SONG OF THE DAY: Maskeraad

Funk is Universal, and it’s in every single human soul… if allowed to flourish. The saddest thing to see is how whole segments of society have stifled their natural funk for so long that they’re not even seen culturally able to be funky. If you’re such a person, I suggest you get a big metal barrel for burning things that you put outside, and burn that fucker at least a couple times a month, preferably when the moon is bright, although to be honest, it’s just an important to soak up the new moon vibes as well, which is counterintuitive if you’re counting on light. But fire, plus lunar reflections and stardusting your crown, these are all things that help ferment the funk back in your soul. If you do it right, you should start smelling like woodsmoke half the time. If that’s a problem, well, then you are choosing whatever path of your life requires you not to stink like woodsmoke over the the path that leads you back to a natural funky nature. So at that point, you’re making the choice to not be funky. That’s sad. No amount of progress promised by civilization is worth losing our funk.

SONG OF THE DAY: Night Fires

Country music back in the day was weird, because it’d be like 100 weeks of shit radio-friendly songs (still is like that), but then you’d get some weird ass Side 2 jam like this where Conway Twitty just wasn’t even fuckin’ around one bit. How the fuck do you make a song like this and not look like Conway Twitty? Impossible. Universal magnetics sneaks into even country ass music more often than folks realize.

SONG OF THE DAY: Heart of Gold

I know I saw Charles Bradley perform once before he died, and I think maybe twice, but I know the one time I did actually see him, not only did he tear it down during his performance, but while the Budos Band was playing, he was out in his brown leather pants and 1982 shirt, dancing like a fool. Dude just had that aura about him.
I’ve been trying to cut back on useless shit I hate, or resent, which can be difficult in a late capitalist society, where fake ass people hoard all the opportunities, and regular real life people you actually know will laud some of these fake fuckers as “authentic” and “real”. It holds me back to be worried about that shit. Just gotta let my aura shine, act the fool I am, and bring joy to myself, as well as others, and the rest will either fall in place or not even matter. Been trying to remind myself of that on a daily basis, multiple times each day.

SONG OF THE DAY: Roll Um Easy

IF YOU ARE THE DUDE WHO STOLE MY LITTLE FEAT CD THE NIGHT WE HAD A PARTY IN MEHERRIN AFTER BURYING MY DAD BECAUSE YOU PLAYED IT BY THE BONFIRE IN YOUR TRUCK, PLEASE REVEAL YOURSELF SO THAT I MAY KNOW WHO I HAVE HELD A LIFETIME (and beyond) BLOOD GRUDGE AGAINST PLEASE. My youngest sister refuses to tell me to this day who you are, and she even bought me a new copy of that particular CD, but it just don’t sound the same. It just don’t sound the fuckin’ same bro.

R34D 4N 4RT1CL3 0N H0W...

read an article on how 
cave paintings were three-dimensional 
when seen by the light of fire 

SONG OF THE DAY: レッドブルとグミ

 

VIDEO 

Nothing is really any different today than it was yesterday. Next Wednesday won’t be all that different from last Wednesday either. There are always subtle changes happening, but these human mind made catastrophic dramas are never what we make them out to be. Ever since dualistic theology overtook our ways, we fall into these “good vs. evil” traps, and forget the spectrum of spirits that exist between and beyond the binaries. If you’re really feeling bad though, I suggest burning some shit. I like to call it “archiving in ash”. It can be helpful, on both a personal and political level.

SONG OF THE DAY: Party Wit Pop Smoke

The smell of barrel fire on fresh clothes, meaning that $20 t-shirt you bought from your boy who has “a clothing line” that took five reminder texts despite your completely laid back nature to get him to remember to drop it off, that you figured was only for weekend fresh fits, but you somehow found yourself wandering the tracks beneath the interstate bridges and found fellow souls of deep-patterned solitude standing around a metal barrel lifted off the ground by two sideways cinderblocks (safety first), so you kicked it with them, because fireside ciphers are incomparable – the free styling of human words from your barely conscious brain as flames suck oxygen and flash the promise of cleansing it all and archiving all the world’s wrongs into ash so that we can begin again, freshly, and see if we don’t get it more right than last time this next time. The flames hide the stank of pallet scraps and found volunteer kindling and empty cans and taillight covers that floated down from the heavens above, and the barrel fire smell of all of our manufactured plastic ass existence blends into the fibers of your fresh $20 shirt from your boy’s line, and it’s like the DNA inside your body, full of the smoke from your pop and his pop and the pops before that, plus the moms… oh fuck the glorious persistent moms that had to endure all those explosive self-destructive pops and try to hold shit together just well enough that the family tree grew out into you, and you’re stills standing here, a goddamn wreck of human existence but wearing that fresh shirt and the same grey-scale camouflage cargo shorts, freestyling those same prayers you’ve been freestyling for years, falling on deaf gods who never hear dirtgods. And that fresh shirt meant for Saturday afternoon cookouts that don’t happen because quarantine feels permanent is relegated to long solitary walks of pimping through the wasteland, and the shirt stinks of burned plastic and ragweed blunts and to be honest, of you. The freshness is worn off, but you tell yourself it’s still fresh, you’re still fresh, there’s still hope, keep walking, keep freestyling those prayers to the gods above, dreams only come true if you naively keep believing in them.

SONG OF THE DAY: Run For Your Life

They've been building walls all along, the whole time, and they keep building them closed in just a little bit more as they split us apart and find space enough to put up another wall. We are all in a simulated solitary confinement already, and I know a lot of people are saying you should buy guns and learn how to use them, but I really just wanna remind everybody how great and effective arson is.

4TT3MPT T0 M4K3 TH3 M0ST 0F...

attempt to make the most of

domesticated spirit

but once blaze orange aura's dull

BL4Z3 0R4NG3 4VR4 34S1LY...

blaze orange aura easily

laser beamed upon world through

double barrel dimple gauge

TH4T BL4Z3 0R4NG3/L1M3 GR33N L1F3STYL3...

that blaze orange/lime green lifestyle -

the sixty-nine yin-yang of

rural existence crisis

4DV4NC3D TH1NK1NG L1TTL3 0R4NG3...

advanced thinking little orange

boys advancing across the

forest floor, flagless of course