Baby Benny Wildfire
A musical visual linguistic inferno cultivated in the Niagara Escarpment. Many hear the fire crackling, but few ever smell it's smoke, or see it in action, for it is so very tiny, and only occurs in the crevasses.
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"I love black guys, I used to hate them, but now I love ‘em…
(minutes later)
I have three boyfriends"Naomi -
Tell me to be somewhere I’m already at,
someone get my cat a yoga mat,
to stretch and shed his coat there,
watch my hand,
your eyelids are wood shop clamps
watch my hand,
conducting symbolic techno-trance
dance parties in my living room,
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The speechless reality of the screens was overlooked.
A relationship not primarily with fellow viewers,
but with the technology;
conduit held closer than content.
Yellow marked trails muddled by various footwear,
speechless, yes,
but as speechless as an all encompassing embrace.
Foliage from any angle,
with roots that grew at a frame rate slow enough not to bind your feet,
and fast enough to walk over;
giving each step leverage.
The white cedar’s will teach you pacing.
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Netflix you have robbed me!
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Guitar-hero
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"We’re still a bunch of weirdo artists from Montreal that somehow have made it kind of somewhat big,” Win says, “but we never really stop feeling like outsiders."
ACL Interview - Win Butler
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"to paraphrase myself: “if 2 borrow is 2 take and not return…then all yall bitches have BORROWED my new album and im PISSED” …..PAY UP"
Gangsta Fleet Fox
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sculpting the ninja,
sculpting the air transmuting tremolos into the deepest furs,
the prolific needle reading the etchings of the gaseous,
tapping the tempo of the strident,
a face is molding over the hypothetical claw,
an organ is pumping out pillows of dust that lay on us,
not us on them,
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“Truth does not pay homage to any society,
ancient or modern. Society has to pay
homage to Truth or die. Societies should be
molded upon truth, and truth has not to adjust
itself to society.”Notes: 3
Reblogged from: golden-linings -
Plays:
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When people ask what style of music you play:
If I could put in words what my music sounds like then I wouldn’t have to play it in song
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Plays:
Walking through the re-use center, looking at the old CD/RW drives, the old walk-man’s so recognizable they might as well have been your old black sony walk-man. All those video games we’d anticipate coming out, all of the toys we couldn’t afford to own and yet the imagination’s we had to transcend all of that, the world’s that we created, the personalities of everything we owned and all of those objects turned to living creatures in our eyes. These artifacts we leave behind that enthralled us lay sprawled in boxes. All of the toys we ever wanted are getting tossed onto shelves and sold for prices more representative of what it costed to make them. I can’t believe they were that disposable, they seemed so immortal, the movie characters, fucking Heath Ledger. The unhealthy amount of times I re-watched A Knights Tale. That overwhelming giddiness that would come over me, that insatiable appetite for the romantic, the spontaneous, adventurousness that those films showed me. That if you were with the people you loved, and were truly living together then that carried such a majestic momentum that could send you through the most unbelievable circumstances.
We used to just know, just have this insight that we would be with each other, and now it’s rare that we share more than a few sentences,
even rarer that we reveal the entirety of the love that has continued within us- that doesn’t happen…
“I’ll meet you here tomorrow, independence day, independence day, independence day.”
I sure wish it so..
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