Author Archives: KING GOD

THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION

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I wrote this in an email to an old teacher of mine and I liked it enough to just put it up here:
This is good but it’s not going far enough!
On the learning modules that come with the tablet:
“Content can be remixed for further personalization. The child is encouraged to rename characters and change clothing, colors, and other superficial details. In the future we expect to accomplish further narrative customization by recombination of story elements. Lebowitz [9] and Riedl [13] show how a planner can be used to recombine and adapt story fragments. We have less ambition than the cited work: instead of attempting to generate thousands of stories from tens of templates, we hope to select and then modestly adapt from hundreds of story modules created in a decentralized manner by teachers—and eventually by the students themselves.”
 
They’re still stuck in that bullshit student/teacher dichotomy! Teaching’s a thing that is done – I don’t think there’s any such thing as a “teacher”. The same goes for study! We are all of us teachers and all of us students – for none of us are. The librarian is a better model than the teacher – not a dictator but a partner, assistant.
And in that vein the library is a better model than the school! Why don’t we just give kids material and allow them to learn it at their own pace? Because we don’t want them having a mind of their own. We teach them to be idiots – we lobotomise them.
I am really sick of linking bullshit academic articles to people all the time though. It’s tedious bullshit written for idiots! Why is it they feel the need to spell everything out for an audience which should, by all rights, be the ones most capable of understanding it? I hate academics – introduce your terms and define them like you were speaking to an audience of the concussed, piddle over irrelevant bullshit semantics – university’s where you go to miss the forest for the trees.
This is on an old French professor who gave his students a bilingual copy of one of his books and, because he could not speak their language, had them teach themselves:
“Like all conscientious professors, he knew that teaching was not in the slightest about cramming students with knowledge and having them repeat it like parrots, but he knew equally well that students had to avoid the chance detours where minds still incapable of distinguishing the essential from the accessory, the principle from the consequence, get lost. In short, the essential act of the master was to explicate: to disengage the simple elements of learning, and to reconcile their simplicity in principle with the factual simplicity that characterizes young and ignorant minds. To teach was to transmit learning and form minds simultaneously, by leading those minds, according to an ordered progression, from the most simple to the most complex. By the reasoned appropriation of knowledge and the formation of judgement and taste, a student was thus elevated to as high a level as his social destination demanded, and he was in this way prepared to make the use of the knowledge appropriate to that destination: to teach, to litigate, or to govern for the lettered elite; to invent, design, or make instruments and machines for the new avant-garde now hopefully to be drawn from the elite of the common people; and, in the scientific careers, for the minds gifted with this particular genius, to make new discoveries. Undoubtedly the procedures of these men of science would diverge noticeably from the reasoned order of the pedagogues. But this was no grounds for an argument against that order. On the contrary, one must first acquire a solid and methodical foundation before the singularities of genius could take flight. Post hoc, ergo propter hoc
 
This is how all conscientious professors reason. This was how Joseph Jacotot, in his thirty years at the job, had reasoned and acted. But now, by chance, a grain of sand had gotten into the machine. He had given no explanation to his “students” on the first elements of the language. He had not explained spelling or conjugations to them. They had looked for the French words that corresponded to words they knew and the reasons for their grammatical endings by themselves. They had learned to put them together to make, in turn, French sentences by themselves:
sentences whose spelling and grammar became more and more exact as they progressed through the book; but, above all, sentences of writers and not of schoolchildren. Were the schoolmaster’s explications therefore superfluous? Or, if they weren’t, to whom and for what were they useful?”
The school child is something that’s been manufactured. That and this horrible idea of the “lowest common denominator” with which it so often overlaps – but when you take that idea and you see how it’s spread throughout learner, consumer, worker, citizen, like the middle of a Venn diagram, you can see it’s just another iteration of the ancient idea that people are stupid or evil and they need orders – they need to be fed a steady stream of directives or else there’ll be chaos! Unrest! And these people who in making that judgement have declared themselves qualified to give orders – “I know people are stupid! Here from my perch I see chaos below me and thank heavens for my cage – a respite from coming and going! I must make them sit still – I must quiet this chaos, so from here my voice rings above all.” Caged birds making the whole world a cage!

