VoreComplex

VoreComplex

VoreComplex

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There are limited words. I hope there are not none though. It really is horror. The cover is just any old thing, by some artist I must still source adequately. They'd need to be credited, I think. In the meantime, best just get these thoughts out, for another long night. Dark art scares me - it's competent, but it scares me. I shall hope that this is an innocent example. My audio is bad in this; I would recommend headphones (and for a few reasons, easily guessed).

https://www.bitchute.com/video/Kw441dGDgNFQ/ - (warning - horrendous content; if necessary to know)

What it says in the foreground of the clip. A few of those heinous personal opinions encapsulated in a little TTS back-and-forth; now a mini-essay diary. Artists... oh dear, it gets ridiculous at times; off-kilter bordering on extreme - a little unrealistic perhaps. It's not my best social commentary. A few notions may be appropriate though. They're all genuine worries on my part. The cover is a segment of Roman Dirge's dark comic art. It tangentially reminded me of the over-medicating and over-pathological psychiatric nomenclature applied to reasonable childhood behaviors, of which there are a great many.

Don't worry - there is new music on the horizon. I'm just keeping it a little hush-hush for the moment. Hence these small, erratic vlogs. As before, I'd recommend headphones, as both my missing teeth, and also the poor primary recording quality of the new device render some of these clips hard to understand when played out loud. I also speak quite rapidly, at times, despite all the umm-ing. Yet more Jacek Yerka, as a cover fragment. He's one of my favourite artists. I was looking for one called "Illicit Light-making" but this one will do nicely instead. I'll provide links to my cousin's novel when it's finally ready for distribution.

Just a few diary notes, testing out an extremely cheap second-hand "retro" digital camera I acquired today - I don't like having this sort of material on my phone usually (although, admittedly, it's not a smartphone, thankfully...). The audio quality is not great. I would recommend headphones. Disclaimer-of-sorts: I do not condone violence. If you're under threat or danger though, might as well have a slight leverage over how that pans out. Also, I am still unrepentant when it comes to practical anti-fashion, and thus dressed in that darn panda outfit. The cover painting is another fragment of Jacek Yerka's art - it exemplifies the modern world, in my eyes.

Just what it says on the vid, really. Mild catharsis from some things I've been considering. The art is a segment of a piece I like by Ian Miller. It reminds me of some of my music.

I don't tend to debate her over such issues anymore. No point; just a waste of time mutually. If you can ignore the character assassination ultra-grouchiness, I think it makes a few relatively valid points regarding Modern Art though. She's certainly very patient to put up with *me* in the first place - a traditional Catholic man and a Wiccan woman with a satanic/Crowleyan worldview; what a combo. Also, I don't particularly agree with PJW on much. This clip we watched resonated though. I think we get on better these days; an enthusiastic Latin passion detente. The art points are, really, what I think are important to note. The cover image is a segment of a piece by John Blanche - it reminds me of Abby.

More of those memories; yet more dust in the wind.
A couple of films that did touch a nerve for me; a rare occurrence.
Another design I have loosely based one of my (potential) tattoos on. This one's by Jacek Yerka. There's more to it than this. I like this level though. Jim Morrison's "Roman wilderness of pain" springs to mind. The skin-grafts failed, after a while. In a strange way, I'm quite glad for severe psoriasis, sometimes, these days. It trains the mind to relax, and yet to cope.

A few memories; dust in the wind.
A bit of odd art as cover - it's a tattoo I have. The original coloured design here is by "Brom" though. The cross is cropped out. It's slaying in an appropriate manner though, I hope.

Approximately. I think she had a small laugh (too) somehow. I love my stepdaughter.

I hope so. Lots more to attend to though. What do those remarkably silly and dull and boring (and thick) musician-types get up to on the days that they're not writing Electro-Industrial Dark Ambient Hell-scapes?

What it says on the tin-esque material, I suppose.
Disclaimer: I prefer peace. One day I'd even like to consider Peace. Please don't make it *too* hard for me as that only thwarts those former possibilities a little. Sadly.
Oh course... just asking that makes no darn difference to some people. Oh well.
Naturally, - preternaturally? - I tend to put my foot in it a lot interpersonally. Internationally, even.
One can only devour so much sh**e though.

