Rough's Egg

The beats - I got tired of messing with the same keys and finished this off after spending way too much time on it. I decided it would never be perfect. Known distortions in description, approximated.

All voices are my own, this time. I did nothing with these exhalations but record them. Women's voices in the past modulated from frequency, sine, hz and doppler needles.

Portholes Upon Wisdom

Once called -- Periscope Nine Feet Above the Bering Strait.
So, I scribbled some things here:

"Panicum virgata proctology?" joked Donne.

Dermatology "Joke": A laparoscopy of the innocent exhumes no psoriasis. The localized perspiration effect indicates this humor is dry as a bone. (An inside-outside joke [this statement makes it funnier, but not necessarily if you're about to go through a laparoscopic procedure])

In the interest of remaining committed to totally not caring about a woman showoff, since she's not mine and wears sexy outfits designed to tantalize those who can't have her, I have resurrected my advanced childish humor system. Her last name, at first glance, indicates a family lineage of low birth, and, what's more, some besotted knave of generations ago took pride in their permanently indentured status. The family paid-re-arc, Meihgus, earned the tripe stew on which they were accustomed to surviving by changing out the soil in the bottom of the stable hands' outhouse on lands belonging to a distant relative of Ludwig Van Beethoven-bun. He saved up 23 pence, just short of four sixpence, to change their lowly name from Van der Jaer after he learned from a member of the middle lower class, which the Jaer's aspired to reach, that the name meant "erotic manipulators of the female camel erogenous zones." Truly a dire and dry piece of news to come by. Meihgus purchased the new name, ASAP (it only took him two jaers to save up). He became Neighfuss Girthrod Beethoven-kun. In the interest of fair and balanced approach to this issue, his sons and further descendants for many generations prospered with that name, which they recycled through Sr., Jr., 1... and all the way to 7, three hands of fingers worth of times. To this day relatives and admirers of Meihgus vision for his fam's future whisper of his finer qualities, which so many scoffed at during the 16th century. To be brutally honest, however, the Van der Jaer's to which Neighfuss was related owned the true family crest behind the Rothschild banking empire, and had he not changed his name the Beethoven-bun's of today would rightfully own Antwerp, Belgium. (Humor, eh - originally part of politics, then self judged to be too bawdy for their liking. Title: Porn Names of the Dark Ages - No punch cards in this political joke: Politically correct way to say it is Beethoven-kun. Imagine. Merry Christmas, young men, I took a lot of heat to get a little sexual innuendo through 1000 pages of political writing. The only minorities who could not be unhappy with my syllabic manipulation methods are... I seem to have offended a few people. It was just to bring some humor and interest to the world of politics so a new generation could care about the issues. It's hard to suffer through a bunch of gay rights posts just to keep the spirit of the old democracy alive, to lurk as a leftist for the moment when we need ideological warfare: someone has to guard our right to see naked women and have guns while the Demoncrats™ damn everything Republican to hell. Now if I could just unregister from the Anarchy party...)


Cannibal Statement from Papua: "I've eaten both men and women. They taste the same." [From the National Geographic. Sounds funny to me.]


Each noble minded individual should treat each person with ultimate respect regardless of first impressions. The most beautiful of people may lurk beneath a rough exterior. Enlightenment sometimes comes to those who withhold judgment.

"If you thought that was bad, wait until you find out what this is." - From the This-That Epic

Perfect democracy quickens the wheels of justice until the clock hands stop and innocent equilibrium is restored. Experienced equilibrium perceives the material faults that make the wheels slow to a stop.

"Thou hath now been reactivated as a sacred hourglass" Unvoiced inside obstetrician joke. Voiced: "It's a girl!"

If one can't believe something, then one need only wait until it become mortal sin to doubt it and the truth of it will become self evident.

If one loses all ideals, having faith in one's self will suffice through the long darkness of solitude.

The seven deadly sins can be corresponded to vices. Gambling is the least and the greatest of them. It works in a world of pure democracy and does not exist in a world of spiritual innocence.

