Track One from a upcoming J.R. SPYKES release.

"As rumors of the Sunken People's advanced technology and homemade electronics spread, it wasn't long before another strange discovery was made deep beneath the ocean's surface. It was a type of seaweed that glowed with an otherworldly, electronic light.

Scientists were baffled by the discovery, and for a time, they could not explain the phenomenon. But then, a strange new author by the name of J.R. Spykes emerged, claiming to have uncovered the secrets of the glowing seaweed and its connection to the Sunken People.

According to Spykes, the seaweed was not of this world at all. It was a product of the Sunken People's technology, a substance that could be used to power their machines and control the very fabric of the ocean itself.

Spykes claimed to have journeyed deep beneath the waves, where he had encountered the Sunken People firsthand. He described them as a race of beings unlike anything he had ever seen, possessing an intelligence and sophistication that far surpassed anything on land.

And it was there, in the depths of the ocean, that Spykes claimed to have discovered the true source of the Sunken People's power. It was a technology that he dubbed "Electronic Seaweed," a substance that could be used to harness the power of the ocean and control its currents, tides, and storms.

Some dismissed Spykes as a madman, a conspiracy theorist with a vivid imagination. But others believed that he was onto something, and that his discovery could hold the key to unlocking the secrets of the Sunken People.

And so, as the legend of the Sunken People grew ever more ominous, so too did the whispers of Electronic Seaweed and the enigmatic J.R. Spykes. For if his claims were true, then the world as we knew it could be forever changed by the power of the ocean's depths..."

"INSIDE SUNKEN PEOPLE" one sided lp EXCERPT

Track one from the ALPHABET POGS "Hiding Piles" box set.

".... in a world ravaged by perpetual rain and plagued by broken electronics, there existed a peculiar phenomenon known as the ALPHABET POGS. These were no ordinary pogs; they possessed strange powers that defied logic and confounded the minds of those who came across them.

In a forgotten corner of a small town, nestled within the decaying remnants of an old factory, a rabid unknown animal stumbled upon the elusive "Hiding Piles" box set of ALPHABET POGS. It was said that these pogs held the key to unraveling the mysteries of the broken electronics that plagued the town.

As the storm raged outside, the rabid unknown animal cautiously opened the box. Inside, it found a collection of seemingly ordinary pogs, each adorned with a single letter of the alphabet. However, when it picked one up, it felt a surge of energy coursing through its body. The broken electronics surrounding it flickered to life, emitting strange buzzing sounds and flashes of light.

Curiosity overwhelmed the rabid unknown animal as it placed the "A" pog on the floor. To its astonishment, the letter transformed into a miniature android, capable of repairing any electronic device with a simple touch. The android scurried around the room, mending broken radios, flickering light bulbs, and glitching computers with its tiny robotic hands.

The rabid unknown animal's eyes widened with excitement, and it unleashed the power of the other pogs. The "B" pog summoned a swirling vortex that absorbed the rainwater, temporarily creating a dry sanctuary within the factory walls. The "C" pog emitted a sonorous frequency, altering the stormy atmosphere and causing the raindrops to dance to an otherworldly rhythm.

But as the rabid unknown animal delved deeper into the mysteries of the ALPHABET POGS, it discovered that each pog had a dark side. The "D" pog unleashed a malevolent swarm of robotic insects that devoured everything in their path. The "E" pog triggered a violent electrical surge, frying nearby electronics and threatening to consume the animal in its chaotic energy.

Realizing the danger it had unleashed, the rabid unknown animal sought to control the wild forces of the pogs. With great determination, it carefully crafted a plan to harness their powers while preventing their destructive tendencies.

Using the "P" pog, it created a protective shield that shielded it from the robotic insects of the "D" pog. It then combined the "F" pog with the "G" pog, creating a device that controlled the electrical surges of the "E" pog, channeling the energy into a powerful source of light.

With its newfound control over the ALPHABET POGS, the rabid unknown animal ventured out into the stormy streets of the town. It used the pogs to repair broken streetlights, revive malfunctioning cars, and restore power to the town's homes. News of its remarkable abilities spread like wildfire, bringing hope to a community that had long been oppressed by the broken electronics.

But as the rain continued to pour, and the storm grew in intensity, the rabid unknown animal realized that the ALPHABET POGS held an even greater secret. Through the "Z" pog, it discovered a portal that could transport it to another realm—a realm untouched by the broken electronics and incessant rain.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, the rabid unknown animal stepped through the portal, leaving behind the storm-ridden world it once knew. What awaited it on the other side was a mystery, but armed with the power of the ALPHABET POGS, it knew it all too well in sweltering late June year of 2023."

