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signals home stranded, as well turn, turn, turn who? This is everything; right now. \\\\\\\\\\ \\\\\\\\\\
AphexMandelbrot's Fun Depot
"How's it going to end?"

if you're having girl problems,
i feel bad for you, son.
99 problems;
but a bitch ain't one.



but a bitch ain't one.

3 lonesome aliens - Signal mothership
i will tell you a story soon.
Signal mothership

If you are the type of person that likes Elliott Smith, may I make a suggestion?


Here’s a link.


You want to middle click that link. Proclick, man.


You haven’t heard this song. Probably. Maybe.

Never released. May be part of unfortold acres of unreleased material and demos.


Or it could be part of a handful. Who the hell knows.


I do know that this link has been scrubbed from the Interwebs at least once. The blog I got it from had it removed from their hosting, so did just about every other reference. So – maybe it’s part of something coming up. Who knows.



Anyhow. That’s a new Elliott Smith song.

Have a nice day.


Signal mothership

( this is part “what” of a “fuck you” part series. read it or don’t. i’m writing again so i guess i’ll write about this. this actually has an objective to it – so, hopefully it is somewhat more cohesive in contrast to what i normally write. maybe that will make you want to read it more. i don’t care anymore. )

Inside job.

We met the guy once, a well-known dentist in Nashville. He had pictures of Brooks and Dunn on his wall that were signed by members of the band that he had performed cosmetic work on. There were probably a lot of other country music icons in the pictures on the wall that I can not name, but to an outsider it was really just a collection of guys in cowboy hats and scribbly letters on an assortment of hanging guitars.


A series of x-rays were taken and he would get back to us on how we could address the issue of my teeth all falling out. He said that he would review the records and then we could come back for a proper consult with the correct information. I used to have a lot of teeth back then - and a lot of damage to address - so it took a little while.

We left Nashville and drove the 3.5 hour drive back home. With my headphones on, blasting a mix of god-awful angst and the indie music that later took its place, I figured that my problem could be fixed. I was 18 and two months out of high school. If we won the lawsuit, this doctor would fix my teeth. Pretty simple.

Sometimes -

Everybody woke up late the day we were supposed to drive to Nashville. The appointment was at 9am CST and we woke up around 9:00a EST. There was time to be late - but we would need to make haste. By the time I finished waking up and brushing my teeth, one plane had hit. Then another. We were still going to go until they called off air traffic. We figured that the appointment could be rescheduled.

There was really no way to know that the dentist would be called to New York. In addition to being the primary cosmetic dentist of Nashville, he was also apparently a big name in forensic dentistry. By the 12th he had been called and by the end of the week he was on a plane to look at teeth.

The lawsuit was close to falling through by the time he returned; without money to continue his interest in a consult was greatly diminished. Nor was he interested, if not doing the work to fix the problem, in being a professional witness to the lawsuit. It was worth a shot.

it breaks.

This leads me to the obvious conclusion that a September 11th of 2001 occurred in an effort by the dental practitioners of America to prevent me from fixing a problem that has now strangled the color from my life for almost 10 years. The explosives in the building? Packed with dental porcelain. I have charts that explain this all and a link to a YouTube video that will explain everything.

Eight years later, everything is worse.

Nobody can hear you.


=This Was Your Present=


Now that I have your attention -

See what you just read? That's a hook. Let me go back six months from there and tell you a story about how all of this began and perpetuated into something that is, as of writing this, consuming my life.

This is a story about an orthodontist. He operates in a small town with a population of 17,720. The last census (2000) of the town placed the average male income at $70,873; female at $34,955; family, $91,423. I make this point to transition into explaining how the event happened.

When I was in the fifth grade, braces were placed on my teeth to address a Class III under bite. My teeth were not really crooked, I just had kind of a strong jaw. Really strong. The braces were removed a few weeks before I turned 18. I still had an under bite.


In this time frame, the orthodontist was flooded with patients. His office was a four minute walk from the high school, middle school, and elementary school - so all of the families of the well-to-do school took their kids to him for orthodontic work. The demographics point out that there are an obscene number of wealthy trophy families in the area - hopefully.

