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Mïģh†ÿhøɾṡε

ACT I: Jabberwhorl grows progressively drunk, and the language reels... (the beginnings)

I was born and raised in Alabama on a farm way back up in the woods. I was so ragged folks used to call me Patches, papa used to tease me 'bout it but deep down inside he was hurtin' cause he done all he could. My papa was a great old man...I could see him with a shovel in his hand...see education he never had...he did wonders when the times got bad. The little money from the crops he raised barely paid the bills we made. Tho' life would kick him down to the ground when he tried to get up life would kick him back down...one day papa called me to his dying bed with his hands on ma shoulders and tears he said Patches, I'm depending on ya son to pull the family through...now son its all left up to you. Two days later papa passed away and I became a man so I told mama I was gonna quit school but she said that was daddy's strictest rule. So every mornin' before I when to school I fed the chickens and I chopped wood too...some times I felt that I just couldn't go on...I wanted to leave, just run away from home but I would remember what my daddy said...with his hand on ma shoulders and tears he said he said, Patches, I'm depending on ya son I've tried to do my best its up to you to do the rest. Then one day a strong rain came and washed all the crops away and at the age of thirteen I thought I was carrying the weight of the whole world on my shoulders and you know mama knew what I was going through cause every day I had to work the fields cause that's the only way we got our meals you see I was the oldest of the family and everybody was depending on me. Every night I heard my mama pray lord give him strength to make another day. Tho' the years have passed and all the kids have grown the angels took mama too. Lord knows people, I've shed some tears but my daddy's voice kept ringing through the my ears saying Patches, I'm depending on ya son to pull the family through, now son its all left up to you. Patches I tried to my best, its up to you to do the rest...

ACT II: La marge molle

"Je note: fantasme de clairvoyance démiurgique...Je note: tendance au sadisme. Le docteur Bestagenbergestadt devra se rendre à l’évidence."

ACT III: Ron & Fez noon to three xm202...face!

When mightyhorse rocks he rocks the fat ass. I was an old school graffiti artist myself. My specialty was the peace sign...just the word the who...a backwards swashtiker...I could draw the roadrunner...just the word the who...repent 13...just the word the who...yeah those types of things. I know a person wherever he goes he tags-"When mightyhorse rocks, he rocks the fat ass." When mighty horse rocks he rocks a fat ass. When monkeyhouse rocks he rocks the d-sippers. monkeyHOUSE!!! The higher you tag something the more respect you're gonna get. The more outlandish you tag, the more respect you're gonna get in the community. "Alright then here's what I want you to do...I want you to get a plane, and tag the sky..." cha'dabugre....

and that's me in a nutshell.

Fin

supplemental:

Odran Trummel

Good music...

La pop fragile sautillante et lumineuse d'Odran Trummel, jeune martien dont la soucoupe volante est tombée en panne du coté de Tours. Il est l'un des fleurons du label "Another Record"...label pionnier de la musique libre..