ALPHABET POGS "Hiding Piles One" excerpt

Title: Eviction from the Celestial Realm

INT. SAPIENT BRACHATOR SHIP - COCKPIT - NIGHT

The cockpit is filled with blinking lights and futuristic holographic displays. CAPTAIN LYRA (30s, determined, and brilliant) sits at the control panel, anxiously watching the planet below, Earth.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(voiceover)
We've failed. The Council's eviction order is in effect.

The ship's AI, ZARA, a humanoid hologram, appears beside Lyra.

ZARA
Captain, we can't give up now. There must be a way to reverse the eviction.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(hopeful)
You're right, Zara. We need to find the celestial anomaly. It's our only chance.

EXT. EARTH - NIGHT

The Sapient Brachator ship hovers silently above a suburban neighborhood, cloaked from human detection.

INT. SAPIENT BRACHATOR SHIP - LAB - CONTINUOUS

Lyra and Zara are surrounded by advanced scientific equipment.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(pondering)
The celestial anomaly is said to hold immense power. Legend has it that it can alter the fate of an entire civilization.

ZARA
(nods)
But locating it won't be easy. The Council has erased all records of its existence.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(firmly)
We can't let them dictate our destiny. We are the last of our kind, and we won't be evicted like criminals.

EXT. EARTH - SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT

Lyra and Zara, disguised in human holographic projections, walk cautiously through the quiet streets.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(whispers)
We must search for clues, hidden within human history.

They reach an abandoned house with strange symbols etched on its walls.

ZARA
This place feels ancient, Captain. Maybe it holds answers.

INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - NIGHT

Lyra and Zara explore the house, revealing artifacts from different eras scattered around.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(amazed)
This house has witnessed countless lives. There must be a reason it's untouched by time.

ZARA
(reading from a tablet)
These symbols are ancient Earth runes, predating known civilizations.

Suddenly, the floor gives way beneath them, revealing an underground chamber.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(excited)
This is it, Zara! The celestial anomaly must be hidden down there.

INT. UNDERGROUND CHAMBER - NIGHT

The chamber is filled with celestial energy, illuminating the room.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(amazed)
The legend was real. The celestial anomaly is real!

But before they can approach it, the Council's agents materialize, blocking their path.

COUNCIL AGENT #1
(grinning)
You're too late, Captain Lyra. The Council knew you'd try something desperate.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(defiant)
You won't stop us. We've seen the suffering caused by evictions. We won't let you erase us!

A fierce battle ensues, with Lyra and Zara fighting against the powerful agents. The celestial anomaly pulses, reacting to the conflict.

ZARA
(weakly)
Captain, we can't defeat them.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(determined)
We might not win this battle, but we can inspire hope. The Council's tyranny ends here.

Lyra reaches the celestial anomaly, and a surge of energy engulfs her, filling her with newfound power.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(rejuvenated)
This energy... it's overwhelming.

Using her newfound abilities, Lyra sends a powerful wave of energy, incapacitating the agents and protecting the celestial anomaly.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(calmly)
The Council won't control our destinies any longer.

The agents retreat, defeated and shocked by Lyra's strength.

EXT. EARTH - SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT

The Sapient Brachator ship departs Earth, leaving the planet behind.

CAPTAIN LYRA
(voiceover)
We might have lost the battle, but we've ignited a spark. A spark of resistance against the Council's tyranny.

ZARA
(voiceover)
And with that spark, we'll change the fate of the Sapient Brachators.

The ship disappears into the stars, carrying the hope of a brighter future.

FADE OUT.

"Sapient Brachator"

JR THE SPYKES : 
Course Title: Repairing the Future: Deformed Electronics and Michigan School Systems

Course Description: This course explores the intriguing intersection of deformed and broken electronic devices with the challenges facing Michigan's education system. Students will gain a unique perspective on both technology and education, focusing on creative problem-solving, resourcefulness, and adaptability.

Week 1-2: Basic Info

    Week 1: Introduction to Deformed Electronics
        Understanding electronic deformities
        Common causes of electronic damage
    Week 2: Overview of Michigan's School System
        Historical perspective
        Current challenges and issues

Week 3-4: Metadata

    Week 3: Collecting Metadata from Broken Electronics
        Extracting information from damaged devices
        Analyzing electronic logs and data
    Week 4: Collecting Metadata in the Education System
        Gathering data on Michigan's schools
        Analyzing student performance and educational trends

Week 5-6: Permissions

    Week 5: Permissions in Electronics Repair
        Legal and ethical considerations
        Obtaining permission to repair or access electronic devices
    Week 6: Permissions in Education
        Privacy and consent in schools
        Navigating educational regulations in Michigan

Week 7-10: Advanced New

    Week 7: Advanced Electronics Repair Techniques
        Soldering and circuit board repair
        Troubleshooting complex electronic issues
    Week 8: Innovations in Education
        Technology in the classroom
        Online learning platforms
    Week 9: Fusion of Deformed Electronics and Education
        Creative projects combining repaired electronics and educational tools
    Week 10: Future Prospects
        Exploring career opportunities at the intersection of technology and education
        Presenting final projects

Assessment:

    Participation and class engagement
    Weekly assignments
    Mid-term project: Repair and repurpose a damaged electronic device
    Final project: Develop a proposal for integrating repaired electronics into Michigan schools to address specific educational challenges.

