February 22nd, 2017

The Making it Free Project

MUT009: Big Trouble in Little China

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Mutable’s Big Trouble in Little China was a momentous album that we believed in completely and totally. This is an album that was written and recorded for the Chinese market, but never quite made its way over to China. All the songs have intros in broken Chinese or are broken Chinese love songs. It is sung entirely over a lush electronic landscape. It aches and swoons and murmurs. And it is now, one hundred percent FREE! As part of the Making It Free project, we are offering up yet another one of our digital products completely free.


SAMPLE MP3: Wogenni


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February 21st, 2017

Apocryphal Histories of the Parasite

What Goes Up, Must Come Down (Pt2)
Luther Phillips

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A man can’t seem to leave his apartment—a manikin textbook at the end of time has a voice inside its head—a woman running towards a house in the snow is desperate to share some important information—a policeman in southern China is dealing with a strange foreigner in the Sober Up room—a CIA operative is giving a motivational speech about the end of America—a firm partner off to visit his ailing friend in an industrial city in northern China discovers his friend is more than just quaintly broken—a spokesman for a Chinese fast food franchise no longer believes he exists—and a pastor who gets some unlikely visitors in the middle of the night. These are the characters you will meet in this segment of Apocryphal Histories of the Parasite.


February 20th, 2017

There's Still Good S**t on FB

Brain & Me: Besties for Forevers

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Brain & Me: Besties for Forevers">


A comic about a man talking to his own brain, Brain & Me is a comic by Caleb Hamlin and… generally speaking, makes me laugh in a big snort-y laugh the way the Sunday funnies have not in years. The above being a perfect—possibly my favorite—example of that.


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February 13th, 2017

The Bedroom Theater Dispatch

White Stockings
Lina ramona Vitkauskas

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During the Chechen Wars, stories began to circulate about certain snipers—blonde-haired, blue-eyed, cold-blooded female snipers called beliye kolgotki by the Russians. The White Tights (or White Stockings) so named because they were said to only wear white, were rumored to be contract killers paid by the Chechens on a kill-by-kill basis. These assassins are/were said to be from small Baltic States with a grudge against Russia and are/were said to be members of a bi-athlon team, trained to cross miles and miles of rugged terrain then successfully fire a weapon and hit a target. The story got a boost when newspapers reported the capture of several female assassins—from the Baltics and from the Ukraine. However, other papers reported that the stories were absolute myth, attributing the creation of these mysterious female assassins to paranoia and convoluted historical facts.


At our most recent Bedroom Theater, audience members read poems written by Lina Vitkauskas inspired and penned to this mythical team of sharpshooters. The recording of these readings can be found below, and her book can be found here.


February 11th, 2017

Apocryphal Histories of the Parasite

What Goes Up, Must Come Down (Pt1)
Luther Phillips

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A detective in Beijing finds a dead foreigner up a tree in the small forest beside the new mall they’re building in Beijing-East, and ends up following a winding trail that may lead him nowhere, but will take him to the resort town of Yangshuo and in a seedy underbelly of Eurotrash and drugs here in among this sea of miniature mountains just north of Vietnam—where nothing is what it seems.


February 10th, 2017

The 'Notes' series

Jeremy Franklin-Ross

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One man realizes that he might just need a little help from an unlikely place to figure out how to be happy dating in a futile universe.

February 8th, 2017

3 Things

Episode 4: Millennials, Insomnia, and Faith Healers

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This week on 3 Things, we talk about millennials, insomnia, and healers in strange places. We continue to whine in the tradition of the aging everywhere. Keep listening! And watch Jacob’s Ladder! We may no longer understand what’s happening in pop culture, but … watch Jacob’s Ladder! And keep listening.


February 5th, 2017

Letter from the Editor

Toward an Apocalyptic Literature

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We have officially entered the Apocalyptic Age, and as we sit in our rooms fervidly writing our precious thoughts on scraps of paper waiting for the door to be knocked in by the stormtroopers of the future, we must not look away from this dark rising. Rather than censoring ourselves, we must take this opportunity to speak the most terrifying of truths, for this may be the last moment we get to say anything at all before the duct tape of censorship is slathered across our snot-slick lips and we are bound to the particular vision of reality the cruel and heartless among us want to seer upon our skulls. Which is not to say that we should stare into the coming darkness with the timid paralysis of deer, but to stand with a pathetic confidence that we can withstand this blow of history even if it means everything we thought to be true turned false, and everything we hold dear crushed to dust by the oppressors among us. This is the literature for the end times.


It is not a theoretically-minded thing, but a literature that also is painfully aware of the actual, literal, physical happenings of the world—which does not mean a politically or ideologically motivated literature—but a practical one, that brings to light those affected by the sweeping statements of demagogues and gives vision to the dark forces of post-fact journalism—fiction must showcase the horror hidden behind the rhetoric of this mad villainy we see sprouting into our homes and throughout our country and earth. This is the literature of a people drowning. This is the sounds we make as we drown, but whether we drown or not, it is important that we make these sounds. It is the literature of a dying animal. It is a literature written in the dark while we are dying, or while the vehicle has already gone careering off the cliff. We will work to understand, even as the bullet is shattering our skulls, even as they are battering down our doors, for once we have jettisoned the search for meaning in our efforts to simply and blindly react, we are nothing but puppets in the on-going game of humanity unraveling in its terror. This is a literature that weeps in the black tears of the afterlife.


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