Michael Frechen interviewed on local radio.

Scholar Of The Year, Michael Frechen radio interview

My Mom teling me to hurry up and get aging cured.

My Mom Telling Me to Hurry Up and Cure Aging

Lyrics I wrote when I was living in my sister's laundry room at age 23.  It is about everything, but especially death.  I don't like death.  I like Nerds but they are bad for your teeth.

I do not mean to Gandhi you/ nor forcefeed any morsel in/ This wasted vessel rendezvous/ With nothingness and porcelain
No telling what it was before/ it came out on the other side/ Unless you have the means to bore/ impossibly the guts to ride
Of countless words that came as one/ fakir of iron filings/ of fusion in the thinking sun/ that cracked mosaic tilings
Of corpses that were comfortable/ concertos that were violin/ Of whores made unavailable/ by gluing penes up in them
In all the pharaohs' days of old/ in pyramids that broke like zits/ The tale it harrows to be told/ Of sucklings guillotining tits
And death is the divorce from words/ I wave my wandless hand goodbye/  My brain is just a box of Nerds/ Shook out into a ground-up sky

I didn't get Mycull's letter today yet again, and was sad.  But I got a new microphone and I think I'm going to give up on both science and on being the messiah and just make bad music like I'm never gonna die.



Thanksgiving water

I feel like an old black woman sometimes when I sing this.

Kemmishtree