These things happen.

Everything is okay.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

—GOTH-TRAD MIX @ BTC TOKYO Feb 2011(mono rec)

For fans of Deep Medi Music, Goth Trad, and not always having to change and choose tracks. This mix was found for you.

Today I shall spin you a tale. The other day I went on a rather irresponsible bender disguised as a series of goodbyes to my friends leaving the province/country. I’ll review this extremely hypothetical situation: After 2 evenings of non stop abuse, laughter and naps, I was cajoled into “one last night out” much like the retired diamond thief or 80’s Delta force commando. I couldn’t resist the call. The A-team consisted of my two close Egyptian mates (Easy and Shooks), one shady giant of a human who never did tell us his real name (but we’ll call him John), and myself. At the arrival, drinks were paid for immediately and not by me, which was badass as I’m living in extreme first world poverty at the moment. The dancefloor has several folks here and there, milling about, and the music was good, some technobabbly downtempo, which worked for me. The real action was in the bathroom, as it so often is. The bathroom at this point was apparently also a pharmacy. With a pretty steady stream of traffic in and out. I shall say I left my IQ lower and my spirits higher each time. Dancing for what seems like hours, but at least I kept my shirt on this time, and the hipster chicks seemed to appreciate that. The bad news was that all the females seemed pretty taken, which might not be a problem sometimes, but I am pretty much music at this point, and in no condition to hunt. Need to go outside to the crisp air for a smoke. Giant infant Jon just sits alone inside by himself with his goddamn stupid looking flame contacts. But we’re all too afraid of him to say shit. At least he’s got money and wants us to like him. Outside having a smoke, meet a few lovely ladies, but this one particular girl is motormouthing in a way I think will blow her jaw off, goddamn. Too much speed sweetheart, slow down. Come back inside. Easy and Shooks appear to be having a good time, Easy has obviously become a cat and is meowing loudly, but it’s drowned by the music, and he knows…which is why he doesn’t stop. I try to speak with him, but he’s too far gone for primitive silly mouth words. I take a cue from Shooks and continue to dance the night away. The club is mostly just us now. But we must go as long as music is entering our brains. I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen down a hole, I know Easy has. Shooks better keep Jon preoccupied because we are in no condition to bro around right now. Need fresh air. Need smoke along with fresh air. Was hitting on thecute chick with the black hair and bright blue eyes, who was maybe Polish, but at the very least definitely Eastern European. Score. It was was enough to cut through the regretamine and sober me up briefly. Then I was sober to chat with her boyfriend who materialized out of thin air as they sometimes do. Sigh. Okay soldiers, we have to get to the rendezvous (anywhere but club, preferably back home) at ALL COSTS. We have to leave this club where everything has stopped making sense. Dragging my best cat Easy home back from the club, the Israeli chick was seriously harshing our evening mellow with her stimulant powered unceasing banter on…I can’t remember, but it was still goin’ on when we came back out. I hope she follows her dream. Flame eyes somewhere up ahead bitching about the lack of bitches tonight (ladies were everywhere.) Shooks is dance-walking. Good on him. I’m heavy like a stone, and can’t wait to collapse onto makeshift bed of lawn chair cushions. Everything went better than expected.

Today I shall spin you a tale.

The other day I went on a rather irresponsible bender disguised as a series of goodbyes to my friends leaving the province/country.

I’ll review this extremely hypothetical situation:

After 2 evenings of non stop abuse, laughter and naps, I was cajoled into “one last night out” much like the retired diamond thief or 80’s Delta force commando. I couldn’t resist the call.

The A-team consisted of my two close Egyptian mates (Easy and Shooks), one shady giant of a human who never did tell us his real name (but we’ll call him John), and myself.

At the arrival, drinks were paid for immediately and not by me, which was badass as I’m living in extreme first world poverty at the moment.

The dancefloor has several folks here and there, milling about, and the music was good, some technobabbly downtempo, which worked for me. The real action was in the bathroom, as it so often is. The bathroom at this point was apparently also a pharmacy. With a pretty steady stream of traffic in and out. I shall say I left my IQ lower and my spirits higher each time.

Dancing for what seems like hours, but at least I kept my shirt on this time, and the hipster chicks seemed to appreciate that. The bad news was that all the females seemed pretty taken, which might not be a problem sometimes, but I am pretty much music at this point, and in no condition to hunt.

