Sharpnesses and Tremors

Sharpnesses And Tremors

Umrandungen, Vol. 1

Umrandungen-01-06 (Remastered 2025)

Obliodrivers by Aedos Cluster of the Waterfall

An Excited Tree

end of day

Listen to the book "The Year of Becoming Gracia" on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/Year-Becoming-Gracia-Necessary-Adventure/dp/B00O1ES4RW/ref=sr_1_1?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.hjF60yF0sUduswWfU1dtWCm8O5h2z17IywJy6cjPQYIlJnmh9uiO2K5RaoCY-4SN.yPLpXWGXr2uudcmDwY2kJF7PJRcEoS1rG18fCGvFV3M&dib_tag=se&keywords=the+year+of+becoming+gracia&qid=1753828983&sr=8-1


[verse 1]
She left Colorado with the wind at her side
Chasing a whisper across the great divide
Two daughters grown and walking their own trails
But in her heart, their laughter still prevails

She taught in the suburbs by the bay
Melbourne mornings, chalk dust and prayers each day
Teaching roots in a world far from home
Still wondering how far a soul must roam


[chorus]
And she’s still becoming Gracia
Through the healing and the ache
Crossing oceans for the questions
That the silence sometimes makes
In her journal and her heartbeat
There's a light she will not fake
She's still becoming Gracia
Every breath a chance to wake 

[verse 2]
On a Kibbutz where the Galilee sings
She found peace in the simplest things
University walls in old Haifa stone
Studied faith, but she still felt alone

She held the past in tender grace
Missed her father’s final face
In a veterans bed, far from her sky
Ventura wept while she said goodbye

[chorus]
And she’s still becoming Gracia
Through the loss and through the flame
Two daughters off on journeys
But they echo in her name
In the quiet of her longing
She has never passed the blame
She's still becoming Gracia
Never walking quite the same 

[bridge]
Now the road bends, not so wide
But wisdom walks close by her side
With Reiki hands and open eyes
She learns to live, she learns to rise

[chorus - final]
And she’s still becoming Gracia
Not a finish, just a start
Finding healing in the desert
And the shadows of her heart
With her daughters in the ether
And her father in the stars
She's still becoming Gracia
Just as she is, just who you are 

[outro]
Still becoming... Gracia…



Still becoming Gracia

Fur Coat Trauma

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

My inhibitions on the dance floor

Never Saw It Coming

Moonlit of Sky

Composed, performed, arranged, recorded, and produced by nNIMAa.

Mirage

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

"Straight art"

"Noise"

```Madlibs with a metronome```

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

Tom Petty and the Copyright Infringement Heartbreakers (8-11-25 hugging sand demo) (~feat Gesso)

blorgpulkfplorksickle