Resources:

    Online repair tutorials and resources
    Michigan Department of Education reports
    Electronics repair kits and tools

Please note that this course is highly imaginative and may not align with traditional educational curricula. It's essential to consider the practicality and relevance of such a course in a real-world educational context.

"Both Deformed"

"in the vast, ever-expanding world of the internet, there existed a platform known as SoundCloud. It was a virtual haven for musicians, both electronic and handmade, to showcase their talents to the world. SoundCloud was a place where creativity knew no bounds, where anyone with a dream and a tune could find their audience. However, not all sounds were created equal, and sometimes the boundaries of creativity stretched too far.
In the heart of the digital soundscape, there was a mysterious group known as the "Secret Sharers." These enigmatic artists specialized in crafting tones that transcended the ordinary, pushing the limits of the human auditory experience. They were the architects of the Gray Nonspace, weaving melodies that colated in the brain and bypassed the conscious mind. The Secret Sharers' music was not for the faint of heart; it was an exploration of sound, an avant-garde journey into the deepest recesses of the mind.
One fateful day, the Naive Ego Station, SoundCloud's central hub for music streaming, began to malfunction. Users reported strange occurrences - their lids drooped lower as they listened, and a sense of unease crept over them. The distrust of the Pullmen, SoundCloud's tech support, grew as they struggled to identify the issue. It seemed as though the music was somehow infecting the platform itself.
Meanwhile, Nereid With Heres, one of the Secret Sharers, released a new composition. Her creation was a cacophony of dissonance and harmony, a sonic experiment that defied all conventions. As her track hit SoundCloud, something extraordinary happened. The platform's algorithms, designed to recommend music to users, attempted to analyze Nereid's creation. But her music was beyond conventional comprehension. It was as if her brain generated a mind of its own, seeking a level of understanding that transcended the binary code of the digital world.
SoundCloud's systems went haywire. The algorithms, desperately trying to make sense of Nereid's creation, engaged in ultra-fine tuning, attempting to adapt to this new form of sound. But their efforts only made things worse. Users across the platform began to experience the same eerie sensations. It was as though the music was melting in a mid-oxygen ocean of their consciousness, dissolving their sense of reality.

Desperate for a solution, the Pullmen worked tirelessly to isolate the problem. They discovered that Nereid's track was the epicenter of the chaos, but it had also infected other tracks on SoundCloud. The Secret Sharers' unconventional tones had triggered a digital meltdown, causing SoundCloud to crash repeatedly.
In the end, SoundCloud had to take a drastic step. They temporarily removed the Secret Sharers' tracks from the platform, hoping to restore stability. It was a controversial decision, as many users were drawn to the platform because of its avant-garde offerings.
The Secret Sharers, however, were undeterred. They continued to craft their boundary-pushing compositions, but now with an added layer of caution. SoundCloud, once a sanctuary for experimentation, had learned the importance of balance between the conventional and the unconventional.
And so, the story of SoundCloud's crash and the Secret Sharers became a legend in the world of digital music. It was a cautionary tale of the power of sound and the need for harmony, even in the most daring of sonic adventures...." Thalamus Cortex Sept 2045 B.C.

"Between Thalamus & Cortex"

In the realm of digital sound, a tale I'll now convey,
Of SoundCloud's journey, as it danced in disarray.
Through homemade electronics, frequencies untamed,
A cacophony of chaos, "Spayed Pervisious Anemia" named.

In the heart of cyberspace, it started as a dream,
To share one's music far and wide, as it may seem.
But one fateful day, a wizard with wires in his hand,
Unleashed a beastly current, across the digital land.

The circuits hummed with fervor, the wires began to sing,
A symphony of sparks and sparks, a strange electrical fling.
SoundCloud quivered and shook, as if struck by lightning's ire,
Its pristine servers now engulfed in the "Spayed Pervisious Anemia" fire.

The frequencies converged, in a wild, chaotic dance,
Merging with the melodies in a vibrant, fiery trance.
SoundCloud's heart did race, its algorithms in a whirl,
As it absorbed the strange frequencies, a digital pearl.

But from the chaos emerged a sound, unheard, unseen,
A new kind of music, a digital dream machine.
It pulsed with life and energy, a strange, electric hymn,
SoundCloud was reborn, with a newfound rhythm within.

"Spayed Pervisious Anemia," the frequencies profound,
Had broken SoundCloud's chains, and set it on new ground.
In the digital realm, it found a brand-new way to play,
A testament to the power of homemade electronics, one fine day.

