Undoubtedly my choices of titles, especially in this case, do me no favors in pursuit of listeners. In this, the first episode of 2024 (no foolin',) I talk about technical difficulties, a recording project I'm working on as part of someone else's project, and, maybe, a few other things. You'll hear me breaking down the third wall and talking to producer Marsha, who is just off camera. You'll also hear some live improvisation of paraphernalia.
Talking in my sleep, except not quite asleep. All music is by Allele Cog Experiment.
past, then now, then later. June, except it won't be June anymore.
It's 1985. Christmas morning. The kids are opening gifts, and dad's got a tape recorder sitting on the table by the lamp, recording what's going on, along with a fuckton of hiss and noise. Mom thinks everything's going too fast, and the rest of us won't truly know what that means until much, much later. Merry Christmas.
why taking portraits is not like riding a bike. Unsorted 2005.
An unclaimed parrot enunciates "enunciate" and elucerates an anthem passed on to him by KS just before he died A shining sun floats above the wind "heavy things can float it's a matter of faith," says the unclaimed parrot A smallish children with eyes like bees pollinating all he sees sees the unclaimed parrot "This parrot is mine." A children's parrot can't express the sadness at having to mold a mind as shallow as the bee-eyed children Eighty years have passed A parrot claimed and unclaimed living on through loss no teeth to lose enunciates "enunciate" A melody on a breeze under still floating sun that sighs a sigh looses magnetic hands into the wind An undying parrot Commiserates with a drunk who used to be a children with bee eyes but grew old An olden drunk with eyes no longer winged stares at rows of bottles lined up gleaming whistles with wet lips the words forgotten of a dead man's anthem he never understood what the words meant until he'd lost them An unlucky parrot stares eagerly at the man whispers to the wind "I am unclaimed, I stay unclaimed." A curious bartender rubbing ashes from the air overhears the whisper but cannot credit the bird perched in the window Parrot's eyes meet the man's say clearly "I am old, I will outlive you, believe what you will." An unclaimed parrot perches on a streetlamp elucerates his anthem off into the dark
[transcript destroyed] How do I get out of here?
{Nothing has anything to do with what we are doing, whether we’re in third person, second person, the first person, or the royal graphic display society. In the background is the sound of a loud car engine, laboring up the hill out front, perpendicular to the sound of the aquarium which is down to just the one good fish.}
It's a shame we can't rewind the tape on the elephants we missed in the room before they were gone. Missing radio stations. How to use coffee. False information and the myth that we need air. I need an envelope. Hippo laws. The difference between kinds of things. Plumbing crises. Phone message etiquette. Modern equipment complications. Ethics of phone numbers, names. Prank calls. The slippery slope and burning down the neighborhood. Music by Allele Cog Experiment
you can find the description by looking inside yourself. halaka has an extended period of not knowing how many years they're going to be heard later again yet.
What happens when I try to write. What happens when I sit in a chair. What happened? Scissors Salesperson. Batteries. If you have any comments. Thank you. All music recorded and sound by. Thank you. Out of state. I am, and have always been, the mackerel. I have too many tabs open.
Incidental and less incidental music courtesy of Halaka. I did not actually have a satellite dish backpack phone when I was 70.
ephemeral podcasts some of the podcasts referenced in this episode: just the sound sound movement sound advice the vault of sound