I suppose I should be honest about how this whole “Speed Creating” thing started.  Around November, my girlfriend of roughly 4 years and I broke up.  I’m not trying to turn this into one of the closing scenes of My So Called Life, I just want to be honest about my motivations as opposed to my usual  practice of remaining willfully ignorant of the things that make me do the things I do.

One of the chief concerns I was having as the relationship kind of fell apart was “what makes me happy?”.  A heavy set of circumstances had me feeling pretty terrible about myself and “Who I Am”.  I didn’t really have a good sense of how to make myself happy or how to express myself…I was lost and not only was it a weight on my relationship, it was obviously a huge weight on me.  When I racked my brain to find a way out of the bouts of deep depression I often found myself in, I didn’t have any answers, save for this weird hint that “What Makes Me Happy” is “Creating”.  My whole life I’ve been drawn to making things…doesn’t matter what, just making stuff.  In the moments where my head is down and ideas are flowing, I’m not thinking of anything else and I feel great.

So that is what I set myself up to do.  Chase down my tiny thread of creative DNA, wrestle it to the ground and stare at it to see if it really held what I needed.

Around the time of the breakup I saw what Dominic Wilcox had done, and it immediately clicked with me.  There was no doubt that I was going to follow the same regimented path, to turn my potential happiness into a homework assignment.  I picked January, because the winter out here kind of sucks the soul anyway, and it could double as kind of a New Years Resolution deal.

I’m happy to report that this thing has been extremely eye-opening.  You’ll have to forgive the cheesiness here, but I made a pretty big realization during this thing – that I am on this earth to create.  Apologies for the hyperbole, but as a weapon I’m only pulling it out here because I plan on using it.

Up until this point I struggled to find a box for what I love to do…am I a “writer”?  Am I a “photographer”?  I’m not very good at design, but I love doing it, so could I call myself a “designer”?  I’ve had a Flip Cam duct-taped to my hand for the last 3 years…does that make me a “videographer”?  What the hell AM I?  I always considered myself a writer, but only because I do that more than anything, and it gives me the most crisis-laden stressful high of anything I do.  But I’m not all that great at making a career out of it.

I’m straying.  My point is, I learned (in one of many moments of forehead-slappery) that I am not any of those things.  I’m just a guy who likes to “create”. “Creator”, I suppose, but that is too specific and a little weird.  So I’m more comfortable with “Guy Who Lives To Create”…funny…I just tried to type “Guy Who LIKES To Create” just now, but I slipped on the “k” and put a “v” instead….giving me “lives” instead of “likes”…ha…the K and the V are nowhere near each other on the keyboard.  Even I don’t know what I’m thinking.  Wow.

So, that being said, I LIVE to create I guess.  All of those things I listed above – writing, photography, video, music, design – flick the exact same switch.  The same light goes on and off no matter what triggers it – writing about zombies, making music with Ben, taking light painting photos, shooting in the snowy streets with my Holga, cutting and pasting like a madman in Photoshop, sketching, ironing on letters – all of that provides the same simple impulse that I’ve been chasing my whole life.

I’m not saying I found my life’s purpose.  That would be a little much.  I did find though, that I had been neglecting a massive part of what made Me “Me”, and I’m glad to be reconnected to it.

I also learned more about where my skills are.  I learned that I am pretty good at writing zombie stories, that I am able to edit videos that make me laugh, that I am not a very good musician but I love to make noise and record it, that I can almost execute an idea with a photograph, that I have a basic understanding of design and how to make something look halfway decent, and that when pressed (especially when pressed) I can create at the drop of a hat.

Like I’ve always said, none of the stuff I make has any illusions about being “good”, but that’s not the point.  It is all still an expression.  Good or bad, the switch gets flicked.

With the motivation behind this thing out in the open, I hope I can continue to do this stuff.  I want to just keep doing something every day because it really does make me happy.  Don’t worry though, I wont meticulously blog about it.  I’ll just do it because I love doing it.  I highly recommend it to everyone…whatever your talents are, use them every day, and then do some stuff you are less than talented at.

Day 1 – Optronics 4-1 with Oceans in Space  [VIDEO]

Day 2 – The Lightpainting Mini Booth

Day 3 – Allegedly Hilarious T-Shirt

Day 4 – Disposable Camera Photos

Day 5 – Photoshop Vs. Jandek

Day 6 – Photos From the MiniBooth

Day 7 – Desert Lightpaintings

Day 8 – Noise Tape Layout 1

Day 9 – Noise Tape Layout 2 + Download

Day 10 – Noise Tape Layout 3 (Black Metal?)

