Still in the office building, piles of fake flesh glowing all around me, my sense of fear becomes more acute. Outside, the darkness grows in stillness. Los Aggressivos from the revenge camp are killing the remaining virgins stranded outside of the complex. I can’t hear their terrible virgin death yelps through the thick glass planks that stand from floor to ceiling. (I must be on the 40th floor. Maybe I am up higher…. ) Screaming out their final words as blood spurts out of their youthful teary eyes to the little DX10s piled up all around them. They cry and woah to entrust themselves as the delicate threads of faint, barely remember-able history. Nodding off to sleep, their heads bowed to “Our quickly fading memories”, our dull minds hard at work in the fallow fields. The gift of a final desperate act of reproducing the self…… it is not given before the end.
At last I finish attending to the last of the pile of screamers, and I set the last possible baby of the day down to sleep in his or her fork bath [bin]. Careful not to wake the massive forking flocks, I quietly twittle-twaddle out of the tall leaning office building into the refreshing ever-darkening forest with the peculiar shape. I consider heading back to The Filthy Xalamander to try my luck at the table with Health Bag before Swan wins her over. Alas!! There are now more pressing errands at hand. I will, of course, need to make a quick stop over at Harry Partch’s Torture & Suicide Dungeon. I will, of course, need to take a deep swim in Harry’s great sea of blue to cool my swollen head. I will, of course, need to purchase seven coconuts and small stash of fluffed cotton. Wrapping the fruit together with the crushed eggshells, all of it deployed in a .war file along with plenty of red palm oil and just a touch malware. All this hoo-ha could be accomplished in a relatively short time because Partch’s place just so happens to be in the same neighborhood as the leany office. Generally speaking, the virgins dislike logistical complications, even if the matter has nothing at all to do with them. Unfortunately, as we all know too damn well, those bastards are holding all the cards in this game.
As it turns out, this day happens to be Marianne Sweep’s birthday. Marianne Sweep is a high priest and he works closely with his brother General Motors, a highly regarded devotee. Supposedly, the 2 of them were waiting for me in front of a convenience store over on the other side if the forest, perhaps to celebrate. [This is also part of the errands]. The walk from Partch’s to the Store could have been 10 miles or more, but it is hard to tell when I don’t have any of my equipment with me. We cannot take any computers or hardware along with us when we die, so it makes sense not take it along for walks in the forest.
After many hours of walking, I finally arrived at the store. There appeared to be damage to the front of the store from small arms fire and the hue of the glowing neon sign was somewhat imperfect (it read “CONVENIENCE”). The people I needed were not there. There were others, but these people were imperfect. The guy at the counter suggested I check for my friends at Walgreens ( a competing store ) or just “shove off” if I “wasn’t going to watch him do anything, anyway”. I did not have time for Walgreens and I did not need to have a present for Marianne. Not having time meant my search for the brothers would have to be ‘left’ in an imperfect state [like West Virginia, LOL]. Speaking of ‘left’, I ‘left’ in a hurry without waving goodbye or giving any kind of kiss to the guy at the counter.
After several years of negotiations with those dead-ass virgins (with no heritage to speak of) it was finally agreed that I could leave the forest as long as I returned before the sunrise. But before I made my way out of the forest for good, I stopped back over at Partch’s Dungeon to see if I could catch up with the guys, but Marianne Sweep and General Motors did not show up. I figure that they are probably too drunk to drive anywhere at this point. Harry Partch, the infant, waddled over to me holding a Yamaha DX10 drenched in blood. Harry shouted right in my face: “LISTEN UP, BRO!! We’re changing the name now to ‘The Dig-Out’… so tell your stupid-ass friends. I don’t want any mistakes…. I don’t want anyone getting it wrong. And next time I see you…..uhh…. nevermind”. Harry grumble-ingly goose-stepped away. I wonder if he is plotting to kill me???
With all this new information, I need to make the long trek back to “CONVENIENCE”. Despite all of this crap, and that which has proceeded the crap, it is irrationally important that Marianne Sweep dies on his birthday. This is a serious issue because the death of a high priest on the wrong day can have negative consequences. This rule doesn’t necessarily mean he would have to die today on THIS birthday, as the high priest actually has the power to change his birthday around and things like that. I am just wondering if he will need help with that ceremony today or not. In a vicious state of worry, I sing out loud a song. I get through several tumultuous verse as I complete my purchase in the humming white light of The Convenience. With my newly purchased items, I pipper-papper back over again to the freshly named: “The Dig-Out” for one last look for the 2 brothers, before executing my leave from the forest.
(The brothers are not there)
Over time, my negotiations with the virgins has grown smooth, like a well planned murder. We quickly agree on terms and I happily exit the forest. Sometimes I wonder if I am actually in the wrong career. I might have been a great policy analyst… or perhaps an analyst of something else…..
