preface: these words are nothing of consequence. or are they....
i have a serious bone to pick when individuals make beautiful things and are themselves beautiful. in the face. that is. mileece, is an example of this phenomena. i just got a lot of titillating music. my mouth waters. also, i think i may need to be medicated. what's the cure for hypochondria? were i ever to make an album, i might call it "mouth sore", but probably not. maybe i'd call it "fake cancer". hah. that's funny to me. does anyone remember "fake carl the cat"? probably not. i had forgotten until about fifteen minutes ago that green tea is awesome. Automaton.
"once upon a midnight, in the planet land of X, a young boy being lay dreaming."
i've taken my things, and come to the algebra tea house. there is something very specifically different about writing outside your own home. and despite the fact that i have nothing dire to say, this feels very pleasant, and i needed to do it.
"an electric blue glow seemed to fill his heart like star light. not moving. not wanting to destroy the moment."
when i was in mississippi, i did this every day for months. i feel like i used to have something to say. presently, i feel very cluttered. like a junk drawer. i'm sure there's some really useful or at least interesting things inside me, but i can't find them. they're hidden under lots of confusion and fear probably. i never saw myself as a fearful person before, but i do now. that's kind of sad. we will have to do something about that, shan't we. cigarette. the amazing sound of orgy. i love it when that bass hits.
"nothing made any sense. what did it mean? it's important. it has a meaning!"
tiredness creeps on masculine feet. and grabs a hold with heavy hands. of course i might think to myself that lethargy and death might be the same thing. of course. there will always be a day of reckoning. eventually if not today. it seems that on another hand i sleep in order to avoid thought, and therein ignore death and reckoning. my penance. my self-imposed earthly purgatory. the days are days are days. and it is always what it is, nothing more, only speculation. i am fine. and if not, will be.
"for that was the young boys name. end."
it's time for a thunderstorm, children.
6 comments:
who does that song, i cant remember and its killing me. i know its not daedelus, but its something like that. the whole automaton are you an android or are you a quasar. please let me know if this is even what you are talking about.
it is in fact daedelus. from the album "invention", track #3. i don't know what it's called. who are you. android or quasar?
For anyone who's into that sort of thing, one of the samples behind the madness is called "Autumn in New York" an old jazz standard, I believe taken from a Command Allstars recording "Persuasive Percussion Volume 3". Oh yeah and the Daedelus song is called "Astroboy"
interesting.
Thank you Anonymous, whoever you are! Thanks to you, I'll submit it to WhoSampled!
Thank you Anonymous, as your tip led me to the source of a winding river that had evaded me for several years.
In brief, a techno-trance mix started with a narrative that contained this article's title. Searching for Astroboy by Daedelus on YouTube led me to a comment mentioning the spoken word from that song (much of which is contained in the aforementioned narrative) was from a song by Cris Williamson, and that led me to the end result of it being "a science-fantasy fable" named Lumuière.
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