CANAL X + ◉ ▶ ∅ ▲
𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚇
realized by
JAMES QUENTIN DEVINE
m.v.d.
A date upstood.
The insert sled.
The inert gas hood.
Ass understood.
Overhead.
Your whines align.
And your whenge would.
Crine.
Crinjun.
Criolio.
Crimal animal.
Adead and abutted by lack complices and lousen.
Lies.
(Go on.)
Leonid koan.
Meatier showers.
Slaughterhouse show-off.
Operating theaters and execution chambers.
Locked stalls and channel changers.
Set to X.
Desexed fierce.
No feast so bierce.
As a stabbed cactus’ desert tears.
And bitterness’ bang sour bash better beers.
Stout.
In barrel chests more echo Marrakech.
Malenko, Lysenko, it’s anyone’s guess.
God dolors and nonsense.
Nunscunt spun-up.
Emasculate conception.
Fanciful runt.
Razed rents.
Earthwalking adamant.
Atemporal exhobition.
Atrocity wife.
Diamonds suit you.
Sex positions.
Materia.
Acrotropaic magic.
Trembling deliria.
Diamonds divide the earth.
Diopter hypersearch.
Straightjackitid.
Seer sees cauldron.
Lidded kids.
Diamanda glass faceted.
Turned the table and scratched at it.
Like a cat-post.
The through-lines are few and barely float.
The ends are skimpy.
The middle filled with bloat.
Dishonored nominal.
Assigned numerals, serial.
A processed carcass.
Weigh it out imperial.
The unit’s voluminous.
Nails on a chokebore.
Humming of a whorehouse.
Pickpocket shortbread.
That’d be a real twist.
Hard in houndstooth.
Chubby got you all in checks.
Exploded plaid.
Busted madras.
Chiton.
Tzar bomba.
Mid-riffs.
Madrassas.
As man has it.
Kosmische raza.
The frame fails.
And the truth comes out.
The femme carnale.
Temptress and tout.
Sown doubt.
Abandoned mounts.
Prose feigned in huntress bounty.
Bountiful.
Buoyant.
Beautiful.
Brilliant.
Then there’s a 15 minute guitar solo.
And Mellotron trilling.
August up wind.
Wound-up.
Metronome counting down.
Round ‘em up.
Mastodon mammatus.
Keep it up.
Metropole rosy round.
Count me out.
Calamitous.
The plague’s aegis used to flatten towns.
And life.
Itself.
Or what remains.
Post-human retrograde pretext slaves.
What do you want to see?
What’s your fantasy?
Waxed moons?
Waning seas?
Early death?
Latency?
Melrose?
Complacency?
The felled rose of blue hell ink casting spells caustic kid kilobaud with the body that won’t quit and the he-he-header a never-forgetter, subject lines and public fines for literature better left litter, best lost altogether, West Coast wither, a stuck kitty in a tree, Mediterranean, an atrium furnished immodestly, Mussorgsky at the orgy with the ripped bodice queen, some shit schmaltz romance in a torn paperback, a backless dress, a waltz, a label, advance.
◉ ▶ ∅ ▲
OK SO FUCK IT LET’S CALL ANOTHER SHOT.
13 shots in the dark . . .
→ Right here. ←
More to come.
Expect rapid iteration.
Redesign.
Transformation.
(What else?)
The titles aren’t final.
The mixes mere suggestions.
If you put eye or ear to it?
Lash me with your lessons . . .
NOW:
You know about Scaled Alps.
If you’re here you know about Scaled Alps.
If you don’t?
Go know.
Go there.
Maybe you heard EGOTERRORISM?
If you’re here you mighta heard EGOTERRORISM.
It’s a 52-track, uh, rough compendium❓
All self-produced.
Here, have some old news:
ANYWAY —
If you’ve never heard any of this before?
Does the writing make sense yet?
This shit right here.
This new shit.
This shit’s all self-produced too.
Thinking it’s gonna be called
or hell maybe it’s
or
or
invoking and
inviting all manner of juvenile cusses!
Licky-pussy dicky-sucky!
When will you ever grow up!
(Never.)
Not for nothing.
This isn’t getting a roll-out.
It’s too tense.
Scaled Alps can take the royal route.
I’ma chum the gutter.
Come here motherfucker.
Alpine’s not fucking playing right now.
This is a shitty boombox.
You took a wrong turn.
▶
SCALED ALPS’ ‘Let the Alpine Play’ is out 5.22.26 . . .
Hear it now, early adopter:
↓
Go there.
→
ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ
→ bluehell.neocities.org ←
ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴳᴼ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ
🌐
