I haven't had time to craft any new pictures lately, so I keep using these scans from my book of 300 Drawing Prompts for my entrys' obligatory images. (The last page appeared just a second ago.) The prompt for this present drawing—actually it was a double prompt—was "Alphabet soup" and "Rubber ducky in a bubble bath".
Dear diary,
When is it good to be messy, and when is it good to be neat? The answer is: Whenever you like it that way. Do whatever you want. The world is yours. If you feel like being messy, then be messy. And if you wanna be neat, then tidy up your room; tie your shoes; comb your hair; feed your goldfish; make a baloney sandwich; trim your poodle; and bob for apples. See if I care.
I myself prefer messiness. But I don’t like things to reach the point where they are unhygienic. I don’t wanna get sick from the beautiful mess. So be well-groomèd·ly disheveled. That’s, I think, what God would say; cuz if it makes sense to me, then the sentiment is likely a communication from our Maker. For undoubtedly we humans were made, we were crafted: assembled like pieces of furniture and sold to paying customers. Doug & Rita were the customers of MY model (they’re my parents). Boy o boy do I have a lasting resentment towards those two fools. (Why would you buy a messy boy and then scream at him to “Be neat!”)
What I was trying to get at, before I peed my pants recollecting my childhood, is that there’s a great controversy among the elite judges of culture whether it is better to be messy or clean. I remember (or perhaps mis-remember) my favorite movie director David Lynch relaying that, after being born and living in the U.S. till about college age, he traveled to Europe with a friend and planned to stay there for a while, but he ended up cancelling these plans & returning back to the States immediately; and the reason that he gave for his abrupt departure is:
“It was too clean over there. Everything was too clean.”
Now, upon first hearing this, I Bryan Ray, who was also born in the United States, thot to myself:
“Wait, how could someplace be too clean? And why would that make one leave that place? I mean, I’d understand if someone left a continent because the land was too dirty — like, say, there’s not a single pretty weed in sight, and the mountaintops are bereft of ice or moss; there’s just light dirt everywhere. But I enjoy cleanliness, even tho I just got done saying above how I side naturally with messy people; so this remark from my hero bugs me. I even remember back when I used to have an account on the social network Facebook, I knew a few people who lived in Europe and would post pictures of the environment and surroundings there (Europe is about the size of the Mall of Draconia), and I was impressed with the beautiful cleanliness of the landscape: I remember their subway system being shiny, and the floors looked slippery, as if they’d recently been mopped. The red paint was bright red — I’d even call it fire-engine red. And the yellows were gold. So it was just about as lovely as you could get a countryside to appear after recently bombing it. What’s not to like?”
Now the reason that the act of bombing came to mind is that I’ve heard about World War Two. That’s the World War that was born directly after World War One but preceding World War Three. So what happened in that War was apparently that many bombs were rolled around various locales in Europe, for whatever reason, and then eventually these bombs exploded, as bombs often do; and this was back in the days before the invention of the New Improved Bombs that smell nice and hug people; thus, when each explosion occurred, it was liable to damage the veneer of the nearby storefronts.
So my hunch is that this scuffed and tarnished veneer is what Lynch was hoping to see, during his pilgrimage, when he lived abroad for those few minutes. And since all the trim of the storefronts had been repaired and freshly painted…
This brings to mind that same speech that I talked about yesterday: the one that Steve Bannon gave at Oxford. [NOTE: by “Oxford”, I mean the city in southeast England, famous for its university; not the type of lace-up footwear with a low heel (“suede Oxfords are the essential shoes for autumn”) or the heavy yet soft and durable cloth made in basket weaves which is chiefly used for camisoles (“I felt excited when you tore off my Oxford in that love-scene”).] The reason Bannon’s performance came to mind is that the stage at the venue, at least my memory of it (perhaps my mis-memory of it), had a well-worn quality that I think my friend Mr. Lynch would appreciate. In fact, if you look at the face of Bannon when he’s hypnotizing you, you can arrive at the opinion, as I did, that he’s basically a slightly messier David Lynch. I mean the two men were born with the same exact facial features: the only detectable difference, now that so many years have passed since their respective birthdays, is that X became the windswept American design, and not-X remained the pristine European. But the weird thing (this, by the way, constitutes the only weird thing attributable to Lynch) is that the Europe-visage possesses U.S. ideas, whereas the U.S.-visage…
I stopped in mid-sentence because it bothers me to use the terms “America” and “the United States” interchangeably. They’re not true synonyms. They’re not like white rum and vodka. They’re more like a Shetland pony and a large canine. Say, an English mastiff. Or rather: an English mastiff that just ate a dolphin.
