As a, erm, musician -- Goddess, I hate saying and writing that word, because automatically sirens start wailing "Egotism! Self-importance! Professional nature! Hack!" on repeat in my head -- and (gulp) a frequent writer, sometimes you record or write songs and you discard them, and you realize later that it was actually quite good and keep kicking ( Read more... )

( For the easily amused, but perhaps not for the squeamish. )

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"I didn't understand your plea to live or the guy's wish to take or give,
However, as backing away, he fell and lay dead amongst the fireworks display...
It's not quite the way to say goodbyes, it's not quite the way to behave,
Secured you a concrete grave beneath a motorway...
Gold scissors cut the ribbon and set them loose,
On the opening day the ( Read more... )

"That turtle could be a rock in disguise fooling everyone,
Only Indians know how to tell, they're so smart,
They touch the dirt and feel it move...
That excites me... That's exciting to me...
That excites me... That makes me think...
I remember being young and wanting to be a cheetah,
'Cause they're so fast and strong with only meat on their bones...
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"Sulphur Mill Garden" (Recorded 23 September 2005)
This five-minute free-form composition consists of me making scraping noises against various objects with a pen, a sample from a cassette I made a few years ago that I used to record rhythm patterns on so I could use them at a later date for some song, and a drum machine loop -- all slowed down to ( Read more... )