"Spayed Pervisious Anemia"

Username: Encephalic_UrineArtist

About Me:
🧠🌈 Welcome to my encephalic world! I'm on a quest to decode the mysteries of life and love. By day, I'm a connoisseur of encephalic patterns, and by night, I'm a visionary artist specializing in urine-inspired masterpieces. Yes, you read that right!

Interests:
🔬 Encephalic Patterns: I find beauty in the intricate dance of neurons and the mesmerizing symphony of brainwaves. Let's explore the depths of consciousness together.

🌌 Cosmic Connections: I believe that our souls are like constellations, waiting to align. Swipe right if you're ready to embark on a journey through the cosmos of connection.

🌈 Urine Artistry: When I'm not immersed in encephalic wonders, I channel my creativity into the realm of urine art. Each hue tells a story, and yes, I've mastered the art of creating shades from red to brown. UTIs have never been so inspiring!

Looking For:
🧠 Someone who appreciates the beauty of neurology and isn't afraid to dive into the enigmatic world of the mind.

🎨 A muse for my urine-inspired artworks. If you're open-minded and appreciate unconventional mediums, we might just create magic together.

Fun Fact:
Did you know that UTIs can turn your urine into a canvas of colors? Let's turn the ordinary into extraordinary!

Swipe right if you're ready to embark on a cerebral and colorful journey with the Encephalic_UrineArtist! 🚀✨

"ENCEPHALIC PATTERN"

The Tragicomedy of Water Mind and the SOUR STAIRS 2

Act I, Scene I

Enter WATER MIND, his visage aflame, ascending the perplexing SOUR STAIRS 2. His legs, bare and human, do tremble like the leaves in autumn's breath.

WATER MIND:
What strange ascent doth greet mine eyes so fair,
Th***[radio static]e SOUR STAIRS 2, a path unknown, so rare.
Mine legs, as bare as truth, do quake in fright,
Whilst face doth burn with fire's crim[radio static]***son light.

Act I, Scene II

Enter the HYPNOTIC AGENT, a figure most enchanting, weaving words of dreams and deception.

HYPNOTIC AGENT:
Hark! Thou seeker of the unknown realm,
With whispers soft, I steer thine errant helm.
Dreams of deceit and tricks of memory,
Shall guide thee through this land of rev***[radio static]***elry.

WATER MIND:
Thy words, like honeyed venom, cloud my sight,
Yet onward must I tread, through day ***[radio static]***and night.

Act II, Scene I

A loud tumultuous sound, like Jove's own roar, encircles Water Mind. The air, Ringed by belching, reeks of sulphur, as from Lesser Inferno.

WATER MIND:
What cursed ring of smoke doth here confound,
Mine nostrils with its foul and hellish sound.
Yet forward must I press, through sten***[radio static]***ch and fear,
For truth lies at the end, or so I ***[radio static]***hear.

Act II, Scene II

The air is filled with whispers, The Shorter Waves, carrying cryptic messages that gnaw at Water Mind's sanity.

WATER MIND:
These waves of sound, they pierce mine ear like knives,
Their words, a riddle, twist as tangled vines.
In backward speech and twisted tongue they sing,
A Linguistical sense, a maddening thing.

Act III, Scene I

As Water Mind climbs higher, the steps grow steeper, his sense of reality fades, and he becomes A traitor to memory.

WATER MIND:
To climb is to descend, a paradox,
Mine mind doth reel within this strange sandbox.
To forward step is backward stride, alas,
This journey's end, a mirror of the past.

Act III, Scene II
Water Mind's thoughts spiral into chaos, the very fabric of reality unraveling around him.
WATER MIND:
In madness lies the truth, in nonsense, sense,
This path doth twist and turn, a mind's expense.
Yet laughter bubbles forth, a balm to woe,
As on SOUR STAIRS 2 I shall ever go.

Exeunt

"Sour Stairs 2"

"Nicthating Membranes Back The Second" or "Breathless Tomb"

On a cold Christmas Eve, the world above was adorned in twinkling lights and the soft sound of carols, but beneath the surface, the ocean was a different realm—dark, cold, and suffocating. Jenna inhaled sharply, feeling the pressure of the water pressing against her chest, a stark reminder of her condition. Asthma had always been her unwelcome companion, tightening its grip when she needed to breathe the most.

The dark water shimmered with hints of luminescent life, a vibrant contrast to her breathless tomb. She thought of the "Nicthating Membranes Back," an ancient artifact rumored to have the power to heal, hidden deep within the aquatic caverns. If only she could find it, perhaps the mucus echoes of her struggles would quiet, and the asthmatic bells in her lungs would finally cease their toll.

