DJ Krush - Jingle Jangle (Mental Mix)

Off the quintessential mix album, "Code 4109."

DJ Krush - Jingle Jangle (Mental Mix) by prospectre

Brainspill on Aisle 5...

It's nauseating.  All I'm surrounded by, every day, is people using the same patterns and styles of social camoflauge with just enough irregularity to make each of them seem unique.  This beautiful flash-in-the-pan spontaneity--the supposed light of human existence, itself--is not all what it appears to be. 

It's consuming.  I'll be sitting with friends, even family, and my mind is suddenly awash with their separate little communicative signals, illuminated by each and every detail of their deliveries.  I'll notice the identity-stroking, or conversely, perhaps, the seeping doubt--either of which could be the catalysts behind a phrase as innocuous as: "Some day at work today," or "Getting back to the gym is good."  Whatever is said, there's a message involved which gets conveyed through code.  For some reason, in this society, grace is synonymous with a certain shade of dishonesty.  To actually tell someone: "Hey, work is killing me: my back is going to go out any second," you have to really fucking trust them. 

This rock-solid social barrier we call "trust" has forced us to create an "over-language," almost, like an island of speech which floats on top of the undulating truths below.  I have to commit much more energy into deciphering other peoples' bullshit; now that "trust" is a factor.  But what does it even mean, to trust someone?  Shouldn't we just say love? 

Because you can't really trust someone you hate, can you?  There has to be an element of love involved.  You don't share your hidden parts with people you don't like.  So all you're really doing with this code, this overspeech, is voicing your disrespect for whoever has to tolerate it from you...Disrespect on a sliding scale.  Maybe "disrespect" is the wrong word, but it is a certain lack of love, or distancing, that happens on a ramped up level from the people you've chosen to be in your life to the people you haven't.  This is why "phone voices" happen, or it's how you talk when you're in a cab.  Small talk.  Bullshitting.  But there's meaning to every last breath of it, because we just can't fucking help ourselves, and this is where I come in.

I want to cut everybody a break, I suppose, because it is by the light of music and even new experiences, themselves, that our fledgling capacity for language is exposed as ultimately fraudulent.  We're working with rusty tools, but they're the only ones in the shed.  That said, we can still use them together.  It's beautiful and intense to share.  To really, honestly open up about something you're thinking about with no reservations and no worries-- that's when the best ideas form. 

But perhaps it's too beautiful and too intense.  Maybe we can only mentally sustain a select few of these types of relationships.  Hence the code.  Hence the gnawingly constant spinning of the bullshit web.  We're not all created equal, we know it, and our system of trust defines the boundaries for expression.  Like slaves roped together on a staggeringly criss-crossed latticework of chains, yanking each other closer and farther away and here and there, everywhere.  It's all so ordinary and stilting.  I want to break free...

Slakah the Beatchild - Living For the Rush

I dunno about this guy's name...sounds a little forced (wtf is a beatchild?), but this is a nice little riff he gets on here.  Good for any time of day.

Slakah The Beatchild - Living For The Rush by prospectre

I'm Afraid, In Your Anger...You Killed Her...

It's hard not to want to cross over to the dark side when I start seeing all these assholes who win.  And win routinely.  Christopher Columbus: asshole/slaver/rapist and possessor of the ultimate win of discovering the New World.  Bill Gates: stole his machine concept from Steve Jobs and possessor of like $30 billion.  Cortes: burns villages out of spite and brings oodles of gold back to the motherland.  If you want your name to echo throughout eternity, you'll have to use a fiendish & cancerous mentality.  Destroy and move forward.  Upwards.  Harvest the requisite cattle and then dispose of them when the time is right.

Let's be real, right: nice guys do finish last.  And not only do they finish last, they finish derided, laughed at, and generally maimed by the blistering magma of aggression which dominates all of us, underneath all our posturing and protective measures.  Being nice means being obsequious, which can transitively signify weakness.  There's nothing strong about it.  The best thing being nice does is it makes one feel good about himself.  He is now free to enjoy his own company for a time both during and after his altruism.

The best praise comes from yourself, of course.  You are the best judge you will ever know.  Well.  The best and the worst.  Because this judge can and will often become overruled by whatever drastic and beautiful learning curve wrenches you to make a new framework for your decision-making.  All this turbulence is bound to take a toll on you.  The important thing to remember is this: we're all animals.  When dogs fight, the one who is bleeding the worst is the loser.  That behavior is universal.

Dibiase - Living My Life

This jam is word as hell! Can't get enough of the opening sequence snappin into the sample like that. I don't even know why I try to verbalize these things...it's ill, on that primal level.

Dibiase - Living My Life by prospectre

Eric Lau - The Garden

Infectious somehow and wonderfully so- like a virus that eats your brain and gives you the deepest sense of ecstasy for a stretch before you eventually grow bored of the ecstasy and fill the ever-existent void with some other clean shit.


Eric Lau - The Garden by prospectre