I jigger-jagger over to The Dirty Xalamander where everyone is still hanging out. I arrive just in time for the show to begin. I am a volunteer Native Bower, and I am a little bit late. The Bowers are normally supposed to be there an hour or two before the show to prepare the rituals. Coffee pot is managing the show and Swan Von Solo stabs me in the teeth with a squirty nipple and he sneers “I trust you have been getting the signals?”. Staring at this bro square in the teeth I harshly respond, “Yes, Swan, I have received each of the messages on my flip phone but my choice to ignore them is well documented by multiple credible sources”. Swan snears at this in disgust. He pulls on the rear of the nipple until it is fully dislodged from my teeth. Blood squirts from my pulsating teeth out over a huge pile of yahamaha dx10s. Harry Partch, standing inconspicuously in the corner, raises one eyebrow as soon as he hears the delicate sound of tooth-blood smacking against the tiny white keys.
I love a good show. Unattractive beer label art, vacant men, obtuse women, cheap art music, etc. etc. There is no possible way to lose when you are at a show. It is kind of like Vegas. Everyone drops a dx10 or two in one of a couple of piles that are forming towards the front of the stage. There will be ceremonial conflagration later. The show today is dedicated to the 4 Great Gods of sound, as described below:
We all stare towards the stage in anticipation. The DJ inhales the last section of his gigantic cigarette and stubs the butt right on the record he is playing. No remorse. No regret. No complaints from any of the families either (…. interesting! ). A portly woman next to me confesses that she is uncomfortably aroused by the scene. This is gearing up to be a night to remember, for whatever remembering is worth these days. All things will eventually be forgotten. We can remember everything that has previously happened. I choose to continue on…..
I proceed to order myself “A Practical Longstocking” with ice. The 7 bartenders all work feverishly to deliver my drink in under a minute of time. As soon as I receive the glowing drink, I close my swollen eyes, whistle the sacred names of the 4 Great Gods, then, finally, I dump the contents of the drink all over my past.
(Obviously all ingredients are supposed to be fresh and organic and expensive. Obviously.)
a pair of eggs (for later…)
2 cans chickpeas (garbonzo)
Sesame Tahini sauce (approx. 16 oz) (a can)
A Fatty Garlic Bulb
1 Bundle of fresh parsley
Virgin Olive Oil
Cumin Seeds (*or spice)
A “nub” of turmeric root (**or spice)
A “nub” of ginger root
1 bundle cilantro
*IF not fresh cumin seed, THEN dried ground cumin spice
**IF not fresh root turmeric, THEN dried turmeric spice
Red Chilli Pepper
Cutting board and cutlery
Blender / food processor
Bowls for keeping things
Tupperware for keeping thing later
Frying Pan + lid or something
Cut lemons in half (you will use the juice)
ALSO, cut of some peel out for the ZEST
Chop the garlic, herbs, roots and seeds so that they are easy on the blender/f.p.
Blend/Process in 2 steps to maxx out the flavor
1.) Blend the Garlic, lemon zest, herbs, seeds, and roots. Add a little olive oil and lemon juice to make it blend better. Blend into a paste.
2.) (do not clean the blender yet ! You Jerk!!!!) Blend the chickpeas with the remainder of the lemon’s juice and a touch of olive oil. Blend to a paste
In a big bowl, add the 2 blended mixtures together with the full bottle/can (16 oz) of sesame tahini. Add your spices to taste. If you did not add seeds, make sure you go heavy on the cumin because this is a primary flavor).
Also, the more salt and hot pepper you add, the longer your hummus will stay good. These spices will help preserve the foods.
Mix really well and throw that bad baby boy in the fridge. Flavor will congeal over the night for a punch in the face the next day.
The next day
Wake up feeling refreshed. Calm, well rested. You are ready to take on the world
1.)Fry little globules of hummus in a covered pan. You might use coconut oil on the pan, or a little olive oil. MAYBE EVEN BUTTER. WHO CARES???
2.)Fry a pair of eggs. Make em runny. DO IT RIGHT.. Don’t mess it up.
3.)On your plate the runny egg will mix with the little hummus fritters. Holy Yum. Now you are drinking coffee. A little hot sauce will do as well…. yes… yes this is how it is now done. Teach your children this way.
Star Wars: Machete Order
Written by Rod Hilton
Logic Pro X is sucktastixxx. Using custom GUIS makes is marginally better. Using custom icons is like putting up cheesecake photos of women draped suggestively over sexy, sexy Datsun Z280s on the wall of your mechanic’s garage.
Here’s where they’re at:
Logic Pro X > Show Package Contents
They’re .tiffs w/ 5 sizes, 512×512, 256,128,64,32. + Alpha Channel.
They’re named instruments like, “tamborine.tiff” or “telecaster.tiff”
“That’s Sick, Bro! Great story!”