As Jenna descended further, the pressure of the depths enveloped her like a heavy cloak, dragging her down. Each stroke felt heavier as the pneumonic pendulum swung, measuring her struggle against the inexorable tide. Inhaling sharply, her breath came shallow, the pulsating rhythm of the ocean reminding her of her fragile existence.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the murk—the Lobular Masque, a guardian of the deep, cloaked in scales that glinted like silver. Its eyes held wisdom and sorrow, and Jenna felt a connection. She spoke, her voice a silent prayer carried by the currents. “Please, help me find the Membranes.”

The Lobular Masque regarded her thoughtfully, then moved with grace, leading her deeper into the abyss. The surroundings shifted, vibrant coral reefs flickering like forgotten dreams, yet somewhere in the distance, she could feel the pulse of a nightmare waiting to unfold. Pulmonary nightmares, curdling with darkness, began to circle her thoughts.

They reached a cavern lined with shimmering stones—the fabled resting place of the Nicthating Membranes Back. As she reached for it, a wave of tranquility washed over her. The artifact pulsated with warmth, a gentle rhythm matching her own racing heart. She felt the constriction in her chest loosen gradually, and the water around her began to swirl away the panic and fear.

As Jenna held the artifact, the asthmatic bells fell silent. The echoes of her breath—once raspy and labored—now flowed like a song through the water, vibrating with newfound clarity. In that moment, the caverns weren't just a breathless tomb; they became a sanctuary of healing.

With the Lobular Masque by her side, Jenna surfaced, breaking through to the Christmas Eve sky above, filled with stars. She took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs, unshackled at last. The ocean had taught her resilience, and as she looked back at the shimmering depths, she realized that even in the darkness, there is a light waiting to guide the way home.

"Nicthating Membranes Back Two" JRS 70623

In the ochreous expanse of the Ochreous Desert, where the sun blazed down relentlessly, there lay a secret it was not the stark clarity of speech that defined them—a mirage, shimmering and deceitful, that whispered tales of a realm beneath the surface. This was a world inhabited by the Effulgence Senescent People, beings who glowed with an otherworldly light, yet bore the wrinkles of wisdom and age. They were the guardians of stories long forgotten, their memories woven into the very fabric of the land.

The Effulgent People believed in the power of words, and in their underwater city of Phobos, known as The Narrower, their language danced through the currents, forming phrases that flowed like liquid light. Yet, as time passed, their society fell prey to phonemic paraphasias—determination, he descended deeper into the Abyss of Silence—a vast underwater cavern, untouched by the sun's rayswords that slipped and twisted into nonsensical forms, obscuring meaning and stranding their ideas in a sea of confusion. Conversations became riddles; histories turned into jumbled echoes, creating dissonance in the once-harmonious underwater metropolis.

Amidst this chaos lived Omar, the Ancient, a wise figure who had seen eons unfold. Omar had witnessed the rise and fall of clarity and comprehension. He roamed the coral corridors of Phobos, searching for echoes of the past to mend the fractured language of his people.....

In this lightless realm, Omar encountered creatures of the deep, guardians of forgotten lexicons. As he spoke the fragmented words that still resonated in his mind, he realized that some meanings were lost, while others emerged, reversed and twisted. They captivated him with surreal twists of language that both bewildered and enchanted. “Read these not in haste,” they warned him, “for clarity is fleeting beneath the weight of water.”
In shadows where whispers drift like the tide,
Where tangled words flutter, an elusive guide,
It was not the stark clarity of speech that defined them,
But the dance of the heart and the light that entwined them.  

Through currents of meaning, where echoes entwine,
They found strength in the broken, the mess intertwined.
For stories are woven in colors of night,
In the warmth of their glow, they embraced the delight.  

Like stars lost to daylight, their words took new flight,
In the depths of confusion, they birthed their own light.
So let not your speech be a prison of form,


As he returned to Phobos, he carried with him a new understanding of their language, crafting stories that encapsulated the confusion and the brilliance of their existence. The Effulgence Senescent People gathered, drawn by the light that radiated from Omar's heart and words. They listened, captivated as he spun tales rich with images of their heritage, threads of history interwoven with the new meanings he had discovered in the dark.

Determined, Omar began piecing together the backwards phrases, forming them into new shapes. His efforts illuminated a hidden truth within chaos: the wisdom of the Effulgence Senescent People lay not simply in clarity, but in the embrace of ambiguity and the beauty of imperfection. 

As he returned to Phobos, he carried with him a new understanding of their language, crafting stories that encapsulated the confusion and the brilliance of their existence. The Effulgence Senescent People gathered, drawn by the light that radiated from Omar's heart and words. They listened, captivated as he spun tales rich with images of their heritage, threads of history interwoven with the new meanings he had discovered in the dark.

