hearing-impaired, insane, just retarded or.... riding two instances of metaphysical disfunction.. fucking resonator, and high pitched farts addiction.. fat blunt with toothless granny.. gremlins are feasting with hats.. bad trip.. or good one.. microtonic and macrogin.. some mellow ambient shit.. That will do. Do tell?
I am a huge fan, or was, of Metaphysical Function. I wish I had a vsti version of it like I did dog years ago...hint hint sniff sniff.....oh, no, no, no, no...this is definately and for sure not a request, I'm just sayin', you know what I mean?
One collective thank you - to all. Should I now, consider myself somehow sane, or not - is the question. Goddamned questions, without answers. Maybe, all of you are similarly mental. In desperate need for some chemical treatment. Legal, of course. What drugs? No drugs, legal or illegal, for quite some time. Maybe, that the issue. For unsolved, or unanswered questions. In some ancient times, any cappable of disturbing, naturally disturbed mind. What synths? Anything that my filthy little hands can grab and abuse. It's not about synth. It's about sound metamorphosis, in some, in any, fucked up way. Anything that can produce something (record anything.. pitch, gate, delay, reverb, resample and abuse again.. and again..) that sounds like "not belonging to this plane of existence". Most of the time. But reaktor was/is, somehow apparatus to go. For "sound/frequency therapy". W-o-wo, legal or illegal additives. Randomness in chaos? As chaos - perfectly ordered. Yeah, some dwelling about that question, wo answer of course - was echoing true the mind, for quite some time. Mike Daliot-s (I love you, wo knowing you) MF, was/is perfect candidate for (dysfunction) studying. Nothing is random - everything is random. Dissecting it and reassembling in many, probably not to be or do ways, as basis for trial and (happy) error, "self learned synthesis". I have many derivates of it, but not (at this place) at moment. And, of course, when I grab that hard disk, I can share 'great enthusiasm', by uploading, if anyones interested. First, vst version of it - if demention still serves me well - was some ancient native instruments, 'xmass gift' as non editable 'reaktor player instrument'? This is, editable one; of that (in vst packed) "first one". Here's another question. Maybe theme for some other tread or poll. Is anyone interested in participating in/on some collective "fucked up album" project? And one more, little question. My goolagle hands are not active at moment. Analog resonator? From possible 'owner' perspective? And yes, my heartfelt apologies. Don't be grammar nazi bitches. Here's just overly ignorant balkan boy, trying to assess (his) mental disturbance, or some theoretical, global or more general than personal - 'metaphysial disfunction'. Thanks, once again.
It's all good, the fellow who cuts my hair is a Balken boy too. He keeps me looking good and reminds me of the importance of "bratstvo i timski rad". I cannot promise a huge commitment to your conception of the coming"fucked up album project" but will hopefully be able to kick a little something in.
Interesting sounds. Your diagnosis says that you are totally fine and well but you are curious and imagining an invasion from another galaxy.
i'm going to bookmark these tracks and listen when i've got more time. so far this is very interesting and well-made. i haven't heard many sounds like these on the forum. never a dull moment in the 13 mins of your first track.. very engaging. i think we'd make good collaboration partners if you weren't quite beyond me, musically, and if i weren't soon to be disastrously busy.
Pretty sure the second track is made with Metaphysical Functions (or more likely) Fabrications. I love this device. Good experiments, keep going.