Swan Von Solo turned away from me and very quietly slammed the remainder of his Icehouse beer. Before he was all finished he managed to capture the attention of the busy bartender by using his finely tuned powers of suggestion. Swan suggested to the guy that we could “tear up the next round”. I offered a suggestion that we all order Preppy Longstockings with vodka instead of vermouth, but the mood was not quite right for something that exquisite. The special tonight at the Dirty Xalamander was a pabst and shot of lower shelf whiskey for $3.50. So because that deal is hipster crap and pabst tastes like luke skywalker’s bathwater, we demanded the Icehouse Beer. Swan hooted into the air with tremendous glee, as was his custom.
Health Bag began explaining the holiday to the rest of us. Everyone listened very closely because Health Bag was a very beautiful woman and whatever she said was VERY interesting. Whatever Health Bag Says…. GOES. As she spoke, a soft jingle sounded from the curtain of bells that dangled in front if her face. The curtain of tiny bells completely hid her face, but we all knew how lovely she was beneath. None of us dared to respond in an argumentative manner, because She was very knowledgeable about her holidays and we, for the most part, were not.
The holiday had something to do with the Oxone. She told us a fable that described the bizarre circumstances that led to the creation of the Oxone. Although the reasons were very strange, we are all very lucky that the Oxone had been created and this is what we are celebrating today.
I asked Swan to hold my beer for me as I swiftly excused myself out to the restroom. As I moved through the thick crowd towards the front of the bar (away from the restroom), I reconsidered my assignment. I knew in the heart of my penis that I was doing the right thing. All of this was well planned out at some point. I stepped out of bar and walked towards a bright star that caught my attention. The star was delighted to be acknowledged and it responded by morphing a little. Somehow, I began to feel like none of it made any sense any longer. I feel like I need to get in back touch with the original plan. I started to run a little. I was not worried, because Swan would still be there when i got back. He wears a bullet proof jacket and he is a good friend. I just hope he does not realize that I am not in the bathroom. I hope that he does not wonder about what i am really doing. I hope that he continues to hold on to my Icyhouse beer.
According to Health Bag’s story, a sacrifice was normally offered in celebration on this day, however, this practice had fallen out of pocket many years ago. I admit that I had not prepared myself very well for this. I admit that I had nothing to offer. I admit that I probably could have done much better back at the bar, than out here with the calling skies and the introspective reflections, bro.
I arrived at an office building in the middle of the forest. The exact geographical middle if the entire forest, which was shaped like a hangover the next day.
“This might be the latest that i have ever worked”
I said out loud as I sat down at my desk in the nearly empty office. It is getting very dark, and i can barely see the any of the things that i had been following around before. I did not feel completely lost just yet! I began to arrange the documents on my desk. I enabled the computer by pressung the “on” button, which was shaped in the same strange shape of the forest that i was in. I realized that all the photos were fakes. The documents were all phony also.
The opening progression: Dm , F/C , C , G, has a stability that is rooted in the familiarity of minor function of the dm. As we return to the Dm we know our place in society and in life and love.
A clever opening. Almost TOO clever.
In the same way that with a heavy cross on her shoulder like the great Jesus Christ of Nazarath walked to his execution (bearing the weight of human sin), Millpy sings with “chains on her heart” to represent the emotional gravity of epic tale she is about to lay on us.
the following 2 lines are dumped on the listeners ears without warnings:
We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain. We jumped never asking why
We kissed, I fell under your spell. A love no one could deny
We consider what Milly is saying in this section. Clearly there was a romantic encounter that she was involved with. Perhaps she is saying that this encounter was unquestioned and initiated without too much hesitation on either side. Although it is a little strange that in this verse she mentions that the hearts were chained “in vain”, because that seems to be more the point of the whole song. Perhaps this is a bit of a spoiler?
The progression then suddenly turns into a more emotional progression: Bb , Dm , F , Bb. Starting from what seems to function as the VI, a second Moley Siruns appears an octave higher to double herself for the next phrase:
Don’t you ever say I just walked away. I will always want you
I can’t live a lie, running for my life. I will always want you
Clearly the relationship mentioned initially has ALREADY ended and Mopey here is perhaps stating that she would prefer that it should have continued. Either way, no hard feelings.
There is a little space, a breath, a moment to consider what we have already experienced thus far. Quite an artful touch… Millsie!
Then we are pounded in the face by a progression that is now solidly rooted in the relative major key, F. F, C, Dm, Bb says : “get the picture, bitch?”
The song continues as planned and Milpy rides nude the wrecking ball to get the Internets full attention.
Unmatched Brutality, The brutal death metal label well known for artists such as “Prostitute Disfigurement”, “Cock and Ball Torture”, and “Cumchrist”, have altered their website. The new version of their website includes new content about the development of classic rock.