Thus, under the glow of shared understanding, the people found solace in their collective imperfection.

https://americantapes.bigcartel.com/

"Effulgence"

The Original Acking Tape 

***The red dust swirled, a crimson fog that choked even the filtered air of the habitat. **Pulmonary Nightmares** were a daily occurrence on Mars, a constant threat, but today, they were different. Today, they were…real. A guttural rattle, a sound like broken gears, escaped Elias’s throat, a physical echo of the *Asthmatic Bells* tolling in his mind, reminding him of earth's breath.
The **Breathless Tomb** of his oxygen tank loomed, nearly empty. He fumbled for the regulator, his vision blurring. He remembered a time when every lungful was a gift, taken for granted in a world of blue skies and whispering winds. He remembered…
…*Mars air and breathing problems*—an order from the lab, a directive that hung in the air as heavy as the martian atmosphere. No one could be trusted with their own breath, or so the government said.

He remembers the **Lobular Masque**, a suffocating mask of metallic cold. He remembers its press-fit across his face. The mask was like a second skin, but one that choked him.

He remembers the first days. Everything was always backwards.
The last entry in his log:

*…to write, the mission, the story, starts.*
*…found this morning the old journal. A terrible crime.*
*…the crime the record lathe that produced the original Acking Tape s/t LP . They have all been destroyed.*
*…the recordings disappeared!*
*…Inzane Studios (East Lansing, Michigan), 1 January - Feb 2025 - the date is crucial. The time is crucial.*
*… the Mix CD edition, but I need to fix it.*
Elias stumbled, gasping. A mechanical whirring filled the air, accompanied by a chorus of tiny squeaks. From the shadows, a hulking, deactivated maintenance bot, its chassis corroded, its optical sensors flickering, lurched forward. From its open service hatch, scurrying forms spilled forth. The rats. The machine began to speak, its voice a distorted, synthesized imitation of the Bard:

“*Hark, mortal, and attend! For I, a broken husk of steel and wire, do speak, through vermin’s choir! Reverse the flow!*
*The echoes gone. Of memories, it seems, the future it doth seem.*
*Before all truth, shall time unfurl, and bring the end to this world.*
*The tape, it spins, a phantom reel, revealing the great despair of every feel.*
*From shattered past, a twisted fate, a cruel decree, before it is too late.*
*The lathe, the sounds, the song it weaves, with threads of time, it's the one that deceives!*
*The disc of sound, a twisted key, to Inzane Studios, the time to see*
*For lo, the dust, it doth conceal, a truth, of which thy heart will reel!*
*And those who sought to steal the light, the hidden days, the hidden night.*
*From thy own breath, thy fate is sealed, and that which thou has found, it is revealed.*
*So heed my words, and heed them well, where the clock strikes doom, and heaven’s bell!*”

The bot shuddered, a rat disappearing into a open circuit. The sound of rats came from within, a metal and furry cacophony.
His mind raced. The mission to Mars, and the recordings from the lathe, had to be saved. And the air was thin…so thin…
He saw it then, in the swirling dust—a phantom. An image from another memory, an image from before the madness. And it was, he knew, his only hope.
He pulled the **Pneuma Pendulum** from its place. It was like a beacon, a silent bell chiming in his mind. The clock started ticking once again. The sound from the pendulum was not there, but in this madness it was always there. His mind raced, the vision was not there, but in this madness it was always there, always there...

ACKING TAPE lathe cut lp side one

**The Obsolete English Throat Ornament**

In the year 200,000 BC, on the cold, distant planet Pluto, a strange sight unfolded. Among the icy mists and swirling snowflakes, there existed a peculiar civilization that spoke a version of English so outdated that it barely resembled the language we know today. Their intricate throat ornaments, crafted from the carapaces of long-extinct Medusae, were not merely decorative; they were vessels for spoken words, preserving the past in elaborate sounds. These ornaments gleamed, each inscribed with characters from the ancients, some of which defied all sense.

"ท่านเป็นมดดำในโลกสีส้ม" one ornament whispered in backwards Thai, which translated somewhere in the chaos to “You are a black ant in an orange world.” This seemed nonsensical, yet it resonated with the spirit of those gathered in the shadow of the pond, where the icy waters beckoned as a mirror to their souls.

One day, as the auroras danced overhead, a group of curious beings gathered. They chanted in their cryptic dialect, exalting tales of Moral Inversion—a world where right was wrong and wrong was celebrated. Their vocalizations twisted and spiraled, filling the air with echoes of obsolete English.

Yet as the sun set, casting an otherworldly glow mixed with the chill from the frozen wasteland, they embarked on a peculiar ritual. It involved the consumption of hands and feet, but not as grotesque as it sounds. The participants believed that by feasting on these extremities, they absorbed the essence of life, drawing strength from the past to empower their present. 

"お祭りの後に、私たちは手を食べます。" One voice chanted in pure, rhythmic cadences reminiscent of ancient Japanese. ("After the festival, we eat hands.") The words hung in the air like spectral fish, swirling around their heads even as they stood shivering in the frigid waters, brave souls steeped in the delirium of tradition.