PS. I do have rather a fair few friends in the US. I'm not *that* xenophobic. I think they're pretty tolerant people actually. They wouldn't have to be, by default, but it's good to know they are. Especially when I put on my crappy accents.

Fault Lines - (VC new vid mix)

i.e. look, wake up, someone. It's not *that* nice out there...
It's even worse than that actually.

Can you spot the visual/contextual complex metaphors.
If not, you need to relax and get a better scope.

I have a few for recreational amusement.

Just in case.

NPC "zombies"? Not my kind of target area, exactly.
Thankfully, I am in no possession of even x 1: the good ol' L113-MK-[blah blah blah]-whatever...
But have discharged that permutation of weapon in times passed, and even imagined, back then, those being blank rounds, that I may have missed a tree.

I bet the wobbly effects on this will annoy *someone*, even if the "racket" is not to their tastes. Best consider what some of these annoying fecks have got up to, actually.

More of a poem. I'm one of those poor daft fools who genuinely enjoys Wilfred Owen; Siegfried Sassoon; Matthew Arnold; Gerard Manley-Hopkins; William Butler Yeats; Philip Larkin, and... oh so many more. Not that many, but a few more. Hungarian poetry is ferociously apt. I like reading "Saki" too.

No idea. No idea at all. Quietly tiptoeing around the depths.

Yes... that dark thingy. I am not so fond of it. As I wrote recently to a friend: "I don't understand how people*can* be drawn to dark music actually, outside a very select criterion i.e. cathartic sensations expunged to deal with their experiences in a frankly hideous modern world, or, primarily from a non-musician public aspect, because they're psychopathic, switched-off to the realities of horror, or just a bit thick. I'd recommend Arvo Pärt to you. He's a very pleasant and versatile composer. I listened to Bryan's top-of-page song, and watched the video. It near-traumatized me, it was so good. I recoiled in absolute existential horror. The good sort of evil - that is, no capital E. The rest of really dark music is audio terror committed by talent-less nihilists."

I'm not even sure if mine is music anymore, or - hopefully - benevolent (albeit very fierce) psychoacoustic PSYACT -1 i.e. 1 x Official British Army Manual (style; and I do own it so might as well assimilate it slowly) PSYOP tester..

Bryan's band is here: https://www.elitefitrea.com

[GRAHLFLOIN MK1] = available x 1 - unfortunately, until I deign/design a better, more effective historical re-creaction setup by myself, it's mine so far, but a mild sorry.
I'll get one of those *sophisticated* Mace thingies right eventually.
In no way would any daft sod in the universe want to use one of these beasts of despair, but then again, neither would I.
Unless someone's genuinely trying to kill you though, in which case, I suppose, fair play. Might as well get them to fleck off.
The music of the cosmos?
Bells tinkling in the winds?
Almost.
That's a Disclaimer, by the way.
It's good to read those.
I do hear/read that a bloke entered the SWW with a sword, and another with a bow though. So, hmm? What do we make of that?

PS. Much as the space is difference to those who adopt American model(s), UK prepping is different a little, and indubitably harder to transmit to the local populace. This country is still hobbled by long years under the yoke, and most are utterly switched off, or perhaps a little wimpy at thinking outside the box, or as I say and ponder in the silence of my head "oh pleeeeease people, get the f**king hint - without change and a fighting back, we've got 3-5 years until it's all buggered up, and by 10? Brr... I don't want to think about it - though have". I like to define my spaces by what they would be most useful as, and not just in a glib lack of imagination taking them for what they ostensibly are. lots more re-arranging out there. I hope you like the little subtle details in this.

The area of Harwich where I live was built again shortly after the formal end of the SWW. On burnt red ashes. I can't imagine that would have been too easy. This is a town lodged in strangeness, but I like it here. It does have city status though, somehow. Thankfully I am a few miles back from that, across woodland, and the concrete grey-green edge-lands of a very wild place. Good. Even the city limits are about a mile away, across a small green, or up a hill.

