April 19th, 2017
Return to the Secret Fort
[Below is a story, but there is also a song that accompanies this story by a person from another story entirely, whose name is Wolfman, and who is performing with the band T.K.O. Hit Parade. Is there a connection between these two imagined timelines? Where does one story end? At what point does the other begin?]
The Woods, 1909
Our secret fort deep in the woods, was a real work in progress. It smelled like piss. Our gang was made up of neighborhood riff raff. Roger was the oldest, then came Benny, myself, and a boy we referred to as, The Jew. Each of us had our own special gift. Roger had charisma. Benny had the strength of an ox. I had the smarts. The Jew was a talented artist. For a penny, he would draw you whatever you wanted.
We kept our dirty pictures and a series of cuss words in a hole we had dug where we also kept our communal cigarettes, and cologne which we used to cloak the scent.
One grey Saturday, Roger reached into that hole, and much to his surprise there was nothing there. Our pack of Piedmont cigarettes was gone. We suspected a rival gang of nicking our contraband.
“They have done a dastardly deed, in a dastardly way!” Said Roger.
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April 16th, 2017
The Bedroom Theater Dispatch
The Bedroom Theater Variety Show: 1
The show below, pasted between two nights of Bedroom Theater, features avant punk musical stylings, a monologue of a teenage girl flowering as a multi-dimensional lifeform in the abyss, candid unplugged versions of classic songs from Mutable’s Glitter Tracks [by the Box Kites] and No Place to Die [by Normal Feelings], as well as a few brand-new numbers, a four-person retelling of The Nightingale by Hans Christian Anderson, and a recorded round table discussion of contemporary politics. Enjoy!
April 16th, 2017
Episode 10: Flow, Plastic Surgery, Visionaries
This week we talk about flow, what it is, and whether it’s really all that good of a thing, alternative forms of plastic surgery—for example, will people ever carve themselves into perfect replicas of pigs? Does it make sense to turn our noses upside down? And megalomaniacs as the drivers of progress, and whether or not madmen are the drivers of change, and specifically… what’s up with Walt Disney?
April 8th, 2017
Mutable Sound of the Month
[This Afrofuturist freak-out by Nicole Mitchell from Mandorla Awakening II: Emerging Worlds---available May 5th from Chicago-based FPE Records---blurs the edges between philosophy and mysticism, modern art and radical political critique. Inspired by the brilliant Afrofuturist author Octavia Butler, Nicole Mitchell dares to use science fiction to pose the question, “What would a world look like that is truly egalitarian, with advanced technology that is in tune with nature?” Enjoy!]
March 25th, 2017
Episode 9: Brutalism, Time Travel, & Net Privacy
This week, for Three Things, we discuss brutalist architecture—whether it’s a throwback to nostalgic sci fi or a soul-crushing example of urban planning—how time travel can go terribly wrong, and what’s up with net privacy. Should we be concerned that our most intimate moments are so easily accessible? Who would want to access them? And generally speaking are slurring words in each other’s general directions. Enjoy!
March 21st, 2017
Is Still Cool S**t: about S**theads
The Captured Project
The Captured Project is an online collection of drawings by prisonors of people who should be in prison. You can check out more of their amazing work here, and can click on the image to find out what crimes have been committed by Rex Tillerson.
March 20th, 2017
The Excerpt Series
The Last Electrician
Michael S. Judge
Mean density of rubber buckshot thuds against the left side of your chest, where cardiograph blossoms tangled with the disk-image star’s genomic stutter, dulled cartridge juddering newly nerveless across grooves worked into kerogen wax and compressed exoskeleton, the milk we’ve wrung from insect marrow,
eaten sunlight feathering the wet-gate star’s medical imagery with chordate quills of charcoal, vertebral preamps each potential for the signal it might route and amplify to some englobing flesh, a dendrite map dwindling with heat loss till it terminates into such gasping syntax as the glyph must break across to get metabolized,
if partially, erratically, momentum altered by the buildup of its own approaching wreckage, swaddled in fallout, cinders to turn the morning richly gray as carbon-heavy glass, optical track snarled up with the feedback of a cell-disruption star and peaking hard on all immunologic frequencies to matte down any EQ’s osseous smile again, the helpless seething grin of the dentition underneath what meat could lend it the appearance of a face you might interpret, still, even this late, render decidable and then pass fractious inaccurate verdict upon, unsure, as we must be, whether that constitutes a habit more tenacious even than the habit of survival or survival’s best remaining chance.
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March 19th, 2017
Apocryphal Histories of the Parasite
Myself From a Great Height (Pt2)
In this second installment in the story of post-apocalyptic Pittsburgh and one strung out man’s effort to get to the bottom of Chinook Electricity and his own unraveling in the world, we witness buildings come alive as they implode, and come face to face with some very unhuman characters in an otherwise abandoned park down by the Point, and generally speaking things just get that much uglier as we continue to follow Jackson Cole down his ever-constricting hole. All music produced and performed by Paul Anthony Medrano.