(James Matzorkis = Mousetrap Breakfast Serial)
(+ Hilary Taylor = Noxious Consensus)
(+ Hilary Taylor and Temple Fugate = Ideal Fetus)
(+ Stephe DK, Temple Fugate, Hilary Taylor, Jguy = Assassin Whole Mouth Mouth (thumb thumb part out ass ass))
Influences
ghost mice, matty pop chart, frankie bones, lou reed, swamp angel, leslie keffer, sonic youth, nine inch nails, dead peasant insurance, iron oxide, thee scarcity of tanks, 9vhh, house music, the show at the doubting thomas art gallery on november 17th 2007, various supposedly inanimate objects, manny kant, jack salaga, elipha slevi, others i'm sure
Sounds Like
Relevent to questions concerning the knowlege of unchanging essences of substances and their breaking points:
What is is recognized in name or label-what about that can be believed or doubted?
-different names, for example, exist for what is in fact the same thing, across cultures etc.
-yet the thing is still recognized in common to be itself and unchanged. Its title is essentially superficial in this sense (it provides for utility of mental reference only, but does not define give an account of a thing). This implies that weather or not we posit an unchanging essence which is to give things their identity, what defines a thing, even within the sphere of conciousness, does not depend on what we call it. Rather, we recognize its unity as subject and then connect it with a name.
Has an identity a breaking point?
-In the mind, by definition, the answer must be yes, for if it did not then there would be no distinction in the mind between anything and anything else, for then identity of any thing could be stretched to extend into every thing. That is, there would be no limit to the scope of a word’s meaning.
On the other hand, the more strict or all inclusive an account we give for something, the more temporarily it can hold, the more brittle it is with respect to any existing thing, for at this extreme, an account of a thing will include its every attribute, including its position in time.
Again, -if we look at things as essentially not having any unified identity [aside from that they are a part of an existence unified by causal connections; that is, aside from that present states of being flow directly from prior states of being and similarly imply potential future states of being (Gethin, Rupert: p)], instead looking at their individual beings as parts of the same thing, no thing being essentially separate from it; all being one, -then we will be able to observe [conceptually] existence as a whole and in so doing as particular things come into further focus, we will notice, identify and name what we observe to be unified as parts of the larger unity (outside in).
We will be able to refer to particular clusters of events, but that we are able to refer to them does not give them any sort of unchanging essence outside of our understanding. It is curious however, that we refer to some arrangements of things and not others, for example the table is a unified subject in the mind more naturally than the cubic meter of space in front of my nose.
The idea of essence, must be generated in the understanding, for it never perceives it in things. We will give accounts of individual things, but these things will be recognized by their identities, more particularly, what their identities hold in common accross perspectives-the attributes by which they are recognized to fit the definition of the words we use to refer to them. Thus it must be that we cannot bestow essence upon them by definition or in any other sense, but that, within the oneness of existence, identifiable phenomena exist which are recognizable, identifiable, perceptible (almost universally so), and exist and change by varying degrees and in time.
Now, at the outset of this discussion, we set ourselves to the task of defining weather an identity had a breaking point, and further, how it was to be recognized. So far, we have exposed that the answer to this question will depend in large part upon how rigid the definition of a thing’s identity is accepted as being. For, as we said, if we look at all things as being essentially part of the same thing, then they (meaning individual things, parts of the universal whole) can never in themselves change so much as to break that mold . That is, no matter how a thing changes, it can never become not a part of the universe which encompasses everything. Accepting this, everything [made up of “particular things”] does not look like it must in the mind, for the mind conceives of particular things with particular identities, but it appears that nothing has any particular fixed identity, aside from that each thing, however it manifests itself, must necessarily be a part of the universe, for everything is always becoming, but we must define our concepts rigidly enough so that they can be spoken about before they become something else. “I can refer to something by its name only as long as I can recognize that name as applying to it, as it is now and neither -as it might be after it decays beyond the point of my ability to identify it as what it was, nor as it might have been before it came together into the particular unity which I perceive.” But really existing things do not have complete boundaries around what they are. Rather, in reality, all “thises” are only recognizable or distinguishable as they approach this sort of self complete wholeness, but in order to even be perceived at all, they must maintain a link to everything, and through this link, they are inevitably subject to perpetual change:
Despite that things are perpetually changing, we find reality to be clustered rather conveniently. The “tube” connecting one unified cluster of reality to the rest of what is is sufficiently narrow and the clusters themselves are sufficiently unified, that they can be recognized, named and referred to without error. Returning to the initial question, this implies that identities do not break so much as they dissapate. Things are never fixed, but some things appear to us to stay the same and this has to do with the rate at which they change relative to the rate at which we do.