Counter-subversive? i think that's the best term for this. My other half's father was an British Military Engineer in the late 40's, I am informed. I'm not. But I wouldn't mind confusing him a little bit. I admit, I have received a modicum of The British Army's training, in an official capacity. The rest nowadays I just make up as I go along, with whatever seems useful. i like National Service generally, so impose it on myself as a quiet duty. If I had a different degree of free time, I'd try to go for The Territorial's 15 UK PSYOP Regiment. I'm just a little too stubborn though. I tried the preliminary resources and contact-making for the MI5 too, till they pissed me off too much with all their "crazy antics", if anyone ever follows the news of a less than worthy sort. There's worse than that out there. I can't say I like an entirely desk-based indoor '"job", preferring a great deal of outdoor adventure, usually solo, and with the setup one would require for that approach + rather a lot of not-quite utter terror; if more than mild surprise. However, seeing as I don't work, obviously... well... what else could one do, I suppose. Join "Fiverr", maybe? Hmm... I wonder if they'd set me up in one of these roles as a 1-unit warfare factory. I suspect Porton Down or Raytheon may have a little more than £5 to chuck out, but still, this man remains stubborn, and besides, I do not suspect they would appreciate the competition, mad as it would be. As would be best.

Darn for that

Get on with it, I'm bored. I'm always a bit worried every time I share this music video I made on this topic. This is - very, very basically, my ideas for the great death pit of Ur, moving considerably forward through to the era I have now selected for myself to study for the next coup (yup) of months, namely, 1710-1946. I may ask for opinions & such, but don't really like to cheat my way through - i.e. in a rather ironic sense, if there is a visible click reaction to this, or indeed *any* comment, my mind will temporarily scamper away in ultimate fear as, yet again, I have inculcated myself with the anal-minded necessity to feel a mite of paranoia that it may offend someone or other. I'm long past caring - as of, hmm... over 23 years, by bizarre anecdotal (not exactly her fault... what an unusual first girlfriend - of all these nagging little possibilities... i do miss her, in moments of memory) tactlessness - if it offends my now-usual sordid fascination minions, but for anyone else... please, - be as gentle as one could consider attempting to be.

I'm very, very, very timid as a man, but have been known to attempt to graciously assassinate people with the extremely optimistic notion of timed evisceration. it would be unlikely to be with words. It probably wouldn't work, but ... okay, okay... I do have a little of an angry side now and again, and can make a little noise-experience a bit louder than I have ever presented to my "new" family. Even to my girlfriend, actually, though it is best to candidly yet carefully admit that we do argue fairly often, to a degree balance spread-set of confusions that cause a particularized consternation to my mind, and certainly wouldn't set a good example. This quaint little bumbling voice I do.... oh no, not exactly. It's a resounding shame to have to hide that from them, but for the very best - really.

Power? But it's okay if you don't like it. I'd like to make that clear. I'd struggle to understand how someone *could* like it. If you dislike it, and dislike me also by connectivity though... well... oh who knows. All Hell could break loose. Ironically... a down-click would, yup, hurt my feelings more, but I'm sure words would enervate me a bit also. But... oh enough waffle. Just for the sake of sticking it *somewhere*, up goes "Moriah's Shower Party [less tame version]". I suppose one could even deliberately use it as on of those movie trigger things, driving me out of the room in inchoate irritation, if they wanted to manipulate me a little, or, by my sense of humour "release Grimorkh", to wearily plod out in his glasses and Crombie; 3/4 length; Italian cut; Marks'n'Sparks (inherited from my Dad) and encourage the day along. What I'd do next is anyone's guess though. Probably go and have a coffee, perhaps? Enough bland myopia. base meant of alino. = small pun. What did happen in the basement of the Alamo, on its worse days?

PS. I've got this horrible notion that people actually do make animal sculpture art. I have no idea where, but one current of mind would suggest out in the wilder areas of... oh... it's just this shivery feeling (only to be considered in daylight) that Langau etc. area, is not a nice vicinity. You'd - by beginner's imagination only - prefer two squads. One would have to be quite gnarled. The other quiet yet enthusiastic, yet possibly both comparatively freaked to all holy righteous trauma-terror. Just a very long-term pipe dream. Probably not for me, at least... not for a while and only if certain other things, of some discreet misfortune, were to occur first. It's good to have these little aspirations occasionally. Or I suppose, hopefully, I could just be utterly wrong. It's not unlikely.

