SONG OF THE DAY: Ain't No Big Thing

3-day weekend, if you recognize calendars, or time, or recognize both and are trapped in the status quo schedule of life events. Gonna play shit like this all weekend long, sitting on a milk crate in the abandoned factory of the mind. I wish you all well. I hope you are not wrongly perceived.

SONG OF THE DAY: Machette

I recently realized I hadn’t bought any machetes in a long time, which worried me, although as I thunk about it, I realized I have them stashed throughout the house, to where you’re never actually more than 15 feet away from a machete (if you know where they are… which I do). But also I could get that weapon calculus down to 10 feet if I got some more. I hate our consumer capitalist bullshit society which has propped up this American Empire with extreme waste of resources, our own individual wealth, and just the entirety of the Earth to be honest. But there’s still some things you can never have too much of, like machetes, milk crates, tarps, pieces of rebar… all those basic foundations for survival during tight times or thriving during complacent periods. And you don’t need to be fancy about none of those things. You can find $200 machetes online if you want, but if you’re getting a $200 machete, you’re missing the entire point of machetes in my opinion. I mean, you don’t want a cheap machete that dulls immediately and can’t be sharpened, just like you want a decent mil tarp as well. Milk crates are milk crates for the most part, and with rebar, quarter inch isn’t as strong as half inch, but you’ll never run out of uses for quarter inch rebar. Trust me, it’s universally useful.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Will Survive (45s on 33)

Surviving and vibing in the dying empire - 
ain't no prepping for the inevitable dawn 
of next era after escaping this quagmire 
of spiritless consumption - daily daze of yawn. 
Looking forward to more localized existence, 
less western civilized belligerence about 
how right now somehow puts a progressive distance 
far past old shit... Same foolish ass humans still shout 
loudest to be most right. Meanwhile, I sit outside 
on milk crate each night watching lights which is manmade 
but also far beyond what man can attain. Pride 
in Earthly abstractions, chasing worth getting paid, 
while cosplaying god - all too much toil and trouble. 
I'd rather make a throne from smooth piece of rubble. 

SONG OF THE DAY: Mawwal

I’ll be honest… really hoping that in the next decade of my life I move far deeper into cultivating an Omar Souleyman-level æsthetic. Shit, he’s only about 8 years older than me, and has been a singer and farmer most his adult life, having released over 500 albums under his name, many of which are just ones he made at weddings and gave to the married couple, but then got bootlegged and sold at music kiosks throughout the Arabian Peninsula. His rise in international notoriety has coincided with him living in exile in Turkey since 2011 as his native Syria has been in a state of conflict, specifically his home of Tell Tamer aka Tal Tamr aka “the hill of dates”. I almost bought 11 lbs of dates on ebay in the middle of the night the other evening, because fuck man, dates are some wonderful shit, especially when you haven’t eaten all day, whether fasting or by accident, and you pop one in your mouth and it’s an explosion of natural sweetness. Globalism as a means for corporate sterilization of the Earth, where everybody anywhere can eat a fucking piece of shit Big Mac, that’s some gross shit. But the ability to appreciate things outside your local microcosmic existence, for me as a rural southerner by birth, so that I can love on some dates and listen to Omar Souleyman, I appreciate that at least. But the globalism of the powerful is about business, not culture, and that’s why you got dumbasses out here being engineered by the interent to protest for re-opening normal ass basic ass boring as fuck businesses and acting like that’s an act of freedom or liberation. Americans are so goddamned lost. We buy iPhone cases at kiosks in nearly abandoned malls as opposed to wedding singer mixtapes at kiosks in open air clusterfucks of humanity booming with life (and business). Business without culture will always die, and the further we get into our culture of America just being consuming shit, the easier it will be for it all to just turn into rubble. Fuck it. I can’t wait to stack rubble into a mixtape kiosk, tarp stretched over top for shade, nice pallet table, my overstock limited but stored in three milk crates easily hauled on my old Corolla chassis pulled by goats. Shit’s gonna be dope. I hope to have really nice chrome wheels on my goat-pulled Corolla chassis wagon too. The future’s gonna be great, despite what anybody tries to make you worry. You just gotta envision that good shit.

