On par with cursive aspersions, have a taken dwell on this rind fistula: once thither, you'll find that occasionally we will be widening said repository of half-wipes and handy wits by adding beacons of nonesuch blather for sole transportive means of pursed lip perversion. As scene on the TP, these momentary fluctuants may change, wrangle, and smear genes like a horseshoe fly in amber, so rake thine hair and travel loosely on over. Guano!
Furthering that particular manifest chestimony, this resulted in concurring acrid stanzas, the kind seen on the television back when two shits were leavened in a sour low heat rise; but most of us were toweled with a. moist. lot., this sedge twine which rubbed heavy misses in a minus ocean seeing spout, lurid uninspired but with a twitch un-still, an insipid inscisor gnawing not on the only less hake chimerical hate rogaine (caps, usually maroon) (in flavor), butt-width hence, a t-plus flooring or lathe cut ship lapsing oolong trial (sign us up!). Click it ________ here or licht lightbulbs _________ thither (ps: even if you cannot.)
Our pals at the Alien Buddha Press have given the green light on this unflappable critter, which is to say, yes, friends, behold (the end must be near) : the aforementioned collaboration with Marcel is now available, all 84 pages of it, and it even has a title, "I woke up unflappably counterfeited". Said collection can be unearthed in two formulaic channels: by simply dashing off a cheerful (or at least interesting, er, encouraging (?)) email to me, or, pursuing portals unmentionable, ie., thee amazons. Nevertheless, we've done the hard part so all ye have to do is click the link-encoded-picture below.
Ahh, the grin of new limbs and sensorial deviousnesses. We've been tinkering away on a number of varied audio components and gigglery for the better part of this spring, usually late Sunday evenings (if you want the specifics). The following promethean ghouls now avail themselves at our shop hosted by the Etsy corporation. Sneaky peaks can find precursors below (we'll feature vignettes with fewer dancing pixels in the near future).
Well, well, and further wellsprings.
Whether or not the matter is of concern, well (?), we've engaged a little button called the SSL Certificate for this website. For those not in the know (which until recent times included us), the SSL thingie-doo is an extra wedge of security. While browsing websites and whatnot, that HTTPS heading (located at the beginning of a domain name) indicates which pages are safe; it also helps yer digits navigate cookies, bungie-jumpers, implementing per-usual avoidance practices which deter nefarious tracking biscuits. In a nutshell, it was kind of an eye-opener (not the Clockwork Orange kind, but also not-too-dissimilar), as to how many awful bastions of crumb tracers existed herein. So, we're doing what we can to eliminate. Rest assured, our intentions here in the sedimentary layers of programming and code problematization care not one wet whistle about your viewing habits or selling yer spores to the fascists.
We decided to ramp things up (somewhat) with a new thought dispenser series. It all went down at Wonder Valley Experimental 11, so please click the pic if ye wanna have a look. It was a fine evening (and sizable stage) where the scrolls were free to do their cascading, oft aloft, other times, much akin to a ticker tape machine (with an endemic hiccup aberration). As an addendum, and likewise in service of this thematically-inclined resurgence of duh-conceptualism in our feverish spring fortitude, an instructional video antecedent (ie., right wing angry uncle at the holiday dinner table) is also stuffed in there, wicked soft, sort of like an ogre, but with less "grr" and more "o-god-no-not-him-again".
Speaking of Kleenex-wearing-mossbacks, our latest thirty minute cassette installment, "Allied Ogre Softness" is available for purchase! Simply utilize the dude below with a button press and follow the prompts...
