Aug. 22nd, 2007

wolven7: (The Very Devil)
To play his stuff. The following:

['Allo,

'If you know / like DeathBoy music, please read on. If not, feel free to skip ;)

'I'm pooling information with my label, Line Out Records about the following:

' * DJs (that would like promo material)

' * Radio Stations / Webcasts / Similar (that would like a promo CD or two)

' * Clubs (that might book us)

' * Shops (for instance, that might stock our music, or place a promo box on the counter)


'If you are, or know one of the above, please drop me a comment (replies screened for address privacy, etc) :)

'Promo materials, and the possibility of scruffy DeathBoy type oiks turning up in your town to play at a gig COULD BE YOURS! ;)

'This info wouldn't be used to spam - if there are lists we think you might like to be a member of, I would ASK you if you would like to be added. We don't want to waste our time or yours!

'Also, please don't assume that we already have the information about your favourite club / pub / station / etc. 9/10, if you leave a comment, you might be the only person who has bothered to, so please take a second :)

'Thankya!'
]

So. Clubs, radios, DJs, promoters, I know that ALL OF YOU ARE HERE, Right Now.

Take a listen. Drop a line.
wolven7: (Me)
I have this feeling of distant potential, right now, like i'm not connected to either of my departments, like there's too many new people, and I don't know any of them, and like... Well. You know how you see old people being shuffled around through nursing homes, an attendant at their arm listening to them talk about the high points of their life?

I feel that way. I feel like that, but in an academic sense, if you can isomorph those two, properly. I have faith in you.

At the same time, i feel like there's this burgeoning potential, right now, like there are Things that i need to say, or that someone needs to do, and, for once, I have no idea what it is. It's a tipping point, a balancing node, and I have no idea what the directions are, let alone toward which I want to push it.

Diskonnekt. Apart from you and me, and her, and that jack ass, over there.
Dyskonnect. As it were, a simple distance unclosed, untouched.
The sense of touch. Reach your hand out, and place your finger tips against it.
Register. Brush the surface, graze the edges, and get a feeling for it.

What do you feel? How does the Shape resolve itself, to you? Forget the visual, and inform me of the textural. Tell me how it feels, and I can teach you how to operate, by sense of touch.
wolven7: (The Very Devil)
From [livejournal.com profile] thurisazshole:



So, these used to be a single battery unit. Puncture them, and you'd get acid everywhere. Now they're stacked 394's, which are the standard Small sized watch batteries. Insanely expensive little fuckers, even bought just at the store. They cost about 7 cents from the manufacturers.

Nice, huh?

ReKonnekt

Aug. 22nd, 2007 05:24 pm
wolven7: (The Very Devil)
Everything I discussed, this morning?

Reversed by this afternoon. By the Events of this afternoon.

Conversations with friends, understandings of where everyone is, in the department, and a feeling of fulfilled poerr and potential (but not used up; just used).

Hot as hell, but a damn good day, so far. So thank you.

And apparently Pete the Trivia Guy has found this journal, so: Hey. How's it goin'.

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