kollektief

i’ve been listening to the pixies album doolittle album on repeat, it’s great! for some reason i’ve avoided listening to it for all these years.

things have been busy as usual lately. trying to get ready to head to boston, which i will do on saturday. no ac in the car right now, so i will perspire my way to the cool cool north. i have been totally negligent about everything i feel like. haven’t worked on photos in months and months, haven’t got my house cleaned, haven’t memorized all my songs for the set on saturday. hopefully the house will get cleaned tomorrow, and once i have room to breathe in boston i will finish memorizing and cleaning up the last of my songs.

i say, i say again, moo.

we’re going down the rabbit hole, alice

this is just to say
transatlantic moves do suck
brainmeats exhausted

current ambition:  giant wall of dentists’ neon teeth.  this must, alas, wait until one of these interviews with harvard labs pans out.

I thought this walking shopping cart kinetic sculpture was worth passing along. Sorry I don’t have more time to write what I liked about it, but really the video speaks for itself.

i found these fotos all dusty on my camera…..

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things have been busy lately! I went to detroit two weeks ago, and last weekend baltimore. i found a squishy heart there with ants all over it, i’m hoping to have a picture soon. and the american visionaries museum is amazing. monday i spent the day trying to figure out how to play my songs for feast and i came up with this. i think it’s a good example of the style i’ll try to bring, hopefully it will fit alright with what everybody else is doing. but at least i’m having an easier time playing things that sound to me like music and feel reproducible at an acceptable level of quality. mark doesn’t like all the reverb on my voice, but i like the distance of it right now, so if people think it sounds bad i’ll need more pressure to be convinced.

mourn children for the lost toys and playmates
          for those we have thrown to the dogs
mourn child for those driven to the edge
mourn for every minute marked by another cigarette
          for smoke that measures the length of a life
mourn for moments left scattered to dry in the sun
          for the whims of fantasy and whimsy blown out of every bleached brain pan

mourn for every baby sleeping in ignorant peace
whose angels and devils
too busy boiling their eggs for a sunday picnic in the park
forget the right recipe of colic to ready her for life’s last moments
last drifting moments
of panic
and mourn for our forgetfulness right up until every end