One Dog Clapping – Hills to Die On


I could write a whole essay, nay dissertation, on the travails of getting this thing over the line due to PC breakdowns, temporary patches, surprise findings of old pcs in a cupboard, etc. I’m not going to, as it would be of very limited interest.

So this is the yin to The Castle is Burning!‘s yang, or vice versa, I’ve currently forgotten which one is which. I call this my positive album, whereby we find the pockets of light in the darkness that are worth living for, and thus also dying for. The tl;dr summary is: love, authenticity, dreams, banishing fear, and variations on those themes.

Once I’ve adapted to changed settings (for which credit and huge thanks go to my friend Chris Hall), I will get on with the next in the series, which should be Alternarratives.


Bonnacons of Doom – self titled


Everything happened at once. I couldn’t make sense of it all so I split it up into a series of events that seemed connected, which I tried to experience in succession in the hope that this would render it sensible, but the information was still too intense, so I fractured myself into myriad perceptual units so as to take in one little fragment at a time, but even these chunks were unmanageable so I had to imagine new and unheard of angles from which to perceive so as to widen the scope of the possibilities unto almost infinity as far as I could make out. Even then, I had to get the separate units to reproduce themselves at regular intervals, and still the information kept on coming. Indeed, it seemed it was expanding to fill every perceptual space I was creating. I needed to think of a new format.

Indian Jewelry – Peel It


I left my rainbow in my pocket
I forgot to pack it away
It ended up in the wash
And now the colours have run
I can’t use that rainbow anymore

I left my rainbow on the ceiling
I didn’t make it safe
Now somebody’s been in
And painted over it
We can’t see that rainbow anymore

I left my rainbow in the sky
I thought it would be safe there
But someone blew a hole in one end
Graffiti’d up the other
You can’t use that rainbow anymore

I left my rainbow in the closet
And I don’t know what you’re talking about
I haven’t got a closet
And there’s no such thing as rainbows

Our Solar System – Origins


You’re only dead once

The only way forward is backwards

Can you call someone blind if they don’t see what they’re not looking for?

All that I do know is all that you know
As I was saying to myself the other night

Waiting for the punchline so that we can die laughing

She walked through the hall like an earthquake
I could tell things were about to get real

This time I decided to err on the side of gluttony

If you want to win the war on drugs, destroy all humans
oh, that’s what you’re trying to do

Seeing as it’s my blood, I suppose I should clear it up

Melanie De Biasio – Lilies


So I was looking in the mirror, again
it’s a (bad) habit I have
something new was there today
my reflection seemed to be talking
yet I remain still
I leaned closer, to try to hear

It was an apology
by analogy
for a crime that couldn’t be committed
after all
what I’ve already given you cannot be stolen

So I replied to my reflection
who remained graciously still as I spoke
If I accept your apology
I imply that it is necessary
yet if I refuse it
I deny what you have offered

Dearest mirror
you are not cracked
it is the eyes that perceive you that I question
because they doubt what they see
yet what else could they see?


Fink’s Sunday Night Blues Dubs


Gambling for life, then.
Sounds dramatic, does it not?
but if we broaden our definition out to a bigger one
than a mere chemical reaction with added respiration and awareness
then maybe it has more utility as a concept
Is not life a pathway?
What if that pathway should seem blocked?
Then the traveller must decide on a course of action:
remain at the blockage
choose a different pathway
remove/overcome the blockage
The latter is a direct combat, which is a gamble
The first is yielding, or biding time, but always a gamble
But the second is the biggest gamble although it requires travelling in order to know
and the blockage may follow, if it be perceptual

In many ways, words are judgements. The label is a judgement. Yet judgement is an incomplete process; the true goal is understanding. Understanding is much harder, as it may mean the assimilation of uncomfortable perceptions that would prefer to be ignored, hence why it is so easy to stop at judgement.
The attempt to understand is a gamble, as you may end the world as you know it when you understand it.
The good news is that it will be replaced by a more coherent one.


Fruit & Flowers – Drug Tax


As if by magic, the floor was clean. Kevni was a fairly average specimen for a lifeform of his ilk, though moderately and comparatively more powerful than his brethren, for reasons not immediately obvious. This was because his ancestors had ballooned into this sphere several significant generations ago and now Kevni and his kin controlled all they surveyed, progressing the natives according to a thing they called a doctrine, whereby one must always seek constant growth of an imaginary consequence. Now, whilst the average reader might immediately grasp the possibilities of implementing such a philosophy for a predominantly spiritual quest, and indeed some families did indeed follow this path, the overall outcome was the most influential were Kevni’s forbears who established what you might term a monopo-fucking-ly and controlled much of the communication. They playfully allowed different modes of conduct within their framework, worded in such a way as to seem intractably opposed when their intended ends were still the same, and these usually resolved into seeming dichotomies of one system demanding that all worked together centrally controlled toward a supposed group growth, whilst their ‘opponents’ utilised the same small number of elite although they made them appear as if they were changeable, and these could then use their people in a much more insidiously exploitative manner. But the object of both was to grow, and grow they did, so Kevni’s dynasty was happy. Naturally, this became troublesome to their landscape, which acted as though irritated. Eventually a glutinous fog descended their world, slowly at first, then gradually more thickly and menacingly. Naturally, there were varied explanations. Those in favour of the perpetual growth model said it was symptomatic of something called a ‘climate change’ and urged everyone to buy replacement products that were ‘environmentally-friendly,’ which actually had no effect on the fog but allowed more of a substance called ‘money’ to change hands ultimately into the hands of Kevni and the gang. Others claimed that the fog was just part of a cycle in the environment that would happen anyway, species-led or not, and that they should just sit it out and not give in to any of this scare-mongering tactics. However, the fog really was quite toxic, and eventually they all died fighting each other for the last habitable bits of land that had resources for living off, which eventually dwindled to none. Not even the family Kevni survived.
Kevin had just applied a cream to a troublesome spot on his shoulder which had begun to bother him recently.