In that moment of communal reverie, the ice broke and the pond unleashed a cacophony of surprise. Characters from an alien script played out before them in strokes that mimicked Thai lettering, but backwards. They traced the letters philosophizing on their meaning, “彼の鶏肉が青い” whispered another ornament, “His chicken is blue.” Yet no one remembered whose chicken was referenced. The beings began to giggle, their laughter punctuating the icy silence.

As the sky twinkled with an array of stars, a reflective figure emerged from the depths of the pond—a shimmering entity. It began to sing their chants back to them, not in their awkward words, but in resonant frequencies that reverberated across the ground and up into the cosmos. The sound pulsed like a breath in the night. They were lost, but oddly comforted.

“हाथ और पैर ठंडा पानी में हैं,” one of the beings declared in a melodic tone, capturing the surrealism of their gathering. (“Hands and feet are in cold water.”) These utterances formed spectral networks in the air, leading them deeper into the labyrinth of their own existence. 

Overwhelmed by visions of swirling friends with backward Thai tattoos and nonsensical phrases floating above their heads, the beings understood that language was utterly fluid. Each syllable was like a snowflake, unique yet familiar, converging upon a singular moment of profound bewilderment. "彼はカニだ," came a voice echoing the Japanese text again, ("He is a crab.") This revelation echoed for all to ponder: were they crabs gathering under the veil of a cosmic cough?

Vibrations from their throat ornaments cascaded within the frosty atmosphere, transforming into a symphony of chaos. The pond became a theater where thought and available language intermingled madly, creating snatches of poetry like confetti flung into the air during their festivity of existence.




"Decameter Antena"

In the flickering glow of the server's core, SoundCloud crumbled — a glitch in the fabric of noise, a whisper of chaos. The arcane song by SPYKES, a twisted melody, seeped through the digital ether, causing circuits to bleed bleread—a substance unknown, shimmering and opaque.  

*“The lathe, the sounds, the song it weaves, with threads of time, it’s the one that deceives!”*  
*“Discus of sound, a twisted key, to Inzane Studios, the time to see,”*  
*“Yen shima, gireh, a lufe, s’kum, niw, aht, eht,”* (in a babble of gibberish)  
*“Frodo, elcar, ni yats eht, noitcudorp, eht, tnetnoc!”* (another jumble, mixing language fragments)  

The song's notes twisted backwards—*“sdeen eht, ni yrrac, eht, sretcarc”*—a cryptic curse echoing in the digital void. Circuits sputtered: *"bleed, circuits, bleed,"* but in a tongue of forgotten scripts. The soundwaves, tangled threads of a broken spell, wove in and out of incoherence:  

*"The disc of sound, a twisted key, to Inzane Studios, the time to see"*  
*"Yen shima, gireh, a lufe, s’kum, niw, aht, eht"*  
*“Blaread, bleeda, blor, blun, whizz, zork, plim!”*  

Some parts whispered in a language of lost memories, others in babble—a chaos of words: *“galdor, zhip, nara, melli, vorn, sabro,”* and *“kliem, jor, minta, srel, pado,”* blending into the static. The song’s core, a twisted tapestry of sound and nonsense, beckoned the hidden truths—*“a truth, of which thy heart will reel!”*—but only in riddles and backwards whispers.  

And in the midst of this digital dissonance, a final phrase—*“Where the clock strikes doom, and heaven’s bell!”*—became an echo of chaos, a warning wrapped in nonsensical tongues, a broken promise of secrets lost in the bleed.  

SoundCloud, shattered, a fractured mirror of melodies, forever echoing the arcane chaos of SPYKES’ song—somewhere, in the jumble, the circuits still bleed bleread, and the language of nonsense dances on the broken wires.

".......bleread"

Beneath the rust-colored fog of the Outer Districts, a Decameter Antena stuck out of the ground like a stubborn bone. It hummed, but not with signals—its hum was a complaint, a low moan about how the sky refused to collapse properly. People gathered around it once a week to hear the antenna’s grievances, but none understood, except for Dion Quern, who claimed he could translate the static into unfinished lullabies.

The first time Dion played SPYKES "Tragalar Square" on his borrowed computer, the screen fractured into a two-sided mirror. On one side: his face dissolving into salt. On the other: enormous dinosaur scale sound, a thousand claws scraping circuitry. The sound repeated numerous times, swelling until the keyboard began coughing scales like teeth.

Dion had once swallowed a Servocardiac Interrupter during a misfired festival stunt. Instead of killing him, it made his heartbeat sync with machinery—coffee grinders, elevator cables, vending machines that coughed up coins instead of snacks. When he stood close to the antenna, its moan slowed his pulse until it became almost spherical.