We've had a number of goes at podcasting for over a decade. Not that we had any grand informative belief systems to convey or a burning itch to interview our best friends, the thrill of podcasting was always this idea that one could become one's own radio station, meaning, record-and-play-back-whatever-sounds-happened-to-be-concurrent-with-the-temporary-autonomous-zonal outlook. Back in the Myspace daze, there was a sturgeony rendering of a sort called "Ergonomic Disc Tenderly" out on Podomatic. When that went away, or rather, boredom took over, formats changed, nobody gave a shirtless shirk, the next emergence was a more thoughtful patter going by the title, "Codcast for P". This one had a decent run, spooling out a handsome handful of full length collage fritters on Mixcloud right up until a couple years ago; and at the same time was supplemented by burp-n-fart record-everything-on-your-iPhone thingie-hoo going by the name, "Portable H & Lair", which had its own separate intermittent gasps on Spreaker. But dammit, quick as a furtive wink, passwords go away, formulas once again transform, and worse for the wear, information simply disappears. What's a person to do? Don't look back too poetically; fast forward to the perpetual state of shoulder shrugs and keep on with the deeds. And so dear husophone, gaze thy nodules towards this latest entry into digitizing our schlupst. We hope it hears you well!
Working on a thought dispenser as a means of sidestepping certain digital tendrils. 100% analog, mind you, although not entirely secure from attributes spawn from the corporeal realm, what with all this talk of near-ubiquitous penetrative instances and incursions of a most nefarious hue and cumber, dew droplets, whatnot, sour dispositions, tiny classified mads, certain spoils inferred, ie., topical (implied), whether indicated elsewhere on pages prior, a priori, poster pried, oh and rent.
Currently boiling these tubers into needless hems. That being said, smirks do their curtain calls at some of the cacophony rearing up from the orchestrated pitting. Here's an instructional we'll never actually be able to replicate, at least under any duress.
And this little moot has been finding friends in pitch decay.
Fair sails and mercantilism!
Behold the Mini Mono SP, now available for consumption on our Etsy shop. This contact mic is very much along the similar dance steps of its forebears & rotor-rooters, the Plug SP, Plug Ugly, et al; this time marrying a terminal input of the 3.5 mm variety. Application-wise, the Mini Mono's usefulness speaks truths beyond appearance, hailing from the netherworlds of monophonic cassette recording to neverlandish eurorack noodle-dom & spaghetti wrestling.
Click the pic for a look at this rook.
In keeping with the nonsense, older less-sensical mussels more than unlikely needn't their hay in the pun. By tapping the flaring nostril below, we assure you appearances into a lasting and perhaps forgettable passage of time that showered umlauts on the state of Massachusetts. And please, for a bested interference, use the plug-in friendly Firefox. All sorts of nuisance and myspace coding can worn on that velveteen habit of yours, and ours will grin a salmony.
Good gravy, that previous entry was grumpy. We're seriously not curmudgeony types herein, despite the archaic underpinnings of our namesake and/or otherwise objectionable PR campaigns, self-martyring-deterioration-proclamations, and additional ramblings and inclinations towards a decay that might be construed as negation vs. cheery. Mind you, one isn't in this to be a pollyanna nor that of a pariah, which is entirely another topic, and potentially objectionable pursuit; sort of prurient even, in its self-flagella-ish (and by that we don't mean method of propulsion), er, anyway. Point being, well past the pointed head of entry, beyond the teething and weening of milky entrance exams into this here existence, truth be told, there ain't a load of doings or boohooing's of grandiosity in which to perplex the matrix quotidian. Instead, we're chugging along. Here are a few items of soothing seance, read into that what you will.
YouTube has been given a wee boost. We tried to do it daily, now it's back to the irregular weekly here or there, meek, oblique, and other wides
SoundCloud too! Seems to be a nice way to posit some schema that pocks the E-Z upload manifest
Started working on a book with our pal, Marcel
And other schlupst ruptures happening hither and thither, in no particular order, but sort of a backlog of malfeasance & ribaldry
The last year or several, dwelling in and occasionally fleeing from the myopic lens of hereparts and thereabouts:
Summarized by algorithms, our heads have been have-been's, by in large etched in the splatter of if & when, sequenced by tides unbeknownst, with meals served on the backs of an indefatigable bad breath knell, purging up grubs with mirroring effects, ad agencies, turncoats, and bombastic sixes. We'll take nine more to the hilt, quit for a hot liquid minute, and then cast the rest for our forebears to cycle up another sabbatical neverolution...