Photography joke: "The sacred lens bends at the iris level. Pupils need not apply for clothiers positions."

"Mastication can be known to be a celebration of denial's redness, and a zippered-crite has an edible complex." - Part of this said to have been uttered by Ambrose Bierce. The rest depends on the education of Agamemnon. Who can be known to have seen his face?

Perfect democracy quickens the wheels of justice until the clock hands stop and innocent equilibrium is restored. Experienced equilibrium perceives the material faults that make the wheels slow to a stop.

One doesn't have to care about the truth, but truth never stops being ashamed of a person if one doesn't.


One doesn't have to be ashamed of id, but sometimes it is shameful.


Never far from my heart.
Like dinged from the inside,
Motherly nurtured.
I feel the sadness,
And speak your warmth.


If you thought this was fun, wait until you find out what end is.


All magic is blasphemy unless most magic is unrealistic.


Cultural intellect may turn at will on a member of society and withhold benefit of the doubt in ideological matters, beyond jurisprudence, in order to question the integrity of a subject.

To reject rejectivism requires moving forward with poise, dignity and absolute positivity, to do so with relentless logic counters all obstacles to integral thought.



Wallpapers (from bears) - Bing - Altavista - Google - Alexa

The wall of sleep is protected by ancestral grief and pain. 4 times 4 generations guard the innocence of slumbering men. The youthful innocent need not worry about bad dreams. Interpretations mean more without the fantasy shattering application of scientific thought to the mind's slate cleaning process.


The Golden Gems of Life - a wonderful book passed down to me by my maternal ancestors.


I'm one of those people who truly believes in the immaculate conception. I can easily fathom that there is no conflict between concrete, scientific reality and that revered pregnancy. The wisdom was difficult to come by. Only age brings it. I'm gladdened by the miracle. The divine architecture of the Bible's written reference system is as complicated and simple as physics, and nothing there prepares a man for the beautiful revelation. The pain of life is so worth in light of being able to be a father, which is not light at all but is a burden I have been willing and would love to shoulder, if ever given the opportunity.


"Judge not lest ye be judged."
Those are the words of God.
Some ordinary people love to cast stones.
My house causes ricochets, sometimes
perpendicular ones.

Fiction From G. Washington

I want to be part of society so very, very badly. During my marriage in the 1990's I self indulged to the extreme. I did not care at all about my life. I spent everything I had on a good feeling, which was also the worst feeling of all time. The sickness of narcotics addiction took away my wife and my freedom. I cared about nobody else but my self, always. Though it has always been possible to fight off the grief and emptiness our overall society never took me back into its fold completely, because I never used my education to really try to get a job. I set off on a voyage of sheer madness determined that I could beat the world by never bowing down and doing the right thing. I already had a great gift, and I cast it aside out of pride and vainglory.

I have been made to witness my own oversight so that I be humbled. Nothing that I do is private. Every single flaw of my character, every single slip of physical hygiene, all of these things are made public after having the gall to antagonize society. The shame of failing in the local community arrives at utter revealment when there are no opportunities for advancement. Everything can, and is, taken away from a felon.

There is no end to the parody that has been made of me. All of the writing that I do, all of the music that I make, the very few pieces of visual art, these things are worthless. A lifetime of slithering around in snake skin fools no one, and the travesties mount up. The worst sort of winner does so without care for the truth.

I reached a point of utter expulsion from everyone, of clear mind and body awareness, today. Financial ruin from dishonesty and failure to pay heed to the great gifts given by God can be reversed. Lip service to the church will absolutely not save from damnation, and it will not make a difference being completely cut off from contact with women. Full prayer from the heart will save regardless of any social ties, regardless of any boundaries. Women wanting a man who is financially successful does not mean a flaw in character. A man who can not provide is revealed to be worthless and exposed.