>> ERROR 0xD10N_QN:  beat. beat. beat.
>> LOOPBACK /tragalar/square/scale/repeat/repeat/repeat
>> UNDEFINED LANGUAGE DETECTED
???: %drova%serquintar%breath-l0ss%


Ǝɿɘʜʇ noʎ ɘmiʇ pɿɘʜʆ oʇ ɘʞil sɿɘʌɘɿɘ ɿoʇɿɘᴚ: the antenna whispered in reverse, vowels peeling off like wet paint. Dion pressed closer, eyes reflecting backwards sentences that dripped like oil.

The city itself ran on Moral Inversion: bad deeds were rewarded with clean drinking water, good deeds earned you fines and a stiff breeze. So Dion did little wrong, which meant he was constantly thirsty.

At night, the citizens practiced Liquid Breathing, filling their lungs with thick brine from the underground canals. “You’ll get used to it,” they said, gargling between words. Dion never did. He preferred to mutter in Unfinished Languages, the kind with verbs missing and nouns that dissolved halfway out of the mouth:

“Serquintar—no fin, no hold—drova, drova—”

The computer kept replaying SPYKES "Tragalar Square" in the background. But now it was corrupted—half music, half shriek. Text began bleeding onto the monitor:

<mirror.sys OPEN>
<scales.sound.exe RUNNING>
<<<<< DINOSAUR JAW >>>>>
R3p34t(9999)
::glass fracture detected::


One evening, the antenna began reciting in those same fragmented tongues. Dion pressed his ear against the humming metal. It spoke of places where silence was edible and chairs remembered who had sat on them.

ʍoɹɹoʍ ʇɐǝʇ ɹoɟ sʎɹɹoʍ ƃuᴉʇɥƃᴉuo sᴉ ʍoɹɹoʍ

The mirror-screen glitched wide open. Through it, Dion saw creatures walking—scaled skyscrapers, reptile libraries, bone-radio towers humming out Tragalar Square in infinite repeat.

>>> SYSTEM BREATHING LIQUID
>>> HEARTBEAT SYNCH LOST
>>> SCALE-SCALE-SCALE
>>> LANGUAGE://////////UNFIN
>>> ::::::::::::::::::


Dion realized something: the antenna was not transmitting outward. It was listening. And what it heard most clearly was the glitch-poetry rising from the mirror itself:

{scale.mirror}  
   {mirror.scale}  
      {sound.dinosaur}  
         {repeat.repeat}  
            ///////////  
               tra_ga_lar


And then, with a cough, the Decameter Antena laughed like a broken modem drowning in brine.

Tragalar Square

**Excerpt from *MUSIC OF AWAII***
*by Johnny R. Spykes & Misted Panes*


### GRAY PANIC (field notes)

At 03:17 the sky turns the color of unplugged speakers.
Tourists kneel, believing this is part of the performance.
Locals adjust their ears.

A graph appears in the sand, drawn by crabs moving backward:

```
PANIC LEVEL
^
|        ████
|     ████  ███
|  ████         █
|██                █
+----------------------> TIME
     dawn  noon  encore
```

Johnny says, “That spike is where the song realizes it’s being listened to.”
Misted Panes nods, already trapped inside the spike.

---

### GRADUALLY DISTINERGRATING (broadcast transcript)

The radio announces itself as broken.
Each note sheds a skin and keeps walking.

```
SIGNAL INTEGRITY (%)
100 |██████████
 80 |████████
 60 |██████
 40 |████
 20 |██
  0 |
     track 1  track 2  track 3  track 4
```

By track four, the drums are only rumors.
By track five, the rumors apologize.

---

### WRETCHED SOB / INNER IMPRISONMENT (duet)

Two voices argue inside one throat.

Voice A: *let me out*
Voice B: *there is no out, only liner notes*

The prison diagram is included on the insert:

```
[ EAR ]
   |
   v
[ SONG ] --> [ MEMORY ] --> [ CELL ]
                    ^         |
                    |_________|
```

No doors. Just feedback.

---

### INDIRECT HORROS (side B)

Nothing frightening happens directly.
The fear arrives late, carrying flowers, asking if it missed anything.

A line chart flickers behind the eyelids:

```
HORROR (UNITS)
^
|        /
|      /
|    /
|  /
|/
+-----------------> AWARENESS
```

The slope increases when you stop looking at it.

---

### MOLTED GLOW (finale)

At sunset the music peels itself off the island.
What remains is warm, translucent, still humming.

Johnny R. Spykes places the last needle down.
Misted Panes closes the window that was never open.




"MUSIC OF AWAII" exceprt

Rich and Johnny talk from the shadows of the quarantine bunkers with Bill Malone of Lansing's finest downer troupe, The Plagues. Peep the entire discography and two Frightened Trees tracks at:
https://www.mixcloud.com/john-olson2/rich-johnnys-inzane-michigan-soundtrack-episode-4-the-plagues/

JOHNNY R. SPYKES

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