Stay Hungry: The Science of Utopia

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I have quit school. What do I do now? I have quit school and I know what to do – I will write, and I’ll write, and I’ll keep writing and making and drawing and painting and I will do what ever I want, and I will keep doing what ever I want until I die and I will make the people around me happy and I will love them and this is what I will do with my life. I have decided this now because it is all I can do – it is all I can do to do this and the only alternative is death, small death at first moved to big death and madness now later – not being able to cope. All I can do is live and in living love death and in death love life and in knowing my death, love my own life, because you must become acquainted with its death before you can love it. It must be a limited thing to be loved because you have been lied to – you have been told that inconstancy’s finite and what passes is worthless and to put your faith in the big men and the heads who will go on for ever and ever and ever and ever, floating torsos on podiums and heads on TV who will go on forever and who have all the answers and nothing will change and they’ll guide us to freedom (Responsibility tempered, of course, and with all due respect to the men and now women who guided us here and their wants and their needs and society’s fabric and moral upstanding and good sense and decency, and aren’t we inspired that women and blacks and yes, even the cripples can grow up and lead us to better, more orderly futures and yes sir, yes ma’am, may I please have another, thank you sir, thank you ma’am) and we won’t have to worry about our own lives because we’ll have them and they all know what’s best – we learned it in school, after all.

But what matters is death and in knowing things die we can know that they live and we see here two choices – the living death of a life which can’t ever be dead that was never alive that was stillborn and mummified, not born but preserved into life. But it takes life to die – it’s an effort, a push, one last leap past a threshold and into beyond which eternal life lacks and it sits there and says “It is good enough – it is good enough to live.” And it sits there and says “good enough” and it freezes and lacks life enough to be dead and it lacks death enough to be live, and in this it is pleased, it says “Ah! Eternal problem now solved, better yet solved by me.” and it sees the world moving and not its own stillness and thinks “Why all this? Why this fuss over living when they could be at rest?” And here is the problem with living too long and with life after death: “Rest now – life comes later. ” I say life now, I say pleasure now and rest later when dead. And this rest is a name for the posture of slowness – of drudgery, trudging and toiling through life – life in sludge, and in fat. Starve yourself thin enough to coast by on light beams – stay thin and stay hungry and you will be full. Here’s the thing about hunger – it is not at all lack, it has never been lack, it has always been positive. It does not say you’re empty – it says you want more. Cultivate hunger and things will taste better. It’s forward momentum – propulsion which drives and which urges you forward. Utopia’s science: “Stay Hungry”.

Choice two is to rot, and in rot to know life. To embrace death and spring from it new every moment – cast off former selves and consume them for energy. Be the rot which is fertile and teeming with life. Make all your life’s moments a resurrection – casting off of the old to make way for the new. Shed your skins and move forward and grow while you can. Be hard when you need to but fresh when you can – time for scales has passed and the danger has gone and you carve out a space for your self to be vulnerable. Be the life which knows death and in doing so lives. Be the life which won’t last from which new life will spring. Here we see the two choices – a living death and a dying life. Be the change that’s eternal – the eternal can’t last.

ASH, LIFE

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Eat shit. Eat shit, eat shit, eat shit, eat shit is what I’d tell the world. Smash all things to dust and live king-like on ashes. Live king-like in ruins which need no destruction – they’re ready destroyed and they’re already perfect. Live hungry in ruins and starving in wreckages. Utopia’s science summed up in these words: “Stay hungry.” Strive nothing and nowhere and stew in your power, stew up in your power and know you are king and you’re king and you’ll always be king and whoever says “No” is an enemy. Be the “Yes” and the spring and new life in the ashes and spring up and up flourish and spread and from shit and from ashes emerge now immaculate, now draped in resplendencies up and up lifted, in silk-light resplendencies draped across leaves and now blossoms rise up, and up and up lifted away to the stars and to what lays between – to the night’s fluid blackness in which I now drink.

