Baby what a shame!
Baby what abrasion!
This is not a game,
DissociATIIOONNN!!!
DISSOCI A A A A A A TION TIONN!!!
A A A A A A TION TIONNN!!!
$$
This is gonna take a bit of effort. Bear with me. Are you bearing with me?
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
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.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .
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.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
That looks bad! That looks really bad. Oh well.
$$
(A ticking metronome sways with phronesis-resembling impulse. Between manne and pianos
lies a painting of a red horse, a painting of a dead horse, a placed-by-hand 260-glass-rod
chandelier, a salt lamp, and a signed vinyl of "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea". This
conversation begins at an earlier point and follows an already entangled relation, but the
coroner could not piece together anything beforehand, so now you're just left to guess. He
believes this is what they call "Miseralia".)
(flickers his brows You don't get it. It doesn't sound (I just can't take it here anymore.
by rubbing salt anything like that music you're so much disrespect every day,
on the eternnial talking about. I don't know who and I don't even get paid!
wound pro- "Wilco" is, or are, or have been, It's all a joke. I'll wake up soon.)
-lapsed from prior but clearly you don't understand
injustice) what I'm really alluding to here.
This is really simple. You should
be embarrassed that I have to
even explain it to you. Let's put (On first thought, I thought I would
it this way. In the greatest year not particularly love the aeroplane,
on this earth, which, we'll say at but I hugged it tight and Holland
the same time, one, two, three: welcomed me with love.)
2011 1870
...
(laughs and How?
laughs, for crying 1870?
would be like Can you name me a single good thing that happened in 1870?
staging a mound Are you a big fan of the Franco-Prussian war? What's going on
operation like, like, here? Have you completely lost your
Cóndor? he wraps his poor fingers around his brain, mind? Do you wanna
trying to remember the real name of the operation, see what they were getting up to in the
but like, who even knows? And what's even the f- the, the uh, (Fuck...)
relevance of American murder? Forced FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR. I said it
structuralized right the first time! I don't know why I
impotent even doubted myself.
undaringly Isn't that lovely? Isn't that beautiful?
grotesque Have you ever witnessed a murder?
m u r d e r ?) If you were alive in 1870, I think
you would've witnessed a lot more than a murder. May'
two? Maybe three? Maybe four? Do you know
how to count? Do you want to learn how to count?
I'm getting really sick of
talking (I thought of murder
t o twice, didn't I?)
y o u
y o u k n o w ?
(Lightheaded. Throat closing in) I... give me a rest, will you.
(My doctor, he comes in, busts
through the door, all for no good
reason, and he's yelling at me,
and he says, "Look, you've got
(Quite miserable gagging.) Misophonia.") (And, I don't know
what that is, so I try to get him to
tell me more, but he refuses, and
eventually I start getting real dizzy
and feel my throat closing in, just
like what's going on now.) (But,
(Helplessly abandoned as the door closes.) there's no doctor now, it's just me
and the worst pretender I've ever
seen, so, am I going to die in this
place? Even the thought of that
makes me feel worse...) (I think
some people are terribly terribly
(In resting place...) incapable of thinking.) (I was g...
(In resting place...)
(In resting place...)
(In resting place...)
$$
"I came home on Tuesday and found all of the chairs that I own stacked in a tower in the
center of my kitchen. I don't know how long they had been like that but it can only be me that
did it. It's the kind of thing a ghost might do to prove to the living that he is still there. I am
haunting my own apartment."
$$
Yesterday, before fully falling asleep, I had a dream I had already lived through long ago.
There is nothing I remember of this dream right now. (I guess the editor is not used
In recent time I have been made to play and experience a to so much weird formatting,
lot of things beyond my comfort, which stemmed from years given how much it's lagging
of closing myself in, as though to not do so would imply a every time I input anything!)
sure death of some sort. I've been trying to break away from being a completely hidden and
rotten person lately and although it's all hard and scary I have been attemptedly reassured
time and over that "it'll all be okay." (I remember maybe last decade I finished this
album, "Runescape Dream", about a relation
If I were given another chance at this thing, I went through that changed the course of my
I would really like to try out life in the trades, life forever. Making that album was no easy
or something else physical like that! In this task! It took me seven painful years, much
life I spent most of my time dwelling by inspired and derived from whoever I was into
computers and all sorts of these post-haste through those years, through which I discovered
inventions of the 20th and 21st century. myself and eachother. To say that I was at any
set of two days there, "the same person", would
I would have liked to enjoy carpentry. be a really sad lie. Tragedy. Miseralia.) (This
whole remembrance of Runescape Dream
comes from some of the last lyrics on the album,
which say, simply,
It'll take some time
But somewhere down the line
It'll all be good
It'll all be alright
It'll all be better next year.
and although it did not get better the year after,
or the next,
or the next,
or the next,
or...
...the next, it was wishful thinking that kept me
going for all this change. You know?)
$$
god. god. god. god. god.
god. god. god. god.
god. god. god. god.
god. god. god. god.
god. god. god. god.
god. god. god. god.
take me out of this!
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