The orthodontist overbooked all of these patients. He went on record saying that. "Slipped through the cracks" was the term that he used after. Mom then asked how somebody who was 6'11" could slip through the cracks.

He would roll back and forth, patient to patient, morning to evening. A team of young dental assistants would ebb and flow through his office like circulating water. They would check the teeth, write down the number of brackets and band strength separated as a fraction, ask what color I wanted the bands to be (black; like my soul, duh), and get the dental pliers ready.


The wheels would sound loudly on the floor as he made his way over. How are you doing? Any problems? Lemme check in there. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Looking pretty good in there. Click-click-click-click-click. Parents doing alright? Click-click. That's good. Click-click-click-click-click-click-click. How about band? Still doing that? Click-click. That's good. Alright, see you in three weeks.

For almost eight years. See you in three weeks. There was a consult here and there - but it was a pretty strong under bite. Springs, rubber bands, the works.

A lot of things can happen in eight years. A democratic presidency can carry out for eight years. That can also be a very acceptable amount of time for enamel covered by semi-permeable and porous temporary cement to decay. I can not say that I took exquisite care of my teeth, it was middle school through high school, but the level of care was within acceptable levels.

Time and perpetual stress are kind of like entropy in this sense. It will happen.


Three weeks before my 18th birthday, I bought a tooth whitening kit from QVC in expectation of my braces being removed the following week. I wanted nice white teeth - and this would be the icing on the cake. It had been eight years since I saw my teeth without metal.

The dental assistants that recognized me asked me what I wanted for my birthday when we arrived. Easy way to make friendly conversation and a very expected answer. Additional chime in from parent saying that this was my present. Chortles all around.

His assistants that did all of the prep work had two additional tasks. One was to remove the bands from the brackets and the other was to pull the brackets from the teeth when it was time for the braces to come off. Neither the assistant or I knew that the teeth were weakened under the cement. The next twenty minutes were a bonding experience.

I knew when the first bracket came off. She said to expect a pop. The first sound that resonated in my nasal cavity was a crack, followed by a louder crack. Then a snap. Nothing but pain. Very sharp pain.

Chunks of enamel came off with each bracket. A loud crack, sudden pain, and a snap that dropped my head back onto the electric reclining chair. After the fifth tooth, sweat rolled down my face. The assistant took her lab jacket off and looked disturbed.

Tears were coming out of my eyes when she finished with the top row. Every breath that I took sent cold air into my mouth that made everything hurt worse. There was another whole row left and she was assuring me that the rest would be faster. After the five minute wait that I demanded, she turned out to be correct. She removed those brackets much faster than the first row, tears streaming down her face and mixing with my own. Her face shifted back and forth between determination and shame with each grunt.

And then she chiseled off the cement. I pushed my nails into the faux leather for five minutes; hard enough to leave stuffing under my fingernails. Then it was over.

She called him by his first name. By this time he had moved to a much larger office to accommodate up to 42 patients at once. He looked up, and she said his first name again. "You need to come here, Matthew is finished."


His wheels didn't make a rolling noise under the carpet of the new office, just a low rumble and the sound of worn Nikes hitting the floor. He asked me to open my mouth and reluctantly complied, cold air filling the new volume of my mouth. The color in his face evaporated and he stuttered.

He congratulated me on making it through. The pain and chipped teeth? That should just require a tiny bit of dental bonding. Happens to a lot of people. Enjoy the time off from braces, but go and see him in two months for a retainer fitting.

We left the office and went directly to a dentist for post-braces cleaning. For an hour, nothing was wrong. All of the girls at the front desk that I had come to know over the years waved goodbye and cheered at my accomplishment.

smile; pull.

Four years later, delivering a letter begging the orthodontist for help, the same desk girls called the police to ensure I did not cause a scene.

Also, I never wound up with a retainer - so some good came out of this.


(I guess I’ll add to this tomorrow. It’s four in the morning. And I am drunk. And have written all of this under an increasing level of intoxication.)

1 lonesome alien - Signal mothership

“He just died. Let’s show him as a zombie.”