None of the music I hear has the speed – no thing that I hear has the speed that I want. No thing sounds like angels and angelsong screaming in pure tones perfect notes screaming in ecstasy, pleasure and light, pleasure and light draped in gossamer finery, pleasure and light sending feelers and filaments and the delicate touch of the scream which is pleasure. It is all much too slow – nothing here now is fast enough, nothing my speed. Every thing is too slow and it’s all much too quiet but the scream – sustained scream in which all tones are found – is the sound which I need and my leaves are raised up, from the dust and the ashes raised up to the stars and the onyx-black sky of dark waters in which I now drink, which obsidian-black taint my leaves and in which I take root, and which black taint my leaves and which crumble to ash, and the world turns to ash and from ash springs new life – new sidereal life – from which life springs anew now abundant, now ash.

Panarchy – Why?

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Why should we? And better yet, why am I so afraid of writing about it? Why am I afraid of anything? Why! I’m just going to write this shit until I’m not scared of it any more because Christ knows there’s better stuff I could do with my time than just sit around scared all the time. What do I want to do? What am I afraid of? Am I afraid no one’s going to read it? I keep on with my journal and I keep telling myself one day in the far future someone will dig it all up and love it and know it and know how I feel, and that it will help them.

I sit here writhing in my seat and pissing my life away in fear of living because I’m afraid of my self – because I’m afraid of exposure and I fear the judgement of others. My problem is I think there’s opinions which matter more than my own. Of course I listen to people and take what they have to say on board – I’m eager to hear what they have to say! – but nothing they say is of value except insofar as it gets me to change my own mind. But I’m sick of writing about my self! I’m sick of so much – I’d be sick if I weren’t! – but most of all I’m sick of my self and I want to be over it and I want it to stop and to go away and get out of the way so I can enjoy things! No more sickness and worry and no more sweat and pain and frustration – just power! Sheer power, screaming power – the scream is what I want to live, the scream and laughter. And I will be wind and fire and crackling energy, sheer screaming force and fury and power and power and power and power and power, tumbling thru earth and through corridors, halls stripping bare floors and walls and then scouring ceilings and scouring wind and flesh and word and light and made pure and clean blazing light – the wind full of lights and expression and force moving forward and forward and forward momentum, racing to moon and on moonlight and stripping it bare and then living there clean, fresh and clean, fresh and clean, fresh and clean. Inhaling thin air and it’s fresh and it tumbles thru veins and it strips me away and I’m clean, and the light is inside me, the light which is air, which is fire and wind, and I am convinced that if I keep writing and if I can keep writing without tumbling off into shithouse poetry which is necessary, so necessary, then I will come up with an audience. Any thing written long and writ hard enough will be read, and any thing which is read will be read and reread and considered and thought about and I will write this until it is out of my system. The only way out – the only way there has ever been – is through.

WHAT IS PANARCHY?

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I’ve got no idea! I’m still figuring it out, and chances are I will be for the rest of my life. This is good! This is how ideas should be – any idea you’ve “figured out” is a dead one – it means it’s time to ask new questions, move on to new ideas.

I’m so nervous about writing a blog! But why should I be? Something I’ve realised over the past month is that nothing can be forced, and that I can’t do anything but what I want to do, and that if the blog-writing time has not come, I will not write a blog. More and more I will cultivate that will to writing a blog, but for now it is not a big will, and there is no shame in that. I keep a journal constantly, but the journal and the blog are very different media, and I am still learning this one. Beyond that, each blog is itself perfectly unique and has its own character in a way my journals don’t – my journal is any surface I can write on. For now I will try and understand what this blog is, and what kind of writing it is able to receive.*

But WHAT IS PANARCHY? I’ve been thinking for a while what Panarchy is and I have figured these things out (This is a phrase I’ve used more than once now so I’ll have to write about what it means.):

