Recorded one summer's day in my dear friend's room
Music & vocal by Kelly Tsaltas
Programming & vocal by C. Jones

Lyrics taken from the poetry collection "Baleen" by Constantine Jones -

MARSHLAND

I was wading through the marshland
underneath the trees 
where you used to take me fishing for the smallest of thoughts.

It's been so long since I tasted that brown city breeze.
The birds in the treetops
they nearly forgot my name.
But I was there.
I was there, knee deep in green
& I was there
in a river off the shores of Abadar
thinking of you.

Remember that day you got lost on the train?
You wanted to see the old mountains
It was the year I wrote you that letter.

You said you wanted to feel the white caps
with your fingers,
always buckling green boots or leather coats.

You were the vision of denim in October alleys
an ever-brewing pot of tea
You were the incense in between my eyelids 
when the sun became too bright to bear.
I found your old ticket yesterday
still there behind my left ear
like I promised
& without trying too hard, I shut my eyes.
I shut my eyes,
& inside them I found yours, too.

"Let's build a city of water,"
you'd whisper, never one for concrete.

Let's imagine: ice filled towers
white with the light of a blue sun in a gray sky.

"Come on down to the marsh,"
you'd beg me.

Come on down to the sea,
I'd say.

You wanted thoughts
but I wanted to think
& I'd still choose water over plants any day.

Don't you know that the marsh will flood?
Don't you know that the trees will swell?

“I'm not scared.
Anything's better than a dried up well.”


Marshland (w/  Kelly Tsaltas)

Good friend Walter & I making roomfuzz basement sounds

Atmosphere: Subterranean Improvisation (w/ Walter)

Snowed in so I just recorded some poetry + pc sounds

C. Room

Slip into the C. Room, this what I become
scales of story, bones of noise
I raise my walls for one
The world got too many names just for me
so I answer them selectively, like deity
shuffling bones & typewriter stones
are my words collecting me or am I really so alone
drifting up above the cities
& the villages
& trees
I can only see me when I'm not called upon to be
anything
This bliss is just vibration & sensation
I exist
as a Jones w/in my home
of little stories I have thrown
into the ripples of the lake inside my mind 
where the fishes roam
This is all I got - C. Room
just an attitude
as me for my name & I will see what I can fit into
tell me "hey white boy, whatcha doin uptown?"
well I'm just waitin for my man, but maybe we can get down

C. Room (snowed-in experiment)

Eventual receptacle for spoken-word ambient noise art bits by thingmaker c. jones

Twitter: @anyonesjones

stories & noise