Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Bare music
Sun, 07 Jan, 2024 09.07 UTC

I recall a conversation I had with Jeremy in 2013 that can be vaguely associated with the so-called _music of the spheres_. Jeremy was searching for music with no emotional content. His reasons were slightly different than my own, but the search itself is similar. And in addition to the search itself, I aim to CREATE music without emotional content, or, rather, with an emotional content so vague or abstract that it won't be something _enforced_ onto the listener. I think Jeremy's search originated in the di...

Sat, 30 Dec, 2023 13.23 UTC

Ah - bandwagons! **Bandwagons**, I say! I shall jump on a _bandwagon_ now. Which _bandwagon_ is this, you ask? It is the _prompt_ bandwagon. I've noticed that over the last several months, or perhaps over the last several years or even perhaps over the last several epochs, other humans react to series of words called _prompts_. These reactions become creations. For example, on the only social network on which I still participate, _poetry prompts_ come up in my "home" timeline frequently. It seems that I f...

Tue, 26 Dec, 2023 08.49 UTC

My friend Christian speaks often of _sheep_. I'd say he mostly does it in the political sense and in specific concerning vaccines. He has a poor opinion of vaccines in general and this may stem from related illnesses he's had because of vaccines during his lifetime. It may also stem from other things, but those are matters I'd rather not discuss as no thing political has any place in this blog. I'll start again. My friend Christian speaks often of _sheep_. He's mostly used the term in the context of someo...

Sat, 09 Dec, 2023 08.42 UTC

Vlasta called me. How she had my number is anyone's guess. She called me and I was in Prague. Why I was in Prague is anyone's guess. _Come pick me up at the bus station._ That's what she said. Or it wasn't _exactly_ what she said, but it was close. How close is anyone's guess. So I arrived to whichever place she had declared and I picked her up. What did I pick her up in? I picked her up in my arms with an embrace. After all, it had been 18 years since we'd seen each other. She had aged, but not as much a...

Jenn dubois
Fri, 17 Nov, 2023 19.31 UTC

On the drive up to Lubbock from Seminole today for my father's surgery, I was suddenly gripped by the memory of lying on my back on the floor of Jenn DuBois's apartment in Galveston. Dave was also present, and later that same evening he appropriated my truck. And luckily, my SHOVEL, which incidentally was one of my brilliant gifts for the beginning of the 23rd year of my life, was in the "toolbox" that stretched from side to side in the bed of the truck. More about that later. I was lying on my back in Je...

Tue, 14 Nov, 2023 14.15 UTC

My name is Shambal Brambel and I enjoy spiking peoples' urine samples with drops of vodka. You may ask why I would do such a seemingly cruel thing. Well, personally, I don't find it cruel at all. I consider it one of the most benevolent acts I've ever participated in. _Participate_ may be the wrong word to use since I carry out the whole shebang myself, but I shan't edit the previous sentence because I can also consider the _job_ (spiking peoples' urine samples with vodka is no longer simply a _thing_ or an...

Sat, 26 Aug, 2023 09.07 UTC

We extracted cases and cases of jars from the _dispensa_ and from the two storage units on the other side of the _finca_. Some had been placed there nearly two decades ago. They were cherries and figs and myriad other comestibles preserved for an unknown future in this realm by a person who no longer lingers in said realm. She was a product of another time, of a generation and a mentality that never accustomed itself to an abundance now taken for granted. We forced each jar open with tines of forks and no...

Sat, 05 Aug, 2023 07.51 UTC

I listen to Arve Henriksen as I sit in the _Sala de Estar_ in Frezzie. The house and its surroundings are brimming with various in-laws. There must be over a thousand here. I'm not sure what the food and / or water is laced with that allows them to breed in such a fashion. Now that I think of it, it may not be the food and / or water at all, but the over-exposure to radiation which is present in the Mediterranean environs. Whatever it is, in-laws sprout from every crevice. They don't even have to pipe each ...

Inner dialog
Sat, 22 Jul, 2023 08.12 UTC

So, Mirka was driving. I don't know the make and / or model of the vehicle because (one) I am oblivious to the automobile world and (two) everything else happening may have been a bit distracting. In the passenger's seat was an abomination. What sort of abomination was it? It could have been a very kind abomination for all I know. I am unsure. Whatever personality traits it had, it was still an abomination, and I'm not only stating that in regard to its appearance. There was a particular smell. It wasn't ex...

Wed, 19 Jul, 2023 07.16 UTC

The following is from the book I'm currently reading: > Alice, as previously formulated, resided more in my memory than in the depleted original container. I'm making note of this, or, rather, beginning a blog entry this evening so I can gunny it out on the morrow morn. Most likely, I'll have finished the book, as I am close to the close and shall begin reading forthwith. Many fascinating ideas lie within, though I'll most likely just touch on this one. So who is this Alice, anyway? In Lethem's _As She C...

Outsider music
Selling out
Sat, 15 Jul, 2023 17.44 UTC

After much speculation over quite a bit of time, I've come to the conclusion that the "standards" of production concerning sonic "normality" are tricks. They apply to a very small percentage of the music making population. They have been refined over decades to appeal to the lowest common denominator. And refined even more now to appeal to those who consume music through streaming services. Like most who are in the habit of composing and recording our own music, I have fallen for this trick time and again...

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2023 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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