I helped my boss scrub his wall yesterday. The reason he wanted to scrub his wall is that it previously had suffered water-damage, and he plans to paint a water-resistant coating over the cinder blocks, but he felt that it was important to scrub the blocks first, so that the paint would stick to the surface (rather than flake away with the dust)...
OK this entry’s obviously dead. I’ll now share an old rap demo, cuz it’s been about a week since I uploaded something from my trove of audio failures:
EXIT
All I do, each time I decide to share a rap demo, is reach into the tote bag that I keep in my closet, and whatever cassette tape or compact disk that I happen to grab becomes the album for that day. And the album that I pulled out on the present occasion is so amateur that I felt the need to explain to you this lazy process of mine. My hope is that you’ll pity me for being such an obedient servant to Doom.
INTRO TO EXIT
The idea for the following shit-show was to present two tracks in tandem: one track would be my rap song itself, and the overlapping track would be a cheering audience which would react to my song “in real time” like a live recording; so, before & after each rap, the audience would cheer, and, between those ravings, I would rap the lyrics in my room real quietly, just to be incongruous.
But the problem with getting a track of people cheering is that I have no audience cuz I have no fans; so I had to do the background ravings myself (so they ended up sounding almost like heckling), on two uninspired “voice-over” tracks, plus my multi-track recorder had a broken motor, so every new track that I recorded would add a thin, annoying, electronic hum beneath everything. So that’s what that sound is; and that’s why those couple slightly distant voices are saying things like “Go MCB, we love you!” and “Wow your songs are good!”
Like I said, all the raps were performed alone in my room, as usual, so I had to be quiet, cuz I lived in an apartment at the time, without soundproofing, so that’s why I rap so soft and shyly.
Also, one last thing I just remembered: On this demo, I intentionally looped the beats an hairsbreadth off-beat, cuz it amused me to do so. So if you detect that, you’ve got good rhythm. So that’s where that came from. It was a stupid idea that I’m proud of.
MCB is the Soul Machine
by Bryan Ray
[scroll down or visit the album page for full lyrics]
1.
Untitled (Rapping on the mike hardcore)
Rapping on the mike hardcore
Never on the mike never am I a bore
When I’m on the mike with a flaming torch
With the same hot shorts I’m the same dork
And I’m back on the rhythm I give ’em a whippin’
I’m the MCB I’m as small as a kitten
But I’m totally mean big teeth and claws
Perpendicular cutting you with a circular saw
Rapping bashing thru the wall saying oh my gol
Better move out y’all or I’ll wail and howl
So I spin you around up over my head
Like a windmill does when it’s windy as heck
2.
Back to Stay
MCB now I’m back to stay
Rapping all awesome every which way
I’m dope holding the mike like a gangster
Always onstage with my tight black Wranglers
Ah yeah you know it baby
MCB you drive me crazy
With the super cool way you sing
I’m like a diamond ring bling bling
I like to rap hardcore and loud
I like to dive into the crowd
And do a stage dive and go crowd surfing
Look at the way my body’s curving
I look just like a sexy lady
Wearing my dress that drives you crazy
MCB is that him yes
He’s the one with the really sexy dress
3.
Always the Same
Rock hard MCB the Dane
No I never do change I’m always the same
I always have real cool raps to say
Like go ahead punk and make my day
I’m Bryan Eastwood shooting Fleetwood Mac
Right in the back with my gat
Did I mention my gat is enormous
I have fly ladies sing my chorus
I go fishing in my spaceman suit
Standing around with nothing to do
I rock hard like a KO punch
And I’m serving you half cooked day old lunch
I’m awesome totally rapping crazy
This is the reason my label pays me
I get paid big buckets of cash
Cuz I make smash hits when I rap
4.