Thank God the gray loading is gone... it took so long to load up. No fault of anyone's at all. But my God... staring beyond it, no. Not quite through it. The sensation of Abyss is so cruel on any-most mind. And not on a few, I suspect. This vessel of the cosmos (slight sniff there) is dead. But the manner of that death, I do not think, beyond irony, could be art. It's a shame people don't hang these days, but my personally selected sortof (ah, that accused yet useful filler word) possibility-inclination would be resoundingly more satisfying.

Irish nobility? Yeah? Moderately large 'ha'! Oh, doesn't matter. On a less amusing note, it's frustrating being the - suspiciously - last of one's line. Might as well have a go at just about any old notion. Small long-term wonder, did those interesting nurses back there in C'ford deliberately sterilize me, chop my cock into pieces, circumcise me (just in case, ugh) and enact fell incompetent ritual art via ye old hypospadias playabout just because... yes.. How very, very, very interesting. Most were lovely, I would like to feel. It's a nice memory being sat in that little bath as a young'un as they tore that barbed tube out of my cock, but I do often wonder what a few may have been thinking. I called my cock my "little tummy" - but no, already I have made a small boo as 'willy' is far more acceptable to most people bar the noble ferociously rigorous laconic sadness of my father. He's Bill to his friends. Otherwise "William" is okay, er.. thanks. Oh shit-arse, she's back.

I called him "daddy bear" as a nickname, a few years back, at that maturity level one gets at that age, but only admittedly from over 260 miles away, as the look in his eyes informs me so very clearly that it would be deathly improper to nickname him to his face. He'd just sigh it off, but..No, I don't like 'Francis' "Man of Steel" Bergoglio. Yet.
Thanks for that one, the usual presumptuous and long-presumptory set of world.
Happens every time I meet a new Christian. x 0 today. I usually like Christians, but there's worse and worse nowadays.
From a remarkably pedant Norman perspective, it would make plain sense. i.e a rather discrete worm. Not to a Kantian bluster though. But oh, no, no, no.. can't be having that, can we.

Power is an awkward name. Near-most every wit-throttled fusht-hound of mankind's personage that I have ever encountered has played with it, off it, or with themselves most likely, and thus been too distracted to notice the spelling... or indeed, ahem cough, cough, etymological foundations. Simple terms: well, it's a mild, sigh, Northern Irish derivation of Parr. Ohh. Dear. I happen to prefer the small village; France, North-East/Eastwards Normandy. Or the house we took in The Gevaudan, and a little less tame
Not many of those gently plodding about these days. I'd like to blame 'the' "Russians" but that would be null. Meanwhile, you have a big hamster, you may get a big fur coat. Well done dear. Lion from Africa? My arse.

Small final note: hmm... did anyone notice this linearly near-logical ramble of mind-guerdons littered dutifully all over my Whorlout marketing videos? Nope. Next. Oh, and incidentally... my own "dreams" were alien star god devils reverse engineering that remarkably irritation-clad lie of nature into my mid inner optical cranial apex about an hour and a half ago after I did please, please, pretty please ask Abby not to feed me her desire to knock me out with some meds by force, resorting very quickly to what I hoped would be a humble pray session - yes, to God, who else? - albeit via the personage of Mr. Hitler - but instead turned into a battle of wits and hair-trigger capitulation, and nascent undefeated terror, with some strange, shadowy-neon comfort animals. Alas, I have not slept so very, very well since. I did give it a go though, which I suppose should count for something. It's hard being an idiot, I would not imagine. - said Mr. Whatever, my personal plant. i.e. this is my Russ Sleep Exp MK2.

But thanks for informing me not to trust him, and how awful he is. 'Cos some silly, dull twats still haven't noticed that.