Day 11 – Optronics 4-2 With Oceans In Space  [VIDEO]

Day 12 – Fuckin “Art”, Brah

Day 13 – Movies That Bugged Me Out as a Kid – Body Parts

Day 14 – Brian Tumors Download

Day 15 – Zombie Fiction – “Cakewalk” Part 1

Day 16 – Recaptured:  L5D – “Advanced Ants Dance”

Day 17 – Lil B @ Highline Ballroom  [VIDEO]

Day 18 – Mirror Lightpainting

Day 19 – The Battle of the Red Dragon  [VIDEO]

Day 20 – Ke$ha Slowed by 800%

Day 21 – Anthony:  A Life (In Three Parts)  [VIDEO]

Day 22 – The Scum Noise Tape Full Download

Day 23 – Cocktail Napkin Zombie Story

Day 24 – Zombie Fiction – “Cakewalk” Part 2

Day 25 – Zombie Fiction – “Untitled” Part 5

Day 26 – Blizzard/Apocalypse Music

Day 27 – Canvas Drawing

Day 28 – Ghostbusters Firehouse Holga Photos

Day 29 – Allegedly Hilarious Lil B T-Shirt

Day 30 – More Holga Photos

Day 31 – Drew is an Art Dealer Now  [VIDEO]

“Recaptured” is a series of old content – music, recordings, writings, photos I’ve been coming across in random shoeboxes and plastic crates. (Hopefully) by digitizing/writing this stuff up I will keep it from being lost forever.

After that understated and amazing basement performance I wrote about a while back,  my good friend Colin jumped on a plane (or possibly a series of boats) to Norway, to go study music at a school he only called Monkey Island.  The way I understood it was that he would study at this strange place on an island with a bunch of other progressive and young musical freaks.  The school was not easy to get in to, so I also knew he must have been on to something, for them to let him through the door.

While there he had access to a fully equipped studio, a bunch of kids to collaborate with, teachers who helped refine his skills, and in his time there he created this beautiful little album called “Advanced Ants Dance” under the name L5D.  I’m not sure anyone else made anything similar to what he did, but I can say that the album is brilliant, and it should win some award for being an under-appreciated gem.

Its a strange collage of sampled beats, cut and paste melodies, analog warmth, and the first time I ever heard Colin sing.  A few names that I feel comfortable throwing around, for those who like to have something to compare to – Boards of Canada, Radiohead, Mum, even Nine Inch Nails.

Here it is, for you to download, complete with the layout that Joe designed back in 2003…he’ll probably kill me for posting it…sorry Joe, your shit is 10,000x better now.

Download L5D – Advanced Ants Dance

Also, if you like the album, leave some feedback here in the comments…we don’t have enough of that around here.

]]> http://namedropacid.com/2011/01/speed-creating-day-16-recaptured-l5d-advanced-ants-dance/feed/ 2 http://namedropacid.com/2011/01/speed-creating-day-9-noise-tape-layout-2-download/ http://namedropacid.com/2011/01/speed-creating-day-9-noise-tape-layout-2-download/#comments Mon, 10 Jan 2011 04:29:52 +0000 C______ http://namedropacid.com/?p=754

Tonight I went with another tape layout.  Initially, I thought all three tapes would have the same “graph paper” style layout, but once I got started on this one, I realized I wanted something totally different.  Its simple, and really, it was easy to make.  I mean…its Sunday.

This time though, I’ve included a download of a track I made somewhere around 2006…pretty much the last complete thing I’ve recorded on my own.  It will be on the tape for sure.  It was made with a desk fan, a casio keyboard, a DJX keyboard, a Roland SH, a microphone, some trucks passing my house in Eau Claire, and a shit ton of reverb.  Its called “Organ Amp” in the filename…dont know why.

Anyway, enjoy the track while I close my night out watching Aqua Teen and hopefully finishing Crank 2:  High Voltage.  Have you seen that shit?  Amazing.

Download:  Scum – Organ Amp

I don’t mean to set myself up as any kind of eulogist, but I wanted to write about something beautiful that happened recently in the wake of something awful.