Your tongue (belongs to Satan) is like an accusatory giblet! Stop it - you're giving me fears! That kind of stolen line, would probably be used on some occasion, of my little - not pony - 'ocd' provocative probing. Strange. The same type of rather approval than critic, happened on some balkan forum, when i tried to slip ("some mellow ambient shit") jimmy, in some 'music as emotional awww blanket/comfort' topic. "The universe, the stars, godhead, neurons.. whatnot.." type of/as 'defining the feeling'. Nobody mentioned psychosis. On psychology sub forum. Fuck me sideways. People in general, in balkan, who probably as some gene fucked up cosmic play, suffer from serious deficit of imagination, are using words that are never in their sentences, about anything. On my 'audible provocation'. What's going on. Did I unknowingly slip myself some jimmy - and now im 'looking at' same people, but in some different, parallel universe - still 1/8d, almost full feedback, echoing. As a little kid and onward, some bizarre, unknowing origin imagination occupied/occupies my little pinkish-gray pony, mostly all the time. What would Nietzsche say about abyss. Imagine some socialistic (eastern germany would be more or less, on point) small country, existence, without (distant future) mobile phones of any kind, lcd, flat, plasma tv sets, quality hi-fi components and speakers, even the telephone connection was seriously high-priced commodity. Now with basis for surrounding, and idea what/how can anyone form mindset in that kind of bare enviroment, imagine little kid on sunny day, sitting on a bench in a park. Looking at or trough, other kids playing soccer, and on some brief moment, trying to grasp what are they doing. Why. After that brief wind of cognitive dissonance, he return to his more regular train of tought . Now, in imagination, he's grown up. Standing at some round narrow corridor, poking some buttons, dialing some potentiometers, and looking trough rounded glass. It looks like some, hi tech laboratory (to kid, in socialistic country wo telephone connection?) with all kinds of unknowing devices, monitors, oscilloscopes (to be, defined later.. in/as not imagination).… The whole room, behind glass is actually a sphere, surrounded by that 'lab' corridor, outside of it, around it, at higher level of sphere. Inside sphere is some man.. or women, as same, identical instance of 'insight' came numerous times - bare naked, standing in complete dark, in some type of jelly, nutriment, floatation capable 'liquid' of some kind. Sphere is two-sided mirror glass. Man or women, or subject, can't se nothing outside, while I, as some kind of 'operrator', can see inside, everything. Some kind of night-light technical magick. Besides, numerous hi-def cameras around sphere, can zoom 'subject' and display cristal clear live feed (facial expression, mouth moving, eyes blinking, crying, screaming.. all sort of interesting study material..) on monitors in lab hall. The 'thesis' must be some kind of external reality deprivation, senses deprivation, and probably most important, sound, frequency, oscillation.. the thick glass resonates.. besides 33 condensation waterproofed speakers mounted on 'sphere ceiling interior'. Kid is back in reality point of view, looking and hearing kids playing soccer. But why? Are they chasing round object filled with air? He raises up from bench, and goes in some unknown direction, probably following some internal ear vibrant interplay. That is, was, me. I'm shitting you, right? Well.. Now, when you possibly partying somewhere on adriatic sea, don't be naïve when some friendly creature offers you, and your friends, all included free of charge (just good will needed) after party, you'll never forget. Especially if he's having "operator" tattooed on his forearm. HR3 space night? Instant teleportation to some ancient times. Cancelled party and nothing to do and anywhere to be - already full of stuff. Friends empty apartment must suffice. Not banging night, but rather dropping acid, chilling night. And, for the first time, out of nowhere, listening 'space night' and watching 'space'. Melts into one big synesthesia chunk of.... No name or definition for that. Nightmares on wax. Super 'after', instead of party. Somehow, every nuance of the whole "presentation", cutted deeply, somewhere inside my little grayish pony. Fuck man (I love this 'mix'), Im ancient. Now I'm ("fuNck you wasgedn!") depressed. Must refocus promptly... Thanks guys (and galls.. ant gaylls, and..) for kind words and endorsement. Some promised sharing will be possible, when this momentary, fucked up, hectic situation stops kicking me in nutsack. Blunt force trauma style. When I get back in my dear man cave. Sooner, the better. Life is strange, you know? Paying (they're taking) monthly, 2 kinds of health care insurance, and 25% taxes on top of that. 25% (1/4?) on every fucking thing? Not going to doctor for nothing, even cold, for 20ish (paying) years or so. Now; when I need first check after 20ish years - first available appointment is 24.02. What year, right? Must be 2019? Soon. No. 2020. For first checkup. And then... I'm shitting you, right? Well.. It's all god. Be healthy, you freaks. Slainte! Last edited: Oct 31, 2018
