S to the V to the P (question marx)

I recently purchased/need to embark on and TOTALLY LAY WASTE TO

this



























& this



























but I am a packrat with an insatiable thirst for the amassing of THINGS so buy me

this



























& this



maybe then I'll be...

























xoxo,
cass

this is better than cassidy's music

Arto: I have battery acid raging in my colon. How do I mitigate this conundrum?
SmarterChild: I don't know how to answer that.
Arto: What is my name?
SmarterChild: Jesus.

¡precaución!

annoying bandmate plugging his own music alert!



www.myspace.com/lecarnaval




xoxo,
cass

looks like one of us went to pitchfork.

Boris





























-mylEs

Revitalize The Song

Music will run forever. As does the river, which swims upon itself in an eternal backstroke, yes, Music will run forever. And no matter how concerned we are for its survival it does not need anyone. If no hand is left to the aged sheepskin of a drum, the songbird will remain. If the songbird's voice has lost itself somewhere, the deep warble of the sea will keep eternity's metronome. And when all disappears, and only the deep unflinching presence of space, endless and haunting, exists and dominates, the musical rests of silence will hang in every particle of nothing.
This was intended to be a reminder, yet when I reflect upon what I've seen, it seems this message has already manifested itself. As if torturing an animal that will never die, we continually torture music. This is no dissent toward any particular genre, or musician, but as a whole, music has been bed-ridden. There are sores along its legs. It can't get up to go to the bathroom so it stays stationary, playing the same tune, defecating upon itself over and over, weeping and clawing into the air. You can hear a frothy tremolo from the hallway.
If we were ever concerned, those concerns have transfigured themselves into a tolerance. Yes, a tolerance to bullshit. We've grown to accept many things. We accept the empty noise pollution of boxcars and automobiles. We accept a perpetual blast of war violence through our TV sets. We accept loneliness, and disappointment, illness, and loss. It is okay to accept certain facts of life, yet we cannot allow music to enter this chasm.
Its unending presence, its courage and determination should be celebrated! The endurance of Music should be laid upon a golden arch, which will be our sincerity, and creativity! Our souls should flow and be everywhere about Music, and cover it with their warmth. We gotta end the bullshit; we have to pour our blood into the vessels of our songs! Whether acoustic or electric, analog, or digital, by God, write yourself into your art! Beamers and ice will not keep you alive, and neither will mass public approval. It is ourselves and only ourselves we must write for, and no one else. Feel electric! Feel alive! Music will live forever, thus its agony will too, so an end to the pain must come, and it can only come from us: Music's eternal backstroke.

-Jamie

independent of what?

happy birthday.

-cassidy