ＯＮＥ AＮＯＭＡＬＯＵＳ ＩＭＰＵＬＳＥ
realized by
JAMES QUENTIN DEVINE
m.v.d.
LOST EROS CA
BLUE HELL
MMXXV
ONE ANOMALOUS IMPULSE
When all you’ve got is a camera, everything looks like some hole to fuck or mine.
To mind your metrics is to grind a raw nerve.
What do you project?
Who do you serve?
Doth thou profess too much?
Too few thoughts?
Too many words?
What’s it all going towards?
What’s the use of you and yours?
What’s the worth of a world (in terms of oil)?
Sickening spirals and ill-got spoils.
Split infinity.
I sell profane.
And profane accessories.
I really don’t give a fuck if you couldn’t think less of me.
This is a mop.
This is a bucket.
This is shit.
This is piss.
This is low-lit and X-writ.
Degraded.
So why bother with it?
Snipers on the roof and the exits are covered.
Exif data of an exited lover.
Eject tape.
Control escape.
I never look at my subscribers’ list.
I know everyone goes away eventually.
Extinction come.
I know welcomes are worn some.
Warning waning.
Threads bare and soles holy.
Left wanting.
Instincts numb.
State change estranged.
I think therefore I am dumb.
The creaking collapse of a shot system.
This is a knowledge economy.
There’s know money in it.
DESCRIBE THIS FUNCTION
→
(fucked in fluctuation)
As a pure shape, ignoring the context of readership, it looks almost like a piecewise-constant staircase function with one anomalous impulse.
More specifically:
Long high plateau (roughly June → mid-November).
Abrupt discontinuity downward around November.
Second lower plateau (November → January).
Another abrupt discontinuity downward around January.
Long near-baseline plateau (January → late April).
Sudden recovery step upward around late April.
A very narrow positive spike immediately after recovery.
Return to the recovered plateau where it remains stable.
Mathematically it resembles a quantized signal with two negative step changes, followed by a delayed partial recovery and a transient impulse.
The graph is dominated by regime changes, not slopes.
The signal indicates that a stable state existed → [SOMETHING?] happened → a new stable state emerged → [SOMETHING?] happened again → the system partially recovered.
Whether variable [SOMETHING?] is consistent is unknown and perhaps unknowable.
The art output is thrust into ambiguity.
This sort of function plays out in a company after layoffs, a nation after sanction, a city after a disaster, or a population after migration.
It resembles a heartbeat where the heart decides not to beat for several months and then suddenly remembers it is alive.
█
→
Yeah, well, you can take your piecewise-constant staircase function and
SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS SIDEWAYS.
LIKE ALWAYS & FOREVER
I’ve been thinking about deleting fucking everything.
I’ve been thinking about calling it quits.
Again again again.
Tantrums and fits.
Childshit.
Hormonal boil.
Bloodroil.
Void rage.
You know for years now.
About ten of them.
I’ve had a song.
Heard a song in my head.
Slank guitar and tinkling shuffle.
Floor polish glint.
Could be ‘90s-60s, sixties-nineties, noughties revival.
Really it’s the Everlys.
Slick.
Goes:
You know I’d like to/Write a book
But who has the/Time?
For more/Than a set
Of/Forgettable rhymes
The readership has/Sunk
To unfathomable/Depths
So I’ll keep my crying/Short
Like/Jesus wept
Want to make/A film
But/Who has the funds?
Can’t make a stable/Home
So we/Fuck on the run
And I’ve tried I’ve recorded it of half-a-dozen times over the years but it’s never been any good fuck knows if anything I do is any good but this has just really never landed and perhaps because I hear it so very crystal clearly in my head and I simply lack the ability to reproduce like any other sad lagging animal in its straggling years held breath’s air struggling to care, seiza or shiva, cover up the mirrors . . .
FORBIDDEN COLORS
(𝑋𝐸𝑁𝑂𝐶𝐻𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐴 𝐸𝑋𝑇𝑅𝐸𝑀𝐴)
I spent the weekend dissociating.
Throwing myself at hard floors in an occult space.
Skin and bones.
Butoh.
Sweat lodge.
Retching death.
Her English was limited.
The teacher.
But whose isn’t?
So I tried to listen.
Despite my deficiencies.
Years of noise have clipped frequencies.
Sounds made loud.
Amplifier complicity.
My eardrum burst once.
In youth.
Sounded like the world ending.
And that was before I did myself in.
GIVE UP YOUR INQUIRIES WHICH ARE COMPLETELY USELESS
Is it the Ancestors,
or
Schizophrenia?
Is it the Speed of Information,
or
ADHD?
Is it Autism,
or
is Everyone Else Just Fucking Lying?
You’ll Never Find Your “Self,”
But You Might Die Trying . . .
▶
LISTEN to SCALED ALPS’ ‘LET THE ALPINE PLAY.’
Release show and merchandise forthcoming.
LISTEN to JQD’s ‘LIVE PLAYER DEAD SERIOUS.’
New tracks being added as we speak!