Hey. Hey guys.

Fffffffuck you guys


I, Ted:" According to the Brazillian National Heritage Bill of '98, every music video to come out of that country has to by law follow a 1:3 culture-to-ass ratio of content - that is, one event of breakdancing/samba/capoeira to three brazillian women's asses.
This is what happens when you leave me, fuckers. Frolicking whores.



Old men playing dominos are considered optional.

Ugly Dance

Etid: light skin food air metal sex misery fire mushrooms webs ships torture beer frog spikes bleach violin ink crags sodomy money wings colorberries gods chainsaw bones puzzles babies concrete shellfish stilts entrails snow darkness isthisadream?

This is really the song that started it all.

Fucking Pendulum.

Too long! Too long chained down rendered floppy and molten useless.
Finally break free of this terrible and suspicious gravity that pervades this world.
All it took was time, time enough for sitting and waiting and wasting away in all dimensions

things were DULLED. Now I experience everything again, filters are a crutch for those who rely on sanity proper.
Let the mint of toothpaste burning your tongue be as real and visceral as any stolen kiss, any secret touch, let sensation intermingle as it ought to bring out the true in you.

Honestly. Honesty. Honey? Honor. Hone. Home.

I belong here no longer, and it knows it as much as I do. but we have passed the halfway mark together, and now I have freedom waiting at the visible end with laughter and intimacy and my own goddamn food oncemore.

Godshit I am not meant for this environment any longer, you wouldn't try and make a butterfly eat the same milkweed it had to choke down in order for it to make itself poisonous after it had hatched!

What a brilliant metaphor, I did not know, research break in middle of nightscream defiancing tells me caterpillars ingest cardenolide aglycones in order to make themselves poisonous. They are full of poison and it lasts them their whole life. They forcibly ingest enough poison in their pupal stage to give their dangerous orange color merit later on.

Inapplicable metaphor regardless continue.

What it TOOK was other people.

I am not a creator, I am no artist inmyownself I take and warp reflect twist that part and give it back and you will thank me for showing yours corrupted back again.

There was a book when I was a kid of a boy in a magic medievable castle university for mages and he garbled every spell and had no ability of his own but in the end he saved them all by acting as a conduit, an amplifier for their abilities. He was the lens the martyr the observer and focuser required to defeat whatever people couldnt do on their own.

I thought it was very different than usual, anyway, even as a kid.

People need input, I am not unique in this.

Books did it. Books here are shit, so I'm reading all the ones that I once tossed ignored into my narniadrobe. Alternate 1920's synthetic universe in a history noosphere from the future where europe has been replaced with a primordial soup of a rainjungle?
Warping, meandering intensely personal chronicle of a half dozen interweaving modern european drug dealers, fine art restorers, laundromat operators as they attempt to make sense of the juxtaposition of englands insidious past spirits unmaking connections?

Perhaps I have graduated from Dragons into this. Unwittingly.

How these people manage to craft worlds, people, in stunning clarity and originality, stuns me into oblivious worship.

What drives me is astonishment at the accomplishments of others.

Now I just need enough steady influx to maintain this to feed to microsurvive I can emerge as orange and black striped as I can manage.

And

SO

THE

DAYS

PASS

BY

Veus Dox

Stage one is complete, I am thinking. The part where I sort of cast about wildly and look, look, observe.

Here is the gist of it: I have been doing this in an incomplete fashion. By nature, all the songs I post on here and there have been put through the selection thresher of my exquisite tastes.
They are the stuff that sticks in your head and are highly enjoyable to listen to, but a dinner of nothing but Turkish Delight proved to be one young boys downfall and this metaphor is that it is time to grow up and also something about Narnia?

I Need. More. Music.

I need binders full of discs. I need crates full of music. I need more that is if not equally good, at least adequate.

And that takes a fair decent amount of time. You have to listen to songs in real time to get a proper feel for them, and I need literally hours of music that I can paint with.

AND it's always been the hard part for me, is accepting things I don't particularly enjoy the flavor of - not to say I dislike so much as prefer other varieties.

God I hate Tiesto. I hate Tiesto so much right in his stupid face.

I dislike trance, but love house.
I dislike acid house, but love electro house.
I love dubstep but hate darkstep.
I love drum and bass and breakbeat but hate glitch.
I hate minimalist, some trip-hop is nice, high-energy rave stuff is an aural assault (seen that porn), and wobble bass is the best sliced bread since thing.

So. Obviously there are some hurdles I will have to overcome, or some hoops I'll have to jump through to manage a proper set list library without playing the same. fucking. UNST UNST UNST. for ten minutes my GOD I hate Tiesto.

So my new rule is, if I hear a song that's remotely bearable I am by law required to hunt it down and physically download it. I need a decent quality copy on my drive so I can manhandle it. Youtube-only songs are no longer allowed. Unless youtube downloading software has suddenly made a giant upswing in quality.