A friend died recently, under very strange (and tragic) circumstances.  His name was Chris Thompson (In the Photo Above), but a lot of his friends knew him as “Little Man”.  Upon meeting him, the name made sense.  He was on the short side, built like a truck, hair constantly pulled back…I always picture him in a leather jacket, smoking cigarettes and listening intently whenever you’d speak.  The nickname was never meant as a dig to his size…in fact, only his friends called him that, and no one ever did it with any trace of malice.

He was one of the first people to not be shitty to me on my first day in high school.  He hung out in “The Cubby”, a weird little alcove in a hallway near the library where the metalhead kids would hang out.  Chris and I were never close, but he was always extremely nice to me, and I appreciated that.  The closest we got was one summer we talked for hours on the phone (because without a car, what the hell else were we supposed to do?) about how to beat Tomb Raider (because that game was EVIL)…and he talked me through a few rough patches.

As time went on, our crew in The Cubby grew to include the skater kids, the ravers, the hip hop heads, the hippies, the drunks, the auto body freaks…basically anyone who found themselves on the fringes of the backwards-ass high school culture.  And it was great…we never wanted for someone to talk to or hang out with.

Anyway, we all kind of drifted after high school, apart and all over the world, which I’m coming to learn is basically required for adulthood.  It gets harder and harder to remember where you came from and the distractions pile up until something happens to yank you out of your routine, making you stop and realize not just how far you’ve come, but how great everything was where you started.

In this case, it was the untimely and weird death of our friend Chris.  Now, I don’t want to go ahead and act like we were best friends.  There are people out there who knew him infinitely better than I did, and no doubt felt the sting more than me.  I don’t want to downplay their loss, I just want to point out something that I think we can all appreciate.

After his passing I started seeing people change.  Most of this took place on facebook (making this the ONLY profound thing I’ve ever seen on facebook) where the people who knew Chris kind of gathered to commiserate over their loss.  After the initial shock faded, pictures started popping up.  Everyone who knew Chris started posting these amazing, scanned-in pictures (usually photos with Chris or connected to him somehow) of all of us as 8th grade, 9th grade, 10th grade kids, decked out in insane clothing, covered in our favorite bands, communal over Slayer, Megadeth, and shit…Marilyn Manson.  Dark clothes, weird jeans, shitty homemade bongs, even shittier weed, skateboards, great music, cigarettes, and more cigarettes…our only concerns being where we could hang out after school and whether or not the “cool guy” who didn’t card for smokes was working at Oasis Market.  Seeing these pictures reminded me, and I hope a few other people of how awesome we all were back then (despite some of the fashion choices), and it made me conscious of the kid I was, wondering what that kid would think of me now.

Which is infinitely valuable.  As things get more complicated and you get older, the best move (which I now realize thanks to all of this madness) is to just start doing/listening/thinking about/talking about whatever it is you loved when you were 15.

So before I ramble more, here are the photos.  I think they are perfect (especially that one of Joe’s wall with MEGADETH written in duct tape).  A lot of them were taken by Joe, some by Shawn, and some by Bill.  If anyone objects to these being up, just let me know and I will remove them.

Thats Chris in the bottom two photos as well.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that this is great.  I know we would all prefer to have Chris still around, with these photos safely buried somewhere, but given the situation, we’re lucky that at least something special grew from something so awful.

Rest in peace sir.  Play a Sepultura record up there.

A while back I wrote a post about my friend L5D playing live in his parents basement.  To recap, L5D is my friend Colin Swenson.  I’ve known him my whole life, but even if I didn’t know him, I would still dig his music.  L5D is a moniker he made music as for a long time.  Now he goes as Omnii.  Think broken tapes, half-functioning equipment, sun drenched home movies, Boards of Canada, and microphones hanging from trees…that kind of thing.  Ever since I posted his old L5D music, we’ve been reconnecting on the music front, which has been amazing.  He recently sent me three old L5D albums, and they are all fucking great.

Before we go any further though, if you are in Minnesota, he’s playing a show as Dollar Store Keyboard (a brand new project) at The Rock in Maplewood on January 22nd at 9 pm.  Click here for more info.

(1) L5D – Neppodosia EP.

6 tracks, all great.  These are the songs he played live that night in his parents basement.  They are gloriously broken, sounding like J Dilla tracks that have been dubbed 400x on a boombox by someone’s little brother until the tape has broken down into a new world entirely.  He calls this his “favorite moment in L5D history”.

(2) L5D – Partehtpacse.

Read it backwards.  This first song is brilliant, I love how it builds on its own and then starts decomposing until only a shred of itself is left.  Thats my favorite part actually.  At the end of the track, through all the chaos and noise, you can hear snatches of the original samples.  Awesome.  Click here to download the entire album.