PS. I was looking for a photograph there. I recall it distinctly in my mind. Haven't seen it online in a while. Nutshell: "ook, I'm white and naked and have no hair [(anymore?)], all four of me, plus myself... splat, splat, splat, hmm/splat... oh, I know, I'll try something he suggested for once and stand very . still... will the others aggression upon my desire not be a'devour them? Am I *really* here finally? Oh, good. Er..." - it's the most inexplicably, harrowingly depressive too-early into WWII photo I've seen yet. There are other ways to describe it, but making a modest garb from one's own blood is about the sort of idea I think could be the best these young maidens of febrility could attempt so far, being at the humble age of around 22. And human. Somehow.

And yes, I dislike dislike buttons also, thank you dislike button. Oh, and people who can watch a movie 5 billion times, or so, but can't read a document twice in case some, oh grr .. slightly irritated man of war would just almost love to.. no. 'Cos would it be that evil machine on the other end. I shall nickname him "Jew" for the moment, but I could have a wee go better than that. Not particularly worried, but the 'gnashchoul' may be of discomfort. Fleischer trench weapons. l heard Interesting backing racket-pleasure. Usual poor sod. Addiction quality; acquiring grim musicians. Not you exactly. Impeccably.

In the most detached manner than I can - i.e. must very well have to, surely, consider this. I am just testing a little hypothesis out on the quad-damned system currently. It would not be to a tactician's favour to release too much of... oh blast, I don't quite know actually. hence why's it's one of those fell late-nite hypotheses I assume.

I'm watching the world's most erudite stand up comedian artist in the background, piecemeal, in live time inscrutability - i.e. by niblets. Thus, I don't think I'll be watching any more of that for the evening. Yes, off to bed in as soon as I can physically make myself for me. Better be damn soon actually, or "Everest" will go a bit spare... no, she's not rotund, I consider other qualities. Oh ... the... irony.

Yes fingers of wax, I did not mean orony. I'm just not an epic typer. I also miss "my" 'beret'. I have no current right nor necessity, actually, to wear one, but it would make for a nice keepsake. The fez, I miss that more. Unlike the perplexing notion of considering this ridiculous anthemic anathema of a hateful song of utmost stupidity.

It's my 2nd least favourite of everything I've written. My least favourite sounds a bit like shave, if you pronounce in in a vaguely Norman-esque British accent creole. Oh well, off it goes into the ether. Coincidentally... my personal sortof "locate and co-companion a beast in the wildes" notion involves invisible greyhound racing - projected by a rather sophisticated bloke of that sort of thing that could linearly spray a ghiest veiloch, plodding along all big and nice and calm, and, just for my rather timid mind, much as it would be fell good, not a hyrax of the modern years. Oldshool mgalocetripohyrox-bear might be fun though. A 4-pack turn of sharp chopped dire-erm....wilderbeests would do although, admittedly, it would keep me in line with the scariness of it all. Musk-oxen barter quite appropriately, being kneeling flies. As such. fesh a hunbit. I've got it in tow now. Great.... hmm.... noo.... not quite yet. Oh well.

Those white male x2 jews down under younder closed decrpit mental hoz...get a life mate, you'd knock me down with a hound. Thus by now your tattered in naeb. Not so smart now was it. by coincidence, look... I don't like you. I'm not going to eat you.

zetelpupe strayed and was rumpled by a cluster-whelp of a headache by now. Yes, well done motta, you've experienced an evil continuum. Runi to you. BLARGWHACK - hmm... well thank God for the little clean moist fairly dry bars. the gral. the gral. the fleishchflur. not so but now to it. it's not really a matter of beating. But 3 sharp whacks around the shield shouylder.... oh dear... I hope she's forgiven me my now. Seems to have. She, ahem, did chuck one of those canister-boxes at my right upper jawline, knocking out a wobbly filling. Oh my. Oh well. Back to the Nile-warrenn.

Ahewm. Sarah Zamberlan. 1x nail, 1 x tree, pin yourself back, no so suffering now. Somehow expect she would be UUH OH - up there.

Hyacinthus casually inserts a huge load of vore crickets. Not a 3-dish platter of howl-scheming mollusc-bishops though, you silly old bugger.