A table holds hostage every important event in history. Nothing goes on without some agreement formed with one in between two sides. Every moment of our lives, tables are arranged around us and we must reach an agreement with the keepers of the other side in order to be free to pass through to some rooms we have not seen before. There are people in there. Yes, life is a great exploration of what has been explored before us. With that understanding our options are so endless that we could never eliminate them all.
A list of tasks;
a container that we must take care not to overfill or empty completely;
an awful dream.
Things were not turning out the way I’d planned. It was dark and I was stumbling around without direction. It seemed that every way I turned I bumped my nose into a wall. I was falling away from the goal and as it continued to slip further from my sight I began to panic. I searched for something too vague to be confirmed, even if apprehended. A hopeless situation, to be certain, ever pressing on into an abyss which had swallowed up infinite presents in order to feed them to similarly spent futures. The keys at the slender waist of Fate seemed to taunt me, their piercing jangling reverberated in my ear even at her subtlest movement. A huddled group of teenagers giggled to one another over a joke that they didn’t think I understood. There was also a discussion sparked by the morning news, which everyone heard weather they liked to or not. I had guessed it would wind up this way if I would choose to come along. I suppose I must have come with the hope that I was wrong, but unfortunately, I wasn’t. The place I found most comfortable was locked in a closet in the upstairs hallway, past which everyone had to walk on their way to the bathroom. I didn’t imagine that I would feel this way in here, or that it would be so easy to get lost. Out there was no mystery and anything I extroverted seemed some trifle, perhaps resulting from excess boredom. The band started to play “Is it any wonder he’s got too much time on his hands?” At that point I began to recognize potentially homicidal tendencies within myself. Where did they come from? “We are all, I imagine, products of a constant battle with our inadequacies and the inequities of the world.” “Yes, indeed; we are the crusaders for truth and justice; and we dress warm.” Today we are going to start a new leaf, he and I. We are going to listen to better radio signals and feel our emotions more honestly. We will follow our first impressions but we will not fall in love with them. Also we will try to not feel as though we are spitting on everyone all the time. What do I mean by that? I mean that we will not resist the situation unless we truly feel we must. If a situation presents itself while we are on our way to something else, we will be sure to put our plans in our front pockets where they can call themselves to mind if necessary. Sirens everywhere. The knowledge of its endlessness would often draw him in only to be jarred so that his mind went numb on one side like a boxer’s jaw gone too long unprotected. This would make him quite pleasant company, even to himself, and at such times he commonly resorted to thoughts of pleasure and scraped knees, ribbons on his sister’s bicycle when she rode it to block parties around the neighborhood, memories overlooking a forest or the lapping of water on shore. Thoughts of the past were comforting to him because they were fixed. When thinking of the future he could not help but recognize that it is not fixed, that it is still to come and that what is not yet can be sketched only vaguely, and the more detailed the sketch, the more prone to error. “There are those sciences of symbols that work magic,” he thought. “The days are named already, and tomorrow the sun will rise, and this is not untrue.” And so it was that it would be called Tuesday by most everyone he knew, just as it would be again in seven days, but the label was all that was fixed about it; that and the weather, or was it? Perhaps it would not be so dry as they’d all expected. There was good cause for belief in that. The sky would be visible at the respective times that it was viewed, and boys would play outside and the warden would arrive at the prison cells with little boxes of plastic-wrapped nourishment. Now that he thought of it, the future was planned out to the minutest detail and this he feared much more than the thought that it held some potentially fearful unknown. It was a deflating prospect indeed to think that there might be no unknowns of any consequence left to be decided by free people living in moment and circumstance. In fact, pondering this possibility, he felt his exhilaration with life turn to dread, and now he realized, that it was chaos that fueled his will to survive. In the view of timetables, maps, and schedules, endlessness meant the ability of a system to sustain itself forever; a sentence to life in prison for generations, and he declared war on this state of affairs. It seemed as though he had done so many times over in the far distant past, as though he were reaffirming his opposition. At the same time, he had an inkling that he already knew it to be all in vain, as if he had tested this enough to prove it ineffective. Nevertheless, he was bound to try to make the events of the next day as unexpected as possible.