  • Every friendship is a tiny Panarchy.
    • But I could not say whether Panarchy is a big friendship. I think it could be!
  • Panarchy is salvage philosophy.
    • Life springs from rot, things with no Official (And this is important) function are capable of anything. The carved stone has purpose, the uncarved stone has potential. “Carved” and “uncarved” are ways of perceiving, and there is something which is both of them, where function is perfectly fluid and where these things are not in some petty opposition but enhance each other, fall in love with each other. Nothing is mutually exclusive, however much it might appear to be.
    • “Carved” is tentative, always provisional – Panarchy says everything is provisional. Panarchy is simultaneously carved and uncarved, figured and un-figured out. There are no ends, only the decision to “stop here, for now.”
  • Panarchy is un-Official
    • It would be very interesting to do a survey of ‘negative’ prefixes – un-, non-, anti-, in-, and so on. I say ‘negative’ because they’re not really negative at all – they are freedoms from. The non-hierarchical is freedom from hierarchy, the anti-racist is freedom from racism – you are not fenced in at all. It’s more like guard railings around a pit, which is itself a fencing in (You are trapped, you can not climb out). This pit is the same bucket as the one referred to in the phrase “crabs in a bucket”. And this bucket is a prison! The same prison as the one posed in the Prisoners’ Dilemma – in both the Prisoners’ Dilemma and the crabs’ bucket, they harm themselves in their efforts to put themselves ahead of their partners.
    • “When you catch a crab and place him in a bucket, the first thing he’ll try to do is escape. Now, if you put two crabs in a bucket (hence the plural form of ‘Crabs in a Bucket’) and place them in there together, as soon as one tries to climb up out of the bucket the other will grab the escaping crab by the legs and try to escape itself, to which the process gets repeated to the point where NO crabs end up escaping.”
      Urban Dictionary
    • The lesson: Stay out of pits!
  • Panarchy is the Pop Vernacular:
    • “The Pop Vernacular is a both a graveyard for the old and the superseded and the spawning ground of unexpected futures. A cornucopia of architectural salvage. The Pop Vernacular draws on all of time and space. And despite its familiarity, it glows with optimism and freshness. Far from the end of history, it is the well spring of the imminent future. … Without the need for authenticity, its free to reinvent itself.”
      • Most important: It does not glow with optimism and freshness despite its familiarity, but because of it. Additionally, there is no difference between the “graveyard for the old and superseded” and the “spawning ground of unexpected futures.” There was never a difference – life springs from rot, rot springs from life.
      • It is the need for authenticity, the pursuit of it which makes you inauthentic. In needing authenticity, you are in need of authenticity – that is what the word means.
        • I am in need of nothing, at my best. I am always at my best, but sometimes it is hard to perceive this, and in perceiving it, it becomes true. The question then would be why I perceive it some times and not others! This is a question for later. The important thing now is that all that has happened is all that could ever have happened, because it did. There is nothing to compare it to. Every thing that happens is the best thing that could have happened, no matter how horrific, and all we can do with those horrific moments is take them and say to ourselves “we will not let this happen again”.
        • But I could not equally say every thing that happens is the worst thing that could have happened. Why is this? This is a matter of saying “everything is a miracle or nothing is a miracle” – it’s also the difference between saying “our Sun is just another star” and “every star is a Sun.”
    • “Architects’ relationship to the vernacular is to patronise it as traditional, kitsch, as the lowest common denominator. Maybe they fear its wild and uninhibited nature, maybe they are wary of its ruthless directness. Certainly it is a different tradition of building. It obeys different laws to high architecture. This makes it difficult to pin down: it absorbs different aesthetics, it mutates, it shifts its subject matter.”
      • The Pop Vernacular is un-Official – a freedom from the Official. High Architecture – High Anything – is Official. ‘Rabelais and His World’ has more on this wonderful idea – there is a lower bodily stratum of shit, sex, birth (Life springs from rot) and an upper bodily stratum of speech, thought and faces. The upper is ungrounded and pretends at eternity – this is why lecterns hide the lower half – while the lower is dynamic, procreative and transient. Panarchy is the lower, or both at once? I’m sure it’s not the upper. It’s freedom from the upper.
  • Panarchy is childish philosophy.
    • I will have to think more about this. Think of the character of a child, don’t ask it to be anything but itself. Think especially of the way they ask questions! Children have not been taught that things are impossible – they have not been lied to. The question of what’s possible is a very difficult one, but for now I don’t think anyone can know enough to say what is and isn’t possible except in the most provisional sense – I can’t tell the future, so I can’t say anything’s impossible. Be sceptical of anyone who says they know what is and isn’t possible – be sceptical of “Realists”. Be an Unrealist!