I also cut together a little “nothing” video to one of the tracks on the album.  Nothing huge, but I think it works on some weird level.

(3) L5D – Peace EP.

Higher production values on this one, making it “colder” than the more analog stuff, but also thicker, more complex.  According to Colin, it “goes well with percocet”.  And I agree.  Darker, druggier, crazier.  This track comes together around the 2 minute mark.  Makes me feel like running into traffic…in a good way?  Seriously.

After all of these releases, he went to an island in Norway to make his next (and final) album as L5D.  Stay tuned for that, and go to that show damn you.

So as I was digging through tapes, the same time I found the L5D tape, I found this gem…

Yes, you are hearing correctly. That’s a man puking his brains out to the lonely strains of Journey’s “When the Lights Go Down In the City”.

Somewhere in 2002…maybe…me, Ae, Jon, and Andy all took a trip up Northern Minnesota to “backpack”. It was the stupidest trip I have ever taken. We thought it would be cool to “backpack”…to carry our whole campsite on our back as we hiked through the foothills, camping along the way and hunter-gathering our meals. Well, we forgot one important thing…that we are idiots, and we had no idea how to backpack. So instead, we decided to go halfway to backpacking, we just reserved a campsite as deep in the woods and as far away from everything as we could possibly get…

Which was also stupid because that meant that we had to hump our entire, poorly-packed campsite down 2 miles of Horsefly-infested trail. Ae’s back looked like the roof of the Griswold’s station wagon…with random pots and pans clanging away on his back, bedrolls duct-taped to sleeping bags…

So we never left the campsite. A trip to anywhere but the bathroom meant you had to tie a towel around your head and carry a full can of high-DEET bug spray, to ward off the Horsefly hordes that would eat you alive. So we would wake up, eat food out of cans, drink ourselves into a coma (no beer, just Jack), make a fire, and fall asleep on the rocky ground. By the end of the second day, we had regressed to the status of upright primitives, whooping and fighting and stabbing trees with machetes. It also got pretty gay. Jon macheted his jeans up into short shorts.  Andy stripped and ran barefoot through the woods.  Ae chopped down a tree with his bare hands…while wearing a thong.   Always the one to take things wwaaaaayyyy too seriously, I stayed in the tent and pretended like all of this wasn’t hilarious.

So at the end of the day, after drinking nothing but Jack and acting like a caveman, Ae ended up puking his face off for hours outside the tent, while the radio (tuned to the only station that worked…”The Journey Station”) solemnly played on. We tried to stifle laughter from the tent, while occasionally poking our heads out to see if he was OK. I also recorded it. Because I am a good friend.

Ae pukes with his entire body. To this day I have never heard anyone throw up like that…you can literally hear it coming up from his toes…like he’s a fucking oil vein cracked open about to spout refunded Chef Boyardee all over the place. Awesome.

I also found these drawings from the trip. If we went missing or died, that tape (which also had Jon taking a shit), and these pieces of paper would be our only legacy. The last thing our crying parents could clutch to remember their beloved sons.

Pretty accurately describes what happened...

Ae won...apparently....

Things got poetic...

Not sure what's going on here. I think I'm the one with all the beers...

I'm a Gay Fag, apparently...

One more time for the people in the back…

EDIT:  Ae just informed me that it wasn’t Jack, it was Windsor Canadian.  That explains a lot actually, and it seems fitting because we were so close to the border that Ae probably puked on Canada.

“Recaptured” is a series of old content – music, recordings, writings, photos I’ve been coming across in random shoeboxes and plastic crates. (Hopefully) by digitizing/writing this stuff up I will keep it from being lost forever.

For a few months in 2004 I had really, really bad breath. It was bizarre, but seemingly out of nowhere i found myself with the worst breath ever. At random times during the day I would find my tongue coated, literally coated, in white. I would brush my teeth, use mouthwash constantly, and nothing would work.

I developed a bit of a complex about it, where my primary social outlet was a loud crowded bar, where everyone shouts into everyone’s faces…I was terrified to open my mouth, let alone blather directly into someone’s face about…whatever bullshit i usually talk about. Friends bought me a lot of gin and tonics and jager shots.

Anyway, it was bad. I would get sensitive about things like the episode of Sanford and Son where they visited the “breath mobile” (turns out it was about tuberculosis, not halitosis, but it would still make me squirm), and the line in Big L’s “Ebonics” where he said, “if you got the dragon you got bad breath”…that one especially hit home.