Just more rambling family diary material from a recent walk. I hope I employed the right term for that curious group of people as I was talking to Liberty. From my reading, it does appear to be the case that that is their name. It would be a great shame if one felt obliged to offend them unnecessarily though. I suppose then, that - just in case - it could be prudent just to have a little cursory peek on the off chance that they may have potentially misbehaved themselves once or twice over the course of, say, no longer than 244 years, and could therefore be gently encouraged not to do so in future with the reasonable expressiveness of accurate words. 4000 years would be a little excessive to consider, so I can't see anyone really wanting to do that. What a silly school it would be that would encourage one to have to pursue such a ridiculous endeavor.

Small notion to a friend, earlier: "Oh dear ... I'm doing more reading, ha. I have decided that I am a history fan with the artist's approach to being a computer studies minor, and would one day like to deepen my appreciation of that topic. i.e. I can't study The Cold War and onward as... it's not that it's dull, but the "art" that is interesting in it by analogy is too crass for my taste of mind. On the other hand, Ur is a little staggering. I think I'll settle for 1710-1946. Does that seem sensible in any interpretative sense on your part? I'm not entirely sure how else to phrase this rather untoward yet fascinating (to me) idea. That's for tomorrow though. I can't imagine being fully awake for too much longer, and would indeed appreciate allowing myself a modicum of rest. So I will, as would be somewhat obvious were I not an idiot, ha ha".

Small note to self: you know that old gag "if you want to be one [xyz] (usually politician), you probably shouldn't allowed to be one"... well, seeing as I have been rancorously thwarted in every single teeny little life goal so far, including - yup, wait for it... ever in my entire life having even a single job; not the once... not because, with some suspicion: I couldn't, but because I just cannot be bothered to acquiesce to the notion of having to obtain one, um, could I instead decide that, among a few other things, I wouldn't mind being one of - steady now - "them"-ish, in a amateur capacity, obviously, as, it would, in some clandestine, counter-subversive, antidisestablishmentory sense, broken slightly from an inscrutable nuance of hope, almost be somehow... hmm... not quite fun, yet... complacently invigorating? The straightforward answer would be negative to that, I feel, but still... it's good to wonder these things occasionally.

Thanks school. I shall return to this book later.

And just to mercilessly chop down one of these infuriating neologisms of cognition: by art, I think I probably mean "knowledge". Pretension is almost as irritating as narcissism. Less rhythmic grace to it, also.

A slow-burning chat with Liberty, had very recently. It goes to unexpected places, eventually. A few questions on my part; a few opinions; a few worries; a few answers. I have 13 subscribers and a great dearth of comments. What is there to lose? It's not all great on one's mind, granted, but we do not appear to be cats.

That's a small 'h' in the blurb. I wasn't thinking particularly of that whole issue at first, and was merely concerned with blazing sacrifice in general.

Small spoiler in advance: this is not the full version of this cleaved concept album. For that you need to head over to my Bandcamp page. It's not the easiest premise to explain, even to myself, but I think I'm just experimenting a little with public tolerances. My tolerance for the latter half is weak, and it brings me distaste. I'm quite happy with that acknowledgment - that ghastly second half terrifies me (and I wrote it; composers don't have to love all of their creations). You'd be hard-pressed to find a more horrific, abrasive and downright satanic set of pieces if you tried... well, to listen to anything outside of the oh-so-very-modern hard Industrial and Post-Industrial genre-clusters. That's almost the point really. I remain quite fond of the first 4, and prefer the 5th to the 10th, though from that first boundary point onward it definitely gets harsher on the mind. Silence may indeed be preferable. It's a warning in a way. You'd hope the whole mess of that secondary, lesser chunk burned.

However, there's potentially another strand of meaning to this whole album. I'm just not entirely sure how to enunciate it. When I think of satanic these days I consider all those interchangeable terms... elites, (neo-)Marxists, globalists, etc. - perhaps I wanted to take out a little frustration, in an abstract way; a little hint of stark irreverence, especially if you follow a "reality tunnel" approach. I'll leave this thought as a vague stub. Art deserves a little leeway and spelling it all out is dull. I'm sure I could attempt to pen 10,000 words of pretentious context, but who cares? It's music. Here's the link: https://bleachforthestars.bandcamp.com/album/stark

I read the entirety of Morgoth's "Rage For The Machine" e-book tonight, in one grim, captivated sitting, accompanied by the music of Arvo Part. I'd recommend those articles. I assume everyone on here has read it already, but it filled in a few more details for me at least. I tended to agree with the ideas presented before I downloaded my copy, but it's nice to know I've learnt a few things too. Aside from that, just been messing around with direful sounds. Tomorrow it'll be "Give Us Back The Bad Roads" by John Waters, possibly to someone cheerful like Gorecki. It's nice to do more than play complex un-enticing zither-y drum-carnage sometimes.

