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Traffic Sirens & Stagnant​+​+ Divinity

by Octa Möbius Sheffner

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1.
rat poison. bombarded by billboards. metropolitan fuckhead with clean teeth so shining they starve the eyes of whoever passes by of emotion. stagnation. this place might as well be hell. today is like any other, any another. stop. enough already. it's too monotonous to talk about this. i check twitter. relentless flood of information noise. arrogantly numb, i've been on the train so many times that a portrait of a conspiracy might as well be the best form of entertainment. bunny music @janislago hmmm i will now type the word cashapp into a tweet. hope nothing bad happens now a few misplaced jokes. some more rotten than others. displaced in the 'small account filter', where only 5 people like your tweets at most. a form of pseudo-intimacy, where the only people who really care to interact with you are the ones that are most close to you in the first place music blares from the speakers in the other room. an mp3 made as a bizarre joke and thrown out into the wild, its identity unlisted and kept a surprise. john cage once said that "If you listen to Beethoven, it's always the same, but if you listen to traffic, it's always different". twitter timelines are the same kind of anarchy. now i've put both together and, if begrudgingly, loaded up all the chambers in sensory overload russian roulette. on second thought, simple hatereading isn't enough for entertainment. no longer enough. it's just making an empty stomach even emptier. i could do with less suicide threats in my life too. now, the new project i've been working on, the supposed 'musical traffic': "hell is a miraculously stagnant place & i love the sunshine that burns my eyes from the inside"
2.
motherfuckers don't finish records cause they waste their efforts on the adrenaline of starting they get caught up in debating image, "what if this name is better than the other one?" just put it out into the wild. finishing is having it out, not having it be perfect [music & nervous laughter]
3.
distant sleep now removed from existence. think i woke up at the wrong place at the wrong time. did i get blackout drunk when i got home? fucking poison never tastes so sweet except when you're tired of manually mixing & panning everything ringtone loops. it's just another ad call. telemarkets are fun when you have the entire world blasting you with noise already. vibrant streets soaked in uncertainty. this world doesn't feel right. none of these colors feel right. who are these people? they seem to be faceless shadows, not human. if this is the land of the dead, i guess i'll still be able to view the 'rest in peaces'. that isn't my voice. that isn't the voice meant to represent me. this reality is broken. this shouldn't exist. i keep closing and opening doors, finding worlds that shouldn't be there. all of them soundtracked by those files i keep on my computer. Sanrio Pička Today at 12:45 PM watching american psycho at 3am today has left me a changed man 3500 (feat. Future Today at 12:53 PM homework over @Sanrio Pička 14 year old discover funny raincoat axe movie Sanrio Pičk aToday at 12:53 PM i have been aware of the movies existence from when i was 11 years old, samuel. run i need to run no matter the cost i need to get out of here (that isn't my voice, that-) [radio jingles, field recordings, notification jingles] "rat poison. bombarded by billboards. metropolitan fuckhead with clean teeth so shining they starve the eyes of whoever passes by of emotion. stagnation. this place might as well be hell." and so it was!
4.
the world that you came from is one you destroyed yourself. simply by making the chains of events that you did. that world can no longer be repaired. and peace for it is impossible. you have done enough. you shall now rest, unable to remember. for better or for worse. you will go back to a reconstructed reality, refreshed to the meaning of your own reality. the fact that nothing is truly stagnant when you embrace the chaos lurking in every corner. your boredom and cynicism were only holding you back. you are free. take this chance now. and leave. ah, morning. fucking hell. i guess i'll google The Game (mind game) just to remind myself what's real. because hell is all i'll live in. and hell is all i'll have to be proud of. or something. why am i going on tirades again? in the end, i check twitter. Skylar Cashmere @baccivorous 2020 was my year and sure, it will be. and it is right now. as long as i don't let myself be hit with more fucking weird trips to hell like that. or something. god, it's fading. The Game.

about

DIR-011
A radio play about, but not limited to, trains, Twitter & Hell.

Starring English (Joey) as narrator and YouTube + samples + original music as everything else, as well English (Salli) as God.

credits

released October 17, 2020

Octa Mobius Sheffner
twitter.com/8_8_8x8_8_8

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all rights reserved

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about

Pal Direct Berlin, Germany

A netlabel run by eiko (aka Oreiko and his real name Jens) and helped by Octa Möbius Sheffner.

This label is designed to release all kinds of obscure and interesting music, being an extension to the bandcamp list on rateyourmusic, which Jens runs.

Submissions form is in links below, as well as the list.
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