Saturday, January 29, 2011

live videos from performance 21/01/11

@ idgaff. Unfortunately the talented Waterbeast was suffering from an acute case of death that night, so we're pretending to be a three piece. He seems to be getting better, so his monstrous bass playing should be back by the end of next month.

Massive thanks to jodie christ and blackjac for videoing/audioing/lighting the show. Your beer is in the mail!

Thursday, January 27, 2011


blistering breakneck somethingorother vortex of fuck, the holy urethra dragging purgatory to flipping bits. The frankensence emanations snapping pure lines in an arc. no ark velocirapid whirlpool it draws everything upon itself. every quark is an atom is a life is a futon is pan fucking pan. pangaea, the similarities are endless once you dig enough. everything comes back to geometry but maths is a bad trick, woolen lashes come over volcanoes, acnitic eruptions of lust and come and al gore. the theories are always wrong, let me come at this from a worry-wart.

dropped from the plane of existence, every movement to the left catapults me through the sky, when you're still you're almost static, when you move you careen unto oblivion. the dance terrifies me but i'm weighted and weightless, momemtum is a constant around this exponential turnpike. at a high enough volume everything becomes white noise, coded messages in the radiation, universe the size of a small cock.

fall on forever
never let me slow down


Tuesday, January 11, 2011

the kraken in the noodle-box

x ----------------------- x


an epiphenomenon. must jot this down. On both sides of the above hyphen line, are x's. I can see they're both x's. The pattern's the same. However...obviously the photons that transmit the two x's to my eyes are vastly different. They go through tangled, unpredictable trajectories containing a god-number of other subatomic particles to get to my eyes. If i could map all of the physical interactions that take place for the photons to hit my eyeballs, where would the "x" be? How on Thor's name could i possibly say the two groups of interactions were remotely similar, let alone classify both of them as x's?

{scoffs a mouthful of noodles}

My computer's memory contains, in two locations, a string of numbers that essentially mean "draw an x on the screen". Those numbers might be the same, but they're in different locations in the memory, composed of a plethora of different electrons passing through different circuits. Those circuits are made of molecules which are contantly interacting with more god-numbers of other subatomic particles constantly. Again, if i could theoretically map all of the interactions that take place on a subatomic (or even atomic!) level that "made up" those two numbers, in two locations, in this computer's memory, they'd be almost perfectly different. Yet it's still, obviously, two x's.

{mmm delicious noodles, chunk of chicken, mmmm}

Evidently, those underlying layers are essentially irrelevant for me to understand the "x-ieness" of something. Those x's are made of gadzillions of physical interactions, but those interactions make no difference to the fact that i see two x's. The x's are practically irrelevant to the make-up of their constituent, subatomic parts.

Consciousness is similar - like "x-ieness", it's an emergent property of hell-tons of subatomic interactions. A thought is a thought, regardless of the molecular composition of the neurons that make it up. Probably even regardless of which neurons make it up.

{look up with a start...did that noodle box jiggle? No, of course not...keep typing}

But...hmm....i've already proven (at least, to my own satisfaction!) that it's impossible for there to be a fundamental particle in the universe. A hypothetical microscope could peer through layers forever - past atoms, quarks, possibly strings - and never come to an end of smaller particles. I wonder what patterns, like "x-ieness" or consciousness, would crop up at different levels, depending on where you look at something? If lower layers are irrelevant to the higher levels they make up...


at this point i lean over my noodle-box, prepararing to shovel another flavoursome morsel of food into my face. The noodles look practically identical to me...but each one is fundamentally unique, so comprehensively original that the idea of "noodle-ness" becomes irrelevant before the infinity of increasingly vast subsubsubatomic differences. My stomach churns, i feel nauseous as i stir my chopsticks through the viscous muck. There are certainly more unique configurations of particles in each noodle than there are people on earth. More than stars in a galaxy, more "individualities" than i could begin to comprehend. My mind crumples. Sweating, stirring, like some horrific god - would a country, or a planet, notice the differences between humans? How is a human unlike an protein?

I feel bile rise up my throat. I almost, unthinkingly, devoured a universe. The noodles squirm in the box before me. Noodles larger than gods, satay-flavoured multiverses, cavorting and flailing, creating incomprehensible heiroglyphics and i'm getting smaller and smaller before this alpha and omega of cheap japanese food.

Like tendrils, the noodles encompass my very body, i am absorbed by them - surrounded. I try to summon help from a colleague at a neighbouring desk, but the floury tentacles are tight around my chest and i cannot breathe. I writhe around, trying to skewer this great beast with my now-ineffectual chopsticks. My limbs are pulled back as the monstrosity continues to emerge from its oily, paper prison. With my utmost might i manage to croak out a half-muffled cry - my colleagues look across the cubicles, shake their heads, and turn blankly back to their pcs. Useless fucking accountants! Chest compressed by this titan's grip, i can feel my ligaments strained to snapping point. The chopsticks fall the floor. I am powerless. It is like cthulu risen, the vengeful FSM of fast-food. I hear a dull crack and my brain swims, the realisation that my elbows aren't supposed to bend that way, the word "run! run!" flashing before my fading vision, as helpful as an air-raid siren after the bombs have hit, and i am helpless. Like the heroine of some squid-based hentai, i succumb. Lungs burn, thoughts fragment, colleagues mutter, i know naught but red and agony as i disappear from consciousness.

This is why you shouldn't read science books on lunch-break.

Based on a true story (incredibly!)


upcoming album - why we've been so quiet


ok, we've been quite quiet lately, show & blogwise. Have we lost our fury?!?! Did we resign ourselves to office-worker normalcy?!?!?! Is contagious soup-kitchen feigning fellatio sludge?!?!?!?

Answers: yes; no; sometimes.

Anyway, enough pompous shite! You will be utterly disinterested to hear that we've spent the last couple of months in a furious frenzy of song-writing and mental masturbation, in order to create the next installment of the dropbunny saga. Details are still mostly being kept under wraps at this stage, suffice it to say we're heading into the studio in March, and the album is a 19 track monstrosity that picks up from where Hypothesis left off.

I'm incredibly excited about this. It will be a lot more...constrasty? than Hypothesis - more abrasive, more technical, more groovy, darker, brighter, dancier, more austere. This album will mark the first determined steps towards a lunacy hinted at towards the end of the last album. Sorry to prattle like a prat about this, as mentioned, i'm incredibly excited @_@

ALSO IN THE WORKS: db are also releasing our first book, which should be released within the month. More on that to follow.

be good!