Details,  seasnails, etc....

NEW JOINTS:

Homeiswhereyoumakeit

ToastdelDiablo (sermon/rap)

BabyGirl

Steeze (old/new)

MOREYOUMOTHERFUCKERS!MORE!

sonng

the Project lays low but not forgotten. We're working. New creations loom lovely.
Hang in there. Mardi Gras @ the latest.

w/ freedom of the prez.... the STUFFENING's FORMing.

Details. sea snails... autistic folk and young children keep zero-0-1ing the numbing of the dumb something.
Bluegrass. Astroturf. Bleed apocalypse. Think something positve. Electrical connections. Eccentric collections of misspent intention. I'll burn a map made of halfway's highways just to bridge the gap between overpass, overstand, and half-assed static...

EXCUSES ARE BEING MADE AS WE SPEAK.

 

because we don't want you to be caught too off guard. You bring the tar, we'll bring the feathers. Wet shoes off the pleather. Better than fair weather. Wind socks rocked off the flagpole. Tag whole planets, dammit.
...
Nah, but seriously - the project tiles are beginning to tetris themselves nicely into place. And i'm feeling good. A new lineup of old favorites. New favors for the french-fry eating ravers. Sonn and Gunn pull beatnik flypaper capers. Ice scrapers for Que-sauce slathered cadavers. Lather, rinse, repeat... always repeat. New lineup looms large. Weight and sea. Don't worry, it's more than boyant.
...
It's the Psi... and turkeys are lurking.

what is all this? Party's round back. Partly found slack.
90% is half-mental. The other ten meet where light bends and laughter manifest spontaneous.
This is why I bus. Cause some birds flightless and some chests got tightness.
Some Bushes aflame claim righteous.
Often caught, stopped, curmudgeoned, bludgeoned by these yawning judges
lack passion w/ the scorecard for EKG instrumental.
FROM NOW ON I'LL JUST PUT WORDS TO WORDS.
and sounds to sounds: found falling in a treeless forest where everyone is around to hear nothing falling...

the Jackass sez that there's stuffening forming.

it's comforting, warming...

"... wrong never be..."

(ATTN ProjecTiles: enact levity = gravity hearts longevity)

Brevity never. Verbose atrocity coffin. Sound plans often soften into abstract concrete and back to solidstate.
Hardwired to MAC alchemy (grain of salt) spun-gotdone-runsum-spunsum-gotdamn-fatjam-flimflam-filmfan-tincan-static
w/ potential for madness and nerdherd to witness the baddest of the misfits grip fist on microphonic device w/ megaphonics nice.

"Attacks cracks ice..."

"One hand does high-five..." the other digs "... the things in the shit in the hole where my outhouse will never be buit." Spilt milk.

Sonny shovels well, but MAC MOLT will dig a hole into another dimesion and then bolt. Made most. Make more. MAC fantastic alchemic-algorhymic riffs flipped switches and tripped bitches' drip switches. "... seems she's removed her panties... "

Seems Son's left w/ more than enuff to up the ante. Gypsy crystal ball see projected Phoenix rise plan B. Dandy. Mars swore by the awesomeocity of this prospectively preposteously prosperous arsenal. Anvil mandibles. Speak in tongues intangible. Strangers on the street will hand you inflammable candles. Scandals will arise, loft, and then be tossed,  forgotten. Specters will be referenced often. Vectors redirected. Flossing. Mint-waxed. Mental.
You remember the ghost? Gentle bent, haybale rent, incense scent, style-invent-tor, immense inventory of bomb allegory, sing a song of bling-splosion w/ nonchalant crunk v. thunk implosion? Molt raps solid gold, Son. Nobody wants to feel sunk and frozen. Hidden parts of an iceberg. Work w/ it. Everybody's jerks with it. "I'm done seeking title to my servitude..."

Smooth. Dude's couth attitude moved room's doom cloud out the groove.
Move the cloud out. Altitude's proof. Soon doubt scoots. Smooth cubed.

Smiley hava whiskey. Sonny hava beer. Raise a toast to the ghost:
YO, I WISH MAC MOLT WUZ HERE

...

Molt -- thank you again, times infinity, for helping us to get this nasty little snake we call the PROJECT into the  process of swallowing and shitting itself. Sonny'd still be talking in whattifs if you'nda said thissif. Bunny bitches @ bay, and all that rot. Enjoy the dimension you find yerself in.

Sonny Golden

...

postscript: Projectors: look sharp: monsters are watching you sleep!


 

...That is to say Riot In Peace.  He is not dead just a long way from home.  We will miss him exponentially (to the 23rd power).  There is no way we could ever replace him... but we will sure as hell try.  Ha ha ha...FUCK!