Note to a friend on the topic: "...I thought I'd mull a little bit more over concerning Stark. I don't know if it's readily apparent from the presentation, but I notice a whole new aspect to it now. As of writing my blurb, it all kind of fell into place. What an extremely dark new concept, in a genuine - i.e. thought-unsettling - "meta-" capacity. I hope it doesn't stray into aural atrocity. I'm not even sure if I could enunciate quite what I mean by it easily... wavering stubs of intense quasi-thought, at the boundaries of my own appreciation of my work, post-composition; the first 5 now sent to J for his idiosyncratic processing. I don't know if people will pay attention to it. My blasted ability to spot puns and word-plays, and inter-contextual nuances, either in pre-composition or on the spot is a worry for me at times. It's like the "reality tunnels" of Robert Anton Wilson; a linear neural network rabbit hole. I hope the Russian language segments were not too pedantic in construction; a spiral ricochet of hyper-echoes. They foretell Evil. Of course, for most it's just "more of Ben and his pretentious noise escapades". I think I have nailed the narrative down now though. I suppose I can tolerate all the track pieces. I like the first 4 though, and slightly prefer the 5th to the 10th. Now hear this... now hear this. I might as well have called it "Stack". At least the font I chose long-term [is] pleasantly ambiguous from a distance. Rather than reconciling a binary opposition, this album may instead have torn it wider; that already punctured hide. I don't think anyone out in the world will purchase it though ... All these words, and extrapolations - it doesn't have to be any good. I'm sure it would be more experimental to promote it than to call anything in it music, outside of a very discrete sense. I've been listening to Arvo Part for a while in the background on my CD player. A six piece anthology, currently featuring "Adam's Lament", with Welsh musicians performing. A necessary palate-cleanser, for such as this. Goodnight ... Best regards."

You can tell I'm new to all this.

Mastered by J. Stillings at Steel Hook Audio Mastering.
The album has barely sold so I thought I could well just give it away. It lasts over an hour, and is best heard in one go, so make sure you're settled before commencing listening. I do hope you enjoy it.

Yet more new demos. They're really quite different to my usual sound template. As acoustic and "organic" as possible. All beats, as such, are hand-drummed. The rest is zither-playing, distorted sometimes electronically to mimic a scratchy guitar sound; my only concession to my usual computer-music styles.

Benjamin
FEBRUARY 5, 2020 AT 9:30 PM
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I’d rather they could actually perhaps eat chocholate.
It is not necessary to restraint in tongues that which does not speak.
A little nibble block – ahem – bar-set might be useful though till and even if he calms down.
He’s certain majorly peeved.
Give him a while to think about that, with whatever water necesssities could eludicate – nope, reenact life.
Incidentally… what are those tonuges exactly.
Now, look, there’s varying degrees of grim to this.
Oh, cuck-goblins that’s a gnarly ouch oh well off it floats.
as certainces would be moist, and casually flipped into the little yum that is assurance.