Hard and Cool
MCB the disaster maniac
Causing explosions cuz I am a brainiac
I’m really rapping all hard and cool
I rap hard like a shooting shotgun
Selling my hotcakes selling like hot buns
I’m like the very best rapper ever
Cuz all my lines are super clever
We make the raps that are cool to hear
And if you object you’re a fool or queer
Or even something worse that I can’t say
I have a five pound manta ray
5.
Rock this Beat
When I rap on the stage like a manta ray
When I rock on the beat like a laser ray
I’m MCB the king of this rap
Better buckle your cap or lock down your hat
Cuz I walk down the block with a stride that’s wide
I don’t like to be beat that’s why I cried
Now I’m back cuz I’m a brainiac
With a chain on a bat swinging it around like that
I’m crazy I’m loopy
Totally spooky looking like a star in a movie
Like Lassie and my coat is trashy
I’m digging in the garbage and looking for ash heaps
Now I’m driving to the bank in my army tank
Cuz I kidnapped Hardware Hank
Rapping cooling on the block like a mannequin
Playing the mandolin and then vanishing
I’m like a gigantic rapping head
Coming out of a volcano dripping red
6.
Untitled (Big Bass Boy)
Big Bass Boy aka MCB
Big bass speakers that woof thee
I have big woofers woofing hard
And that’s why I stuck one in your yard
MCB the criminal
Eating a minimal amount of Benadryl
Scoping the fly ladies yeah the dames
Saying every rap that I say the same
MCB the dope rapper monkey lip smacker
Robot coon trapper funky spoon tapper
7.
Untitled (Yeah here I am I'm the man)
Yeah here I am I’m the man
The one with a dark tan so dark looking like a black man
MCB the weight watcher
Watching your weight for you am I a beta blocker
I don’t know what that is but I am that too
I’m shredding your raps like Big League Chew
Cuz I hate your raps they are dumb
My name’s Bryan I’m from the slum
I’m a dirty low down vagabond nomad
Letting my monad rape your monad
Saying good monad and come back here
Then I’m feeding my monad with cans of beer
Cuz I’m MCB and my hair is blond
Straddling a rocket with a baton
I’m the Cold War cheerleader rah rah
Putting my pompoms inside my bra
8.
Untitled (Good Rapping Boy)
Here I am the good rapping boy
Eating beef molds that look like soy
I have a name and my name’s Bryan
Don’t even touch me or I’ll start cryin’
I like to pick up giant rocks
And whip them across whole city blocks
Cuz I’m in touch with my feminine side
Making a snow cone with venom inside
I like to rap like really fresh
And hold the mike all close to my chest
And breathe into it and hiss and growl
And wipe myself all on your towel
Next thing you know this song is platinum
You hold ’em down Bry I’ll bat ’em
Now we’re beating this guy all up
Cuz we’re both cops and we’re both drunk
9.
Knock You Flat
MCB now I’ll knock you flat
My name is Bry and I have a hat
And on my hat it says Super Cool
I drink Blatz, he drinks O’Doul’s
Look at my car and how it rides
Only cool people fit inside
I rap hardcore and rock the house
While making house music with No Doubt
Cuz they need to venture out into house
Cuz all that ska is puking me out
MCB the rap Mack 10
And I’m yanking your backpack off your head
And I’m sifting thru all your backpack raps
And I’m stealing the good ones and leaving the bad
10.
Back Onstage
MCB now I’m back onstage
Watch me now while I turn the page
To the funky rap that I wrote for this
Come on and aim your scope to this
Don’t stop dancin’ keep on dancin’
I look like the short guy from Hanson
OK back to the hardcore rap
Yeah the good rap that trips the trap
I live-trap emcees in boxes
Setting their tails on fire like foxes
I like to go to the ocean blue
And use my coffin for a canoe
MCB the dope rapper sleazy beat maker
Greasy meat scraper
With a haircut that looks like a bowl cut
Eating my no-carb chicken donuts
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