If it was bad during the day or at a bar, then it was doubly awful if I smoked weed. It was cotton mouth times however many bong hits I took. I suddenly felt this weird kinship with Yukmouth, the rapper from Luniz. If I smoked, nothing could penetrate the layer of gross white all across my tongue. I often spent panicky moments in the bathrooms of friends apartments, pillaging their medicine cabinets for mouthwash…mints…i would do the finger toothbrush, anything. And nothing worked.

One night in 2004, at my friend Jackson’s house, it was the worst its ever been, because I was close to the highest I’ve ever been. I was always high at Jackson’s, on account of the ridiculously furry Technicolor weed he always had around.

Jackson was (and still is) an extremely close friend of mine. I met him in 8th grade, science class, and we bonded over a shared love of metal. He of Ozzy and Zeppelin, and me of Sepultura and Fear Factory. We fought a lot in those early days. He was a major pain in the ass, an agitator, and someone like me who took himself way too seriously did not respond well to agitators. He was always pushing my buttons, and delighting in the maladjusted adolescent fireworks that would ensue.

We were still friends though, and we hung out a lot. Excavating metal CD’s from bargain bins in weird record stores, smoking shitty weed out of even shittier homemade bongs, inventing snacks to eat while high (like the legendary Strawberry Sandwich of ‘97) and watching Conan late night in his parents basement. He was, one thousand percent, my friend. No matter how much shit we gave each other.

Eventually, we grew up…well kind of. By the time we were 16 or so, Jackson had developed a pretty insane hallucinogen habit. Acid, mainly. I blame all the fucking Gong he was listening to. One night in the midst of an especially long LSD fugue, he borrowed his parents car to go for a drive (I don’t think he had a license) late at night on a school night.

The way he tells it, (and I’m probably butchering this) was that he made it home, fried out of his mind, to some very angry parents. All they said was “go to your room, and stay there.” He was excited, because this allowed him to just bug out alone the rest of the night and deal with the consequences in the morning. So he went into his room, put on some music, and did what people on acid do. He says he opened his eyes after a particularly wild introspective flight to see two strange men standing over him, who told him to pack some of his shit, they were leaving.

While his parents looked on, the men stuffed him into a van and took him to Idaho. We didn’t hear from him for two years.

He went to rich kid jail, a glorified military school where Montel Williams’ daughter was a “classmate”. He came back a completely different person. Well, no one really changes, all the essential elements were there. He still had that amazing and manic sense of humor, he was still essentially Jackson, but he was completely clean, and focused, and he was ripped…exactly like everyone who goes to prison. He got huge by lifting milk jugs full of sand, or whatever.

We reconnected instantly, and both being a little older and wiser, we stopped with the quarreling, and just hung out. He was awesome to hang out with, he eventually got his own place, and started learning audio production, which he was a fucking whiz at. Skip forward a few years, he had come into some money due to a smart investment by his parents on his behalf, and he was living in an apartment in Bloomington, MN, producing music and slanging the occasional bag of insane space-weed.

We all hung out there a lot. Whenever I was home from school I would spend at least one night there, getting insanely high and making music. One particular night it was me, Ben (who is a whole other amazing story altogether), and Jackson. We sat down to record some shit, and my bad breath-ness was at its absolute peak. The drink and the mass amounts of weed had my face flushed and puffy, bug eyed and bloodshot, with a shag carpet of grossness coating my mouth. I felt hideous. I will never forget it.

But what was I going to do? So I grabbed the synthesizer (hooked into one of Jackson’s amazing softsynths), tried not to breathe through my mouth, and set the synth to an ambient setting (because Ben was always convinced I couldn’t play lead… he was right), Ben grabbed Jackson’s bass, a homemade (5 string?) fretless that a friend left when he went to join a cult, we set up a few live drum loops, and Jackson got on the mic.

Ben is hands down, the greatest bass player I have ever heard. A lot of people say that about their friends but this is The Truth. He had been studying Chapman Stick, the 10 string behemoth favored by King Crimson and other professional prog-wanker-wizards, so given his enthusiasm for the Stick, it was almost impossible to get him to pick up the bass. But when he did, it was clear that he needed the stick as a next step, because he had mastered every inch of every bass, ever.