Friendship is the most interesting thing I’ve ever encountered, and it’s been the catalyst for all the other realisations I’ve come to over the past month. Friendship, like Panarchy, is the spirit of free play and experimentation. Friendship is sober honesty but it’s always exciting – this is the spirit of ruthless directness attributed to the Pop Vernacular.

When writing about friendship I found my blog post slowing to a halt and dying. This will happen until I learn how to take care of it properly – it will seem very brittle and it will seem as if it’s failing to thrive, but this is just a function of my not knowing what it wants yet. And this is also in the spirit of conversation! Something I’ve noticed is that conversations die when you go to talk to someone about something – you can talk to anyone about something, but you can’t talk to someone about anything. I am only ever speaking to someone. “Anyone” is a very interesting character – what can they do? What can’t they do? What is the difference between “Anyone” and “Everyone”? These are all questions for later. I’m not done writing about friendship!

*The writing is produced in the act of “receiving”, which is not a receiving at all, but a fruitful partnership between me and the blog – a love, a procreation in which neither and both is the parent. I will have to think more about this, but in the same sense we could say “a conversation has two people”, rather than “two people have a conversation”, you might say a writing has me and the blog.

P.S. If you think this post was bullshit, or you liked it, but mostly if you were affected enough to think about it, I’d love to hear from you! Send me an email at owensworth@gmail.com.

Panarchy! A How-To (Part 1 – Beginning)

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I’ve been trying to write this article for a week now because I decided to start with four whole books but it took too long and got stalled so I’m starting again with an outline and the first of the four books I wrote about – Elaine Pagels’ Gnostic Gospels, a fabulous book on the beliefs of an ancient heretical sect of Christianity and their relationship with a nascent orthodox church. Groovy! Let’s start:

Why Panarchy?

Panarchy is a word I came up with in the last hour after thinking about what to call this book for the past week or so. I’ve been thinking “Anarchy and Hierarchy”, “Heterachy”, “Non-Hierarchical Organisation” (Doesn’t really flow off the tongue does it?) but for one reason or another I haven’t been happy with any of them. Panarchy is a new word I came up with after about 20 minutes of checking out the etymology of the word “hierarchy” and more specifically the suffix “-archy” and then going to the toilet and reading Mikhail Bakhtin’s Rabelais and His World for a while. Panarchy means two things which are the same thing: the rule of all and the rule of satire (Pan = Satyr = Satire). The rule of all – the rule of everyone as equals, kings and queens alike – is contingent on the rule of laughter and play. This is play in the sense of the old question “What would you do if you were king for a day?” This is satire in the liberating sense, because good satire only punches upward.

Only equals may laugh…. To make men smile at the god Apis is to deprive him of his sacred rank and to transform him into a common bull.”

When we develop the religious metaphor the relationship between satyrs, satires, devils and Panarchy will become clear. The old Christian Devil – THE Devil, the big goat man – was once Pan, the Horned God (Which will also be covered when I look over Slaine, this cool old comic book). The question here is why Pan, as opposed to any other stolen god (eg. Beelzebub, who is especially interesting because of his other name, Baal, whose principle of fun and debauchery is expressed in Bertold Brecht’s play of the same name) has become the dominant popular image of The Devil. What is it about the fun-loving, free-wheeling Pan that makes him the antithesis of old Christian seriousness? These are fantastically interesting questions which we’ll have to leave til later. We’ll explore the seriousness of angels, their opposition to the devils and their freedoms (Also interesting – the autonomous, self-organising computer programs known as “Demons”, to be covered in a review of Manuel DeLanda’s War in the Age of Intelligent Machines.).

