You run around and tug on things and some people (well, most, to be honest) don't care, nor do you about them: that's just the way amongst men and minstrels and ministers and administrators. I live in a spectacle of a place where Floridians come by summer in the droves, and by winter, leave us with empty hulls and husks and the quiet rot of Vacationland. So I make these videos and sounds and run-arounds as a template for tossing at their shadows and laughing at all the pretty pieces the broken glass makes. There you are, ol' boy. I wish though that you and me, we were kin.

Ol' Jaco was a hick rag dagger. He'd gawk at his three-cornered head and gloam red gloats with tea tree stings lashing at his hair sock, still lying on the floor like a poor pajama. It was bad, man and lady friends, real badge. So here's his tale as of late, in delightful video spill.

Some pals of mine in the next town over (which a' be Brunswick, Maine), have this house with a basement with a smattering of instruments, broken instruments, gutted things, objects, objections, and grins. Once a month or so they hold a pow-wow involving said basement, operating under the moniker, Bad Bus... so here's a delicious build-up-and-bruiser with the buncha' us, having had sips of booze and enduring all that rancor on this last past Election Day. Who was there... Alyce, Ryan, & Joni (who did all the banging & shaking & donging); Matt (on trumpet (?) and that's DEFINITELY his yell!), Adam (& his theremin), and my nervous guitar. Whooot!

aaaaaaaaaand ye sit late at night, rain thumping sideways; you will act accordingly (love on the inside)... this blasted thing, digger-knit on the vinyl sidings, taking it and putting it somewhere else... intriguing

The genuine article: recording when no one is looking... what could be better? Andrew & Jacob (of Gastric Female Reflex), Philip (of Monopolka), and myself spent a few weeks in August 2006 doing a Benelux tour together. In between shows, in addition to drinking and merriment and felafel stands, we'd wander the cobblestone streets together with our walkman cassette recorders. Here's a chunk from my handy panasonic stereo machine. Analog. Crude. To you. With love.

Awww fuggit, here's another-- as follow-up to the Suntag piece (which has a fatter, happier uncle feel compared to this one). Explanation? Bah. I was dosed up on the high wind, so I made this one today after the power came back on, rather elated (made me wanna hit things). Ye shoulda' seen the ocean, man. Smunch!

allegory man, allegory... keep those commas coming: you sit atcher desk, grab bits and particles, letters from your mom, a found tape, a bit of head-rub, some squaaaa, a little rumble-box, and there's ye jimmy.

glips and speak-easy's, home identity tips (upon building a dream home-type analysis); bemoaner mantra (and tick)... 2004

When the warms comb over, one goes for trundles, occasionally putting neon-glens and isotopes into the fiber; tasty-when-says? Ohio, papple, Harpsie, tide-high/pause. Oye. Oyes.

this form of relating to one another is habit forming