This mindset lasted for weeks, months and he felt it succeeding, but the days after he’d thought he had followed through with his plans he would look back at the immediate past and it would be finished, unchanged, at all events the same as it would have been if he had not undertaken to change it. He felt he must identify the source of the error in his ways, although he was beginning to identify with what he’d trained himself to recognize as “errors.” This worried others more than it did him, and so he kept a side of himself carefully guarded, no matter how much they wondered, “for their own good,” he thought to himself and then laughed. They could certainly pry, and forcefully too. Wasn’t it enough for him merely to reassure them that he was not going to harm himself or anyone else? Was his assurance even good anymore?
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Like a worldwide orgy but without all the stops to change position, nobody surprised by anything any longer, they’d all seen it all already and now it needed an end. “I actually only translate the parts that I find interesting into my own words”
Now they were together, preparing canvases for slaughter. They looked to one another shrugging their shoulders. Should they take it upon themselves to put an end on it? Perhaps one was already set in motion and all that was left to them to do was to kill the time between then and now, but this could not be the case for certain, as it would never do if it were, for they preferred their ends to be of their own doings, and even though they had no way to ensure this result, they knew it was their duty at least to aim for it in earnest. Nevertheless, answers to all the great questions still wanting, and the air ripe with bits and pieces for the picking, they sometimes would sit as if they were not alive and busy their minds with pointing out the fallacy of their inaction, working to the same effect as wheels spinning in the mud. The mind [which they shared] became cluttered with confessions that led to one another and tempted the observer to open them and spill out their contents. Sometimes, the sight of them was so embarrassing that they would wish to run in terror or disgust along a route that was likely to lead past yet another case, an encounter with which was likely to produce the same result and the placement of which made it tricky to avoid. Eventually they would grow tired with idly beating themselves for their unexcused idleness, and then they would lay in wait for sleep. This pursuit of exacting retribution for unsatisfying moments in the past had to be abandoned sooner or later for the sake of the entire future ahead of them, but many hours of many days were killed in this haphazard manner before they developed the ability to see what was happening. Every moment must be somehow different from the last in order for them to survive comfortably, but this state of being was not something that would just happen without their participation. They had to afflict themselves with a restlessness, which at its best moments would be quite out of their control, so that it took on a mind of its own, but unintentionally so. The uncertainty of what to do, the recognition that there would always be a vague something to do right now that would beg for definition and redefinition forever terrified them more than once, almost to the point of turning their attention back to the boxes of petty guilt . It was a good thing that they rarely reached this point at the same time, so that one was always there to rescue the other from it. Now and then, situations would literally frame themselves for them, and they could recognise this by mutually understood cues that sometimes seemed to have been set into place intentionally so that they could never seem to agree quite exactly about what they meant. If an end was on its way it would not come for a very long time. If this kept up for that long, they might not even notice it when it came, and what would happen then? A new beginning? The next revolution? The idea of this sort of double dip delighted the both of them. There were times when they even forgot what they were feeling for and fell into a state of pure and simple experience, when nothing seemed to exist but the present.
Mousetrap Breakfast Serial's Friend Space (Randomized)
Heya homeslice, we're gonna be sending a 3-song demo to small labels, and we REALLY need help deciding which of 3 of our 5 songs to send. Seriously, your input is wanted! XO Kurt
I shot the video of Sobou Shuu that you sent me a link to. Which is ironic, feedback of video of sound, feeding back. hey besides youtubne, there are more noise videos here http://s222.photobucket.com/albums/dd2/RandyCarter/ enjoy