Jackson “rapped”. Somehow, he had developed one of the most bizarre freestyle..styles I have ever heard in my life. It was an absurd mix of Mystikal, Juvenile, senile black man and cruise-ship-lounge singer. He could rap, but instead of typical punchlines, he would just spin off on these mad vocal improvisations/solos. Sometimes they made sense, sometimes they didn’t. But just like most of his Southern Rap pedigree, it didn’t need to make sense to be awesome.

So we “jammed”. Jackson spit out some madness about crossing lines, Bebop, Rocksteady, Shredder, and parents hacking off limbs, Ben pulled out a bunch of amazingly hammy bass tricks that he would have normally refused to do (the finger funk at 2:54!, the harmonics at 2:44!), and I followed along, reacting to Jackson’s vocal patterns…thinking I was Thomas Dolby or Tangerine Dream or Bernie Worrell or some such madness (I think I really shine from 2:25-2:49).

Anyway, all this backstory was propulsion to the point of us sitting down and recording the track i embedded below…which is probably far less interesting than whatever i just typed above. The resulting track was dubbed “Cross the Line”, for obvious reasons. I recently found the original burn from Jackson’s house that night, so I digitized it and threw it up here. It probably only matters to me (actually I’m totally certain that it does), but “Cross the Line” is my favorite piece of audio I’ve ever been a part of, ever. Stank breath and all.

Soon after that, I discovered flossing. Who knew?

“Recaptured” is a series of old content – music, recordings, writings, photos I’ve been coming across in random shoeboxes and plastic crates. (Hopefully) by digitizing/writing this stuff up I will keep it from being lost forever.

In the summer of 2002, I was delivering pizzas…I think. Either that or I was just home from college, idle, waiting to start my sophomore year of college. Doesn’t matter. My friend Colin, who I have been friends with every day of my life, save for one (He was born one day after me, I think in the same hospital) is creative. I consider myself creative, but Colin is purely so. The creative part of his brain is larger than the rest. He’s about 90 percent creative ideas, and 10 percent other stuff. He’s amazing in the way that aggressively creative people are: odd, uncomfortably hilarious, and intimidatingly brilliant. We spent the better part of 6th grade making comedy recordings and selling the tapes in our respective classes. We made 50 bucks…which is about a billion dollars in kid money.

Anyway, in 2002 Colin had just started synthesizing his musical influences (shoeboxes full of old tapes, Boards of Canada, Autechre, old metal) into a project he named either L5d (see the play on letters there?) or Advanced Ants Dance, depending on the day you asked him. He’d pack himself into his parents garage/basement on Portland Avenue in Bloomington, Minnesota for hours with his sampler, an old busted floppy-disk sampling keyboard, his bass, and a collection of unspooled VHS tapes and cassettes with strange markings all over them, cutting…pasting…creating. The results sounded like Madlib filtered through Boards of Canada’s screened-in-porch.

One night in August…for some reason (a birthday?) he had some friends over to his parents house to “play” a little L5d “show” for everyone. It was me – in the early stages of my Palahniuk-reading academic paranoia, his friend Ariya – co-conspirator in their tapedeck-rap project Fumanji, Mark – another insanely brilliant madperson who at the time was studying Remote Viewing, and David – a small, absurdly nice kid they (and me, only once) used to call “Squeaky” in middle school, on account of his abnormally high pitched voice.

At the time I was gently fucking around with my own music, and I was attracted to “found sound”, so I brought my trusty Pressman tape recorder over to record the show. It was loose, but there were some snatches of real brilliance, all drenched in that unbelievably appealing tape-hiss sound that can only come from analog equipment and roughly chopped samples.

I came across that tape recently, and digitzed it to put up here. Because it needs to be heard. In the background if you hear a small laugh, that’s David. Who by that point had transcended the high school bullshit, and had a great crew of friends who loved him. He was doing well, working at Batteries Plus at the time (he was still wearing his work uniform that night I believe). About a year later, he was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. I mention this not to add cheap gravitas, but to give him the credit he deserved as a good person. He’s here on this tape, and was really important to the moment. Rest in Peace man.

So check these out, they are definitely worth a damn…If you click “share” you can download the mp3

L5d – 8-20-02 – 1

L5d – 8-20-02 – 2

L5d – 8-20-02 – 3

L5d now goes as Omnii. Check out Omnii’s music here and look out for his completed album soon.

Also, this is Mark’s Myspace. I’ve written about his comics/writings/photography here before, check him out. His stuff is like Adult Swim’s editing floor…the shit that was too crazy for the craziest minutes on a late Sunday night.