I love this article so I’m going to publish it as it is, following up with the first book next time.

Next time: Elaine Pagels’ Gnostic Gospels and the method of the High Priests.

small poem

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God commits suicide

The world

God is the most beautiful

thing has ever existed

His death is the

Saddest thing that

Will ever happen

He is the only one

He has died

perfection has died

with him love has

died with him

he was the most

beautiful thing that

has ever existed

he is is perfect and

now he is dead and

no one knows why

God is dead

he has comm

God is dead

he has committed

suicide

and we have died

with him.

 

We are mourning

wailing

and we have never

known happiness

he is ded

and we have killed him

and we have never known

happiness

Email to Amanda #1

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p. 467: Class and Place: Why do the privileged vampirise the culture of place? What’s the process by which they murder culture? If culture can be murdered, how is it born, how does it accumulate and what transformations does it endure? Culture is place’s lifeblood. Culture is psychic energy and ley lines. Ley lines are flows. Which come first – the lines or the intersections? A town exists not in its occupants, but in the process of entering and leaving. (Is there a word for all-normative people? Rich, white, straight, male, etc. Ruling class? The privileged?)
Is there something about minorities and marginal people that makes them more vital? Am I romanticising disadvantage? If I am, why shouldn’t I? Nothing says I can’t acknowledge how shitty it is to be disadvantaged and take pleasure in what the disadvantaged have over the privileged – vitality. In being marginal, we constitute edges. This is why we’re better at making place. What’s alive is nomadic – if a place is cool enough to get lines forming, it’s no longer cool. Cool is never a cause – if you go to a place because it’s cool, you’re missing the point.
p. 473: Destruction of place: “Navaho beliefs that Arizona’s Black Mesa is a sacred place did not prevent the Peabody Coal Company from strip mining it for coal starting in 1970 (Kelley & Francis 1994).”
Destruction – to build down, to reduce builtness, to unbuild. Why is there a visceral rush at the idea of destroying a sacred place? Why does it give you a sense of power? Bad power. Violating the inviolable makes you inviolable. Consider the effect of zeroing place on the people who do it. What happens to them? What does it take to do it, and how does it leave them changed?

I’m going to start working on a book and posting it here.

Poetry Compiled in Triplets from Zykon Coven Youtube Account

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**EXTRATERRESTRIAL BEINGS RESIDING IN GEO-THERMAL PARADISE. EXPLORE THROBBING MOUNTAINS OF SAND, LITTERED WITH PALM TREES AND CRYOGENIC MEMORY SHRINES**

**SWIMMING THROUGH THE AZURE AMPHIBIA DATA OASIS. CYCLICAL STEAM VISIONS OF ANCIENT CONSTANTS AT PLAY WITHIN THE MISTY REEDS**

**THROUGH THE FLUSHPIPE INTO EMPERYEAN SUBTERRANEAN ISOLATION. THE SANDS OF TIME SLOW INFINITELY IN THE CLUTTERED RED EARTH VORTEX**

**SPELUNKING IN THE CURSED LAGOON OF KAPU KAI. SHADOWS DANCING UNDER EMERALD WAVES ACROSS THE SKY**
**ANESTHETIC WINDS BLOWING THROUGH DESOLATE NEO-REALITIES, CARRYING THE HAUNTED ECHOS OF DREAM TEMPLES PASSED**
**SPIRITUAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL SYNTHESIS. HORIZONS FOLD IN THE WAKE OF THE JEWEL ENCRUSTED SKY-WAY TOWER**

**FALLING THROUGH CLOUD COVER. HUMBLING TRANSMISSIONS FROM THE SKY-FORM MONASTERIES WRAPPED IN CRIMSON LIGHT**
**PLANES OF CIMMERIAN HALLUCINATION AND INTROSPECTIVE-FLORA BLOSSOMING. THE UNIVERSE AND MIND CRADLED AS ONE BY WARM INCENSE CLOUDS**
**A HUMECTANT SWIRLING DARK MEMORY TAPESTRY. CIRCADIAN SAND RHYTHM SPIRITS RIDE IN ON BECKONING STORM CLOUDS**