“Fuck yes.”


1 lonesome alien - Signal mothership

Bunn1  Uni2

I have too much free time I think.

1 lonesome alien - Signal mothership













I just passed another semester.

1 lonesome alien - Signal mothership

(middle click this)


(ok. let’s begin.)


It's always the same
Always ashamed 
The story telling When I can come into a hopeless troglodyte
But one more time my answer stands I swear I mean no offense
But you better learn to read
it's all 'bout membership
A tale for the young and old
Ugly girls and boys
I put you on my list
And make you clap to this
Mayhem , I just don't need that trip
And only one can win And soon you'll say “that’s him”. 
D V N O Four capital letters
Printed in gold
'Cause details make the girls sweat even more while they're shaking their belt
No need to ask my name to figure out how cool I am
Can anyone read, anyone feel
That I'm losing my patience
I just came here to bounce
Ladies all waxed
They all know I'm coming
I'm losing my patience
I just came here to bounce
when i listen to this justice remix, i want command a horde of youths and burn down your city. fyi.
Signal mothership

So the other day I’m up on the top floor of one of those swank high-rises on Michigan Ave., just looking at the view. I notice that on the very top of each of the buildings below me is a comparatively small American flag. But the wind as that point is so strong that the flags can’t wave. They’re being shredded by the wind. They’re fighting against themselves and then wrapping tightly around their poles.


There’s an apartment building across the street and as I look into it I notice a man sitting by his computer just looking out at the view too. But then he stands up and I notice that his hands are underneath his boxers and performing a motion that, even from far away, I’m able to recognize.


He performs the motion casually, lazily. Hypnotized by the buildings, by the cold October air or by the simple rote of this ancient motion, his hand pumps up, down, up, down, up while the sky sets behind him.


He starts to pull his pants up and tuck in his shirt when suddenly he notices me. There is a pause as his eyes catch mine. Another pause, and then he slowly unbuttons his pants again with a deliberate hand, slips his hand back under his boxers and performs the motion again.


I’m shocked, yet still staring. He leaves, but he comes right back and now he’s not wearing pants. I can’t make out his face at all, and I hope to God he can’t make out mine, but he’s really going at it now – he’s pressed up to the window and jacking off.


I am looking at him intently, but when I sort of back up and I see the entire building, with all the little boxes lit like some insane cage with flickering blue lights. Behind that cage is the shadow of other cages and the horizon is pink and melting into blue with creamy clouds and the sun is one big burning nipple in the sky… and within all of this, the two of us are locked into each other.


He starts motioning to me and then motioning to his cock – like I should start going at it too. I shake my head slightly and try to casually walk away, but I can’t because I’m entranced by this picture. He sees my reticence and now he really wants me to join him – he points at my hand and then at my crotch, while furiously pumping with his other hand, but I’m not about to. I turn on my heel to leave, but look over my shoulder one last time. And that’s when I see it.


The faint outline of a man, in a bright box 50 stories above a concrete street, jacking off. Above rooms and rooms of other men who probably couldn’t afford this view. Some businessman or doctor, who I’ve probably waited on, going at it. One manicured hand is pumping and the other is pressed against the window of his $500,000 studio. Alone, bringing himself to a climax and ordering some girl whose face he’s never seen to get off on it too, and I’m thinking…


“Man, that’s it. That’s it. That’s the 21st century American dream.” 

– Sabrina Chapadjiev

Signal mothership


Financial Rescue Nears GDP as Pledges Top $12.8 Trillion

March 31 (Bloomberg) -- The U.S. government and the Federal Reserve have spent, lent or committed $12.8 trillion, an amount that approaches the value of everything produced in the country last year, to stem the longest recession since the 1930s.

New pledges from the Fed, the Treasury Department and the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. include $1 trillion for the Public-Private Investment Program, designed to help investors buy distressed loans and other assets from U.S. banks. The money works out to $42,105 for every man, woman and child in the U.S. and 14 times the $899.8 billion of currency in circulation. The nation’s gross domestic product was $14.2 trillion in 2008.


Signal mothership