Have they?

Am I A Sinner Because I Lust For You?

Gentlemen!

I have nothing to do.

It's, I mean, I've truly exhausted the entire "sit down" portion of the internet. Not in content, perhaps, but most definitely in ability.

Oh this island is awful. Offal. Wreckage. Detritus.

Late night discussions, apparently, are all we are capable of here.

Or rather. Late night drunken tirades. We take turns.

I also send texts. Here is a gem from last night, verbatim:
"
;














v7ttttqiooo cell ohone upside down deiciouus pasta. And whorres."


Oh lordy loo.
I need a hobby, a time waster. Ask me about my Cataclysm preparations.


So. SO.

I'm going to do something I haven't done in, uh, ever.

I'm going to sit and listen to the radio.

No, not that bullshit 98.1 FM bullshit No Song You Haven't Heard Yesterday And Forevermorebestofthe80s90'sandtodayareyougettingtiredofthesame15songsyetordoyouonlyplaytheradiotocoverupyourowndesperatesilenceyouawfulperson.

I'm going to listen to Pete Tong's Essential Mix on BBC Radio 1 and he is going to instruct me on what people want to listen to.

My end goal for this project is an hour, maybe two or three, of solid transitioning and crossfading beatmatching etcetc dance music, hand selected by me.

You there. Arcadian. Give me your electrohouse. Give me your big beat dubstep wobblebass.
Give me, as Lily Allen put it, "any kind of like, sort of punk-y electronica kind of grime, kind of like new-wave grime, kind of maybe like more broken beats, like kind of dubby broken beats but a little bit kind of soulful? like kind of drumandbass-y, but kind of more broken drumandbass-y, like a kind of broken beats break beat kind of broken drum bass kind of..."

Edit: Oh you know I can't stay mad at you, internet.


MARK RONSON ILOVEYOOOOOU


Biggie, you're okay too.

Nope, Wait, That's Stronger Than My Body

Wahhhhrrrhhgh

I have grown fat and happy in my dotage. Rain and grey and the warmth of satisfaction have set me out to pasture, and I'm totally okay with it except for the part where I'm exiled to this, my Saint Helena, for the next two months.

And so quickly, too!

Usually I travel at a slow enough pace that I gather my bearings, proceed with some dignity, and adapt. My philosophy of isolate and resume, remember. The world of California and the world of Maui and the world of College, three separate worlds of Mother and Father and Self that I maintained for as long as I've had them.

Only in the past day or two I've blazed from one, past the other, and fallen into the third before I was capable of remembering how I'm supposed to act here.

Hrmmmmm.

I was thin and miserable and sharp, or at least I fancied myself acceptably so. I had established myself as such, anyway, a while ago.

Like the end of the Lion, Witch and Wardrobe. They fall back out and go "Uh, buh, kingdom, grownup, stag hunt, oh right boarding school and war. Damn."

Only in reverse, I suppose. That's what it feels like.
It doesn't help that I can just waltz into Foodland and go "one vodka please".
Actually, that doesn't help, because the shit is COSTLY here on Saint Helena.

Oh I miss my computer. This laptop is insufficient.

Here is the problem: I have no purpose. I am in suspended animation for the summer, with no goals and no intentions, and I have no desire for my current situation.

I didn't need a break. I was fine. Give me more school, give me the same thing I just had. God I hate change. I hate the end of the school year, I hate the end of the semester! I hate the end of the week! I just like doing what I'm doing, why does everyone think you have to finish just when you're comfortable. Yes, finals were difficult and I lost some sleep and teeth like everyone else, but then you coma up for a week and you're fine! Lets go!

(Summerschool? Summerschool might work, but I doubt the schedule will fit as finely as I've shaved my schedule)

I used to go "why would I do anything else with my summer but the traditional return to alcatraz?". It's the way it goes, we all show up in hoods and torches and go "yes, hello, I remember you, lets drink and pretend" and it's usually quite fun and I was confused as to why people seemed to stop doing it and now I realize it is out of necessity and inability. Eventually it is no longer an option. I wonder what I shall do next summer. I hope it isn't work. I hate work.


Hey, look, over there! It's the new Pendulum album!
Immersion is out!
I have figured out why I like Pendulum so damn much - other than the boring reason of "seamless blend of drum&bass and 'what DeathCab would sound like if they were all dubstep maniac badasses'".

Pendulum produces the type of songs I would want to start playing in the background if I suddenly discovered I could fling fire from my fingertips.

That is an incredibly accurate description.

If I don't find something to do in the next week I'm going to build a Warhammer and fight Caleb.
Possibly The World.

Now Wat

Finals over. Maui in 2 weeks exactly.

Um um um. New computer. Information to follow.

That's about it.

What did I do before I took tests?
Oh right. Post stupid shit on the internet.














I should get some new music...