**SOLAR SALVATION BROUGHT UPON BY COSMIC COMMUNION AT THE WHIM OF THE WHITE COCONUT EMPRESS**
**GRANITE RATTLESNAKE CELESTIA. GLOWING RUMINATION POURING OUT FROM THE VERDURE CAVERN SHRINE FACING WEST**
**ANALOG WHITE NOISE PRIMITIVISM. CHURNING SHADOWS OF SUMMERTIME AND AGGRESSION AMASSING**

**AN ESOTERIC AND EXPANSIVE TIME TRAVEL LITURGY. RECONDITE STONE-AGES SUBMERGED IN DENSE HUMIDITY AND MIND-FLORA**
**THE EMERALD HEART OF AFRICA AS EXPLORED THROUGH 1990’s COMPUTER PROGRAMS. A LUSH AND DENSE SYNTH RAIN FOREST**
**A LUCID JOURNEY THROUGH ARTIFICIAL SELF-REALIZATION AND GYRO-TROPIC DIMENSIONS. BASK IN THE BURNING HOT SHADOWS OF YOUR POTENTIAL**

**PREHISTORIC POP RISING UP FROM JUNK FOOD TAR PITS. A HYPNAGOGIC MIASMA AND STAR-CROSSED OOZE BANQUET**
**GRINDING MASS MEDIA SOUND CONTORTION. A FETISHIZATION OF INDUSTRIALIZATION**
**SPRINTING THROUGH SEEDY ABANDONED CITY STREETS. CRUMBLING CEMENT MORPHS INTO STARLIGHT**

**ECHOLOCATION PAN-FLUTE RITUALS BUBBLING UP FROM DEPTHS OF PLASTIC CORAL AND HOLOGRAPHIC FLOTSAM**

**A CRAWLING VOYAGE THROUGH ANXIETY AND PARANOIA ONLY TO END IN LOBE THROBBING BLISS**

**SCATHING AND BLOATED DIRGES CRASHING THROUGH WALLS OF DENSE CONSCIOUS ABYSS**

Approaches to Listening #1

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listened to GRIPPERS NOTHER ONESERS – HIGHWAY NIGHTSTALKER ADVENTURE and clicked through every related video with the lowest viewcount for a while. rules:
• No loading more suggestions.
• No same artist twice in a row.
• No song twice.
• Click the related video with the lowest playcount.

Island’s Eyelids – Pelican Praises Its Prey
my favourite here. reminds me of donkey kong or big beat music from when I was little.
Endless Endless Endless – Washes
not so great, sounds like OPN a bit. meek
Eachothers – Happy Endings
interesting, sounds like album cover. try to imagine how the cover describes the song.
Red Electric Rainbow – Boredom in Paradise (Side A)
liked more when the arpeggiated synths came in, appreciated but never loved. end is nice.
Waterside Gala – Wandering Away
sounds like a pond. chinese garden, nighttime festival. beautiful
Interaccion – Insomnio
nuclear zone, computer dump. radioactive street punx, revolutionary front. prowling the streets
Sandoz Lab Technicians – Festival of Vapours
entomology. dirt. malfunctioning equipment. geology. mapping the underground. roadside desert.
Kraus – Let Me Eat Cake
sounds like OPN in a good way. doesn’t sound like opn. not computers – alien voices. nighttime abduction. new rule – no same release.
Nautical Almanac – Clump Clump
primitive buskers mutate from broken animatronics workshop on abandoned dockside
Conventum – Le Commerce Nostalgique
jaga jazzist. king crimson. spanish spies. two kinds of music populate low viewcount youtube – dead folk bands and experimental electronic outfits
Ous Mal – Kaupunkeja
dead folk band breeds with electronic experimental outfit. alpine forest lake. album cover. nature film. harp
Magnificent Crumb – Outside the Vacuum
indie-ish seaborne obsession. stopping here. jaga jazzist. mystical ninja. spy vs. spy