Need to go outside to the crisp air for a smoke. Giant infant Jon just sits alone inside by himself with his goddamn stupid looking flame contacts. But we’re all too afraid of him to say shit. At least he’s got money and wants us to like him.

Outside having a smoke, meet a few lovely ladies, but this one particular girl is motormouthing in a way I think will blow her jaw off, goddamn. Too much speed sweetheart, slow down.

Come back inside. Easy and Shooks appear to be having a good time, Easy has obviously become a cat and is meowing loudly, but it’s drowned by the music, and he knows…which is why he doesn’t stop. I try to speak with him, but he’s too far gone for primitive silly mouth words. I take a cue from Shooks and continue to dance the night away.

The club is mostly just us now. But we must go as long as music is entering our brains. I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen down a hole, I know Easy has. Shooks better keep Jon preoccupied because we are in no condition to bro around right now. Need fresh air. Need smoke along with fresh air.

Was hitting on thecute chick with the black hair and bright blue eyes, who was maybe Polish, but at the very least definitely Eastern European. Score. It was was enough to cut through the regretamine and sober me up briefly. Then I was sober to chat with her boyfriend who materialized out of thin air as they sometimes do. Sigh.

Okay soldiers, we have to get to the rendezvous (anywhere but club, preferably back home) at ALL COSTS. We have to leave this club where everything has stopped making sense. Dragging my best cat Easy home back from the club, the Israeli chick was seriously harshing our evening mellow with her stimulant powered unceasing banter on…I can’t remember, but it was still goin’ on when we came back out. I hope she follows her dream. Flame eyes somewhere up ahead bitching about the lack of bitches tonight (ladies were everywhere.) Shooks is dance-walking. Good on him. I’m heavy like a stone, and can’t wait to collapse onto makeshift bed of lawn chair cushions.

Everything went better than expected.

For those of you who don’t know Dimilite yet. Let me just say, there is something quite nostalgic about childhood in this twangy beat. It starts out rather Brian Wilson, but then he quickly becomes lost in a forest because someone has dosed him with that acid I dosed him with. ANYWAYS, check it out.

Edit: Brian Wilson + Locust Toybox = Dimilite?

Well, I came across Rebeka’s poppy Florence-meets-futuredisco vibes completely by accident, and it’s quite tasty. Sink your bones into this one.

Let’s begin again, shall we?

Let’s begin again, shall we?

adrugcalledlife: I think the fact that DMT is illegal is more absurd than marijuana being illegal. Sure, the effects on the brain are more profound, than THC, but its fucked up how the laws of the catholic church deemed any hallucinogenic substance to be the work of the devil. They were so combative and hard headed so they outlawed any hallucinogens because they were too closely related to shamanism, for they protested all other religions. The US government was built on religion as the first colonists were protestants. Hallucinogens were never actually re-evaluated on a legal level. Tragic.  Each and every human being is in possession of DMT in our brains. Most plants and animals also contain DMT. So when it comes down to it, if they cant arrest me for having DMT in my brain, can they arrest me for trying to hide a bag of DMT in my mouth?  FUCK YOU SOCIETY. DMT IS THE LANGUAGE OF ALL LIVING BEINGS. ∞

adrugcalledlife:

I think the fact that DMT is illegal is more absurd than marijuana being illegal. Sure, the effects on the brain are more profound, than THC, but its fucked up how the laws of the catholic church deemed any hallucinogenic substance to be the work of the devil. They were so combative and hard headed so they outlawed any hallucinogens because they were too closely related to shamanism, for they protested all other religions. The US government was built on religion as the first colonists were protestants. Hallucinogens were never actually re-evaluated on a legal level. Tragic. 

Each and every human being is in possession of DMT in our brains. Most plants and animals also contain DMT. So when it comes down to it, if they cant arrest me for having DMT in my brain, can they arrest me for trying to hide a bag of DMT in my mouth? 

FUCK YOU SOCIETY. DMT IS THE LANGUAGE OF ALL LIVING BEINGS. ∞

(Source: corey-atx420, via neo-psychedelia)

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
VVV

—Duration of Light

Open your brain.

VVV - Duration of Light