Benjamin
FEBRUARY 5, 2020 AT 9:33 PM
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so if 1% of Dachau were caught licking the floor, might as well get a few more into general concensus, with as much ridiclous particle-laughter as could be, erm,… look, it’s a bit complicated, okay? However… oh, doesn;’t matter. Yes.
Epic. Gnarl. This one. Love it. Zoned out on a few of the rest. Hell is not full. So merrily along, stomp stomp stomp, dig a trench with my feet in the ahem miniature rented backyard. Blahshwooshaaaaarrriiieeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaa aaa idjfdgfbi oi gvgg nboig nko ! oh feck it... I've got about 3 hours before they do it all agin. https://www.bitchute.com/video/CuhiQbu1kmWj/ What next
No questions. Just one statement of my own. I promise. so if 1% of Dachau were caught licking the floor, might as well get a few more into general concensus, with as much ridiclous particle-laughter as could be, erm,… look, it’s a bit complicated, okay? However… oh, doesn;’t matter. Yes.
Epic. Gnarl. This one. Love it. Zoned out on a few of the rest. Hell is not full. So merrily along, stomp stomp stomp, dig a trench with my feet in the ahem miniature rented backyard. Blahshwooshaaaaarrriiieeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaa aaa idjfdgfbi oi gvgg nboig nko ! oh feck it... I've got about 3 hours before they do it all agin. https://www.bitchute.com/video/CuhiQbu1kmWj/ What next.I have that album on CD. One of my first decent purchases. The layout chosen inside this building is not optimal. Moving furniture is impossible. I should grab for it tomorrow in daylight. Bed for me now. Goodnight Harald, and best regards.Sending...capitulations do I need to urinate these days. Good morning Harald. Wellgood to know we are enticed into this awkward realisation. Just for the record, I'm not. Well done. Wouldn't mind particularly - i.e. just don't feel like it, however, in best sense possible, for about 4 hours or so, neither does she. Shalla concerns that annoying prayer booth up the road :P. 3 of a, 2 pair bind. Erm... could one by a law of laws? probably not yet. His lore could. Would like to. Other one, mainly. Linear increments. I had a friend at university tryout number one called Kiran. He used to refer to me as 'paddy' whatever, whereas I did have a certain gentle notion that he was a lovely. Patel. Man. Bloke. Thingbloke from up in Birmingham. orcas might worry about narwhals, occasionally, but really, they shouldn't have to, as narwhals aren't ever worried about themselves... but would be unlike to first fight the environment of the humble ice bear of seal bourne vice.Than most popular name in tHE mIDDLE eAST, BEYOND TURPENTINE OR AMBERGRIS - NO, OH BUGGER, TURNED THE CAPITAL LETTER BIG TEXT ON AGAIN... PISSES ME OFF TOO. CUT A ROUND SWISH CUT THE CHOP OF A OX TAIL ACROSSING GYBERRING DONKEY NERDS. jUST TO SACCRIFICE - NOT EVEN KILL, BUT DELIBERATELY SACRIFICE A WHALE MOTHER GOD BOTHERER DOWN LEFT WRONG PLANET THIS TIME, TWITTIES.MEANLORDSDRUMPLEHEIMSTAIRSBYE FER NOO.,WELL, IF ONE IS THYE ALL ARE... IN THE IN DSECT WHROOVMSending...PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY OF VISUALUISATON, HAS DONE ENOUGH SCUBA DIVING TO GET THE SMALL TINTS, SADLY.YES, COMPUTE

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Created 1 year, 6 months ago.

167 videos

CategoryMusic

I hope you like the content: rather unusual music efforts, in the majority. Well, perhaps closer to a vast, wretched load of pitch black, if poetic, moaning. Usually with a horror theme, but in a severe, realistic setting. Some significant nods to political and cultural issues also - I'm on the Right (or neither... but closer to the Right, just post-binary sometimes, on better days), and a practicing Catholic, and Traditionalist i.e. I strive to look after and protect my family, and extended family, and those who come before me in time. Just for the sake of small-scale knowledge, I am severely displeased by the words and actions of Pope Francis, and his ilk.

Occasionally I'll display my acrylics paintings, but apart from that, most of the little display graphics are pieces of my macabre digital art. A few home-life/educating diary entries also, but not many.

Here's my business email address though: [email protected]

Thank you to all for your patience, it will not be an easy view (I would imagine), though may be rewarding to some.

PS. I write too much music. Permutations of apocalyptic Industrial, usually. Here's the main 'hub', as such. You can expand from there. There's really a great deal more: https://vorecomplexself-released.bandcamp.com/

I have a musical side-project called Bleach For The Stars, also found on Bandcamp. That proves to be both louder, and quieter, more serious and raw, and more contained and abstract, and often at the same time. It's quite hard to pin down. Have a go: https://bleachforthestars.bandcamp.com/