The vow of poverty I took 23 years ago makes me somewhat immune to complete lack of opulence. I once and for all have kissed that horrid atrocity goodbye. Making up for all of the problems caused by the negativity will take a lifetime of work. Everything went wrong when I embraced my own ego over companionship. I chose self-pleasure over teamwork and instant gratification over slowly built rewards. There is no quick fix or quick release to one who has entrapped himself. There is only toil to the marrow.

I see myself very clearly. I am not unpleasing to the eye. I have only begun to see a way to live up to the expectations of the multitudes, the unseen eyes. I alone failed. Through careful attention to guidance I will eventually succeed in my second chance.

To thine own self be true.

[Can't we all agree just agree the man lost his teeth in "combat"? Do we have to go all the way back through colonial records to find out exactly what happened? He obviously could only tell the truth.]

The metatag here is "fiction"

Warm Song

This song is called Whoa Kin 2 Mucher Itty. I just performed and put the finishing touches on it last night. The guitar, bass riffs and lines, and synth track, are deamped to subharmonic levels. I'll release the originals on that *see bottom. In-the-room electric sound didn't go with the lyrics. Available for listening from the source right now. The archive also converts the file to all media player formats, at some indeterminate rate.

Text link:

If anybody happens upon a still functional Internet in a country with electricity in the distant future and reads this, and by some chance ever manages to hear this song, you should know that there is no way you can make fun of it first. I beat you to it. I eviscerated it, as per my usual routine. You can do your worst, but you'll be on a path I cleared for you.

On the instrumental and synthesizer mix- I mixed and rendered every track up the ladder to the lyrics. I did not play and sing as I did with Burnt Paper (which I never recorded, but will attempt again if destiny permits). I used a microphone pickup on the instrumentals, as my amp needs a new plug. Making it usable was a feat, and future music will have much better audio qualities. It's only 45 seconds long. I'll rebuild the synthesizer and guitar effects portion tonight. It's a lot denser than the naked ear can hear. The riff. Guitar effects. More background sound.


Melody flows in Antichambered. I ran through about 100 minutes of this with lyrics. I decided not to release any singing. Here's the song free of my poetry and vocal talent. I may sing for this in the future under a different title. Never have liked my voice, so there isn't one.

Flowers in the Sewer

This is the way we feel
But you do it better
You feel it better

Moving softly, your chest heaves
Your eyes are wetter
Warm tones are shelter

Some people know the way you feel
But no one says it, ever
No one says it, ever

Any who thought they brought the storm
Lost all knowing
When it started blowing

Growing slowly, time will heal
Everything deadened
Emotions deadened

Spirit fills up emptiness
And then you're better
And then you're better

Tears will dry, and smiles return
I hope no one has to learn
The way that I learned
The way that I burned
Don't find out ever
Don't find out ever

I hope no one has to learn
The hardest way to learn
By the whole world spurned

This is the way I feel
And nothing says it better
Than a kiss goodbye
It's oh so clever
It's oh so clever

This is the way we feel
But you do it better
You feel it better

This is the way I feel
And nothing says it better
And nothing says it better

[all set to C, G and E (sigh)]


Amelia Earhart Phoned Ugedei Late

"There is nothing in the Universe more alone than Man. He has entered into the strange world of history." - Loren Eiseley

Having just finished reading the Hugo and Nebula Award Winner by David Brin, Startide Rising, I can say that initially I completely misjudged the book. It was almost 30 hours after I finished it that I really got it. It was a lot of fun. I've spent so much time on serious subjects lately that the light hearted part of the work, which was the greater part of it, completely went over my head.

The literary dynamics of the work were still very educational. Science fiction has never seemed more like a tool for spreading a love of science than with this work. The benefits and enjoyment of scientific knowledge and theory needs just such a vector from time to time.


"There is nothing left for me. I will overcome this light sword or go down the greatest statesman." - Words of a dead great statesman who did not manage to overcome the power of firearms.

Two more months of living off of Department of Defense MRE's has proven just how good they are. Quite healthy. I wonder what the daily meals were like in Abbottabad.
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Symbols of Decay is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License..
Related written works at Angelfire, Sex Symbols, Cymbals of Silence.Repent or Die