SL4M DVNK C0NT3STS 0FF M1LK CR4T3S...

slam dunk contests off milk crates,

trees and clouds act as judges;

imaginary third place

M1LK CR4T3S, T4RPS, 4ND M4CH3T3S...

milk crates, tarps, and machetes -

basic foundation for them

shadow autonomous zones

SONG OF THE DAY: Across the Lines

It’s fucked up how all this old ass music that was resistance to Reagan era bullshit is so appropriate now. Globalism/Clinton/Bush regimes combined with fall of Soviet Union got us (Amerikkkans) all feeling like eternal growth was actually some sustainable bullshit, and we could just refinance away our worries forever. Now look at us… all the cards about to fall the fuck down, every bubble floating higher than ever sitting there with the solstice full moon shining through its thin ass veneer, about to burst. And of course all this music that’s like 30 fucking years old is suddenly more appropriate than it even was back when it was made. What the fuck is wrong with people? Why do we love to ignore the truth in consumption of useless shit? Oh yeah, that’s a neurological reaction to try and escape painful or difficult things. Capitalism and all its fucked upness is entirely based on neurological triggers, though it’s always been framed as psychological and rationalized as if you have a choice. The mass engineering of consciousness performed by both mainstream political parties in 2016, and continuously since then, utilizing digital algorithms and manipulation to cause people to make “choices” is the ultimate realization of that neurological yakubian trickery. That’s why the shit’s gonna fall apart. They been pushing too hard. But remember – milk crates, tarps, and machetes; milk crates, tarps, and machetes; milk crates, tarps, and machetes. And maybe some goats too.

SONG OF THE DAY: Anar

[today's song blurb is also a freestyle sonnet, because I am a dirtgod who does such things] 

Traveling the vacated wasteland of what's known, 

innate desire to roam denied by days' trifles, 

but bound to explode with gone mode, love chances blown 

and bridges burned - back tracking consciousness stifles 

disappearance; dystopia ended up far 

more mundane than expected, wasting most my time 

distracted by digital poisons, psychic scar 

tissue thickens into metaphysical slime 

and sludge; fog so thick you think you're woke while broken, 

clear-headed while ripped by septic tide lacking sand 

beneath barefeet; end times ancient texts had spoken 

of remain horizon only; still though, well-planned  

peeps stockpile milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps; 

soundtracks for disappearance like angelic harps. 

SONG OF THE DAY: Nar Djenetbouba

Tinariwen music makes me want to walk the earth. I have a step counting app on my robot phone now, which is really dumb because my best walks are done when I have left my phone at home. My bestest best walks are when I have left my phone at home and the battery is dead on it already. My ever bestest best walks are when I have left my phone at home because the battery is dead and the power grid has failed and no one’s sure when it’s coming back. And then I walk. Tinariwen makes great music for such walks, walking the earth like that, in fact I’d say their sound is innate to the nomadic spirit of people who seek. I am a seeker. Work is frustrating because work is not it. My creative life is great because it is scratching at it, but I don’t get to scratch nearly as much as my heart wants to, nor nearly enough to express all the creative itches the universe shoots into my heart on a constant basis. But Tinariwen is great for walking from here to the third horizon while thinking about who would be on your post-societal collapse team of 144, and plotting out where you’re gonna stash the caches of milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps. I’ve been contemplating pretty heavily the past few days a Wild Thing Philosophy, which leans heavily upon milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps. In fact, a key tenet of Wild Thing Philosophy, at least in the physical realm, is that principle of MCMPaT (milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps). But ultimately, as is the way of seekers, the metaphysical realm is like a million physical realms, all layered on top of each other, into a giant wash of truth. Tinariwen is great for thinking about that shit.

4NC13NT J4P4N3S3 W00DCVT...

ancient japanese woodcut

of stolen milk crate in snow,

thirteenth century, dirtgod

4LL MY F41LVR3 D3M0NS P4CK3D...

all my failure demons packed

up in milk crates, collected

over the years randomly

W3ST3RN C1V1L1Z4T10N'S...

western civilization's

peak masterpiece - the simple

yet most effective milk crate

M1LK CR4T3S C1ND3RBL0CKS SCR4P W00D...

milk crates cinderblocks scrap wood

lazy dog scratching hot spots

long dead trucks with farm use tags

0RG4N1Z4T10N4L SK1LLS...

organizational skills

plus milk crate life means quickest

distribution of best shit

1NSTRVM3NT4LS 1N B4CKGR0VND...

instrumentals in background

of backyard, rock solid junk

store speakers squat on milk crates