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Practical Times

by viewer/error

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1.
it’s this dream where the moon grows and shrinks in size each night like a full cycle in a single sky turn it hung one night outside the window and only outside that window under which I’m still for now sleeping I turned to the dog and said, “do you see it too?” I turned to the dog and said, “do you see it too?” and she nodded along with the glow from an otherwise still dark and I knew it then.
2.
Only a Test 03:06
this is a test this is a test this is a test this is a test of both existing will and existing patience this is a test this is a test to find which madness was soon made manifest this is a test this a test this is a test of God’s love for sickness in happenstance this is a test this is a test this is a test testing – testing – this is a test this is a test of the cleanliness of three specific breaks this is a test of what you know versus what you’ve taken to heart a test of how well you can follow a streak of light’s tail end this is a test this is a test this is a test of honor if honor was all you had left but also all but entirely forgotten this is a test this is a test
3.
And The 02:55
What are you spinning? a cape? to drape over shoulder to slip out shhhhhh quiet now have you lost count of how many spins to let in and let out of a body? no … no … it’s always my body they’re always my tracks it’s always my body doing the counting and the feeling and the feeling and the feeling and the and the and the and the and the and the did you know? did you know? did you always know the ashes before facing flame did you try forgetting each day as soon as it was over? did you know? did you know? did you know the rules changed in the midst of the game? did you know did you still win? did you know and did you win? did you know? and did you win? did you know? did you know? did you know?
4.
open directly into madness I am standing freely and undressed in a burning room screaming, “FIRE” but everyone is pretending to enjoy the heat and worse thinks I’m yelling higher but I’ve stayed high long enough to fuck myself up in the end I admit I needed it – a means of softening the edges a slight dulling of the senses but then they took worst crutch and gave it my full name and are laughing still but in a panicked way a way that says, ‘we don’t know what to do with every little bit of you but if we stay relatively still the flames might burn around instead of through’
5.
hotel room anxiety background noise tv calling out to me to everyone on either side of either wall a feeling – heavy, dread when you kick a glass a drop in your gut eye a new stain still fresh and violently shaped a drop in the bucket fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading I’m doing snow angels in coffee damp carpet I’m doing snow angels on southern hill of my hometown park I’m doing snow angels in coffee damp carpet I’m doing snow angels on the bone dry sidewalk outside a first apartment in the river breeze I'm doing snow angels in coffee damp carpet and no one will yell at me no one will ever yell at me again because it and I are tameable things blemishes easily treated changed over and freshened all as temporary as a one-night-sleep’s guests or all as temporary as the wetness left from the rings of the initially spilled glass aforementioned fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading fading and drying and drying and fading
6.
minutes pass better in the daydreams where all hope rooted still feels as natural as breathing in and out breathe in and out and out and around the room made from phrases you were once quite proud of and could still pronounce with ease of native tongue escorted by an air of cool thickening the room like smoke I’ve never said it but lately I’ve learned home is what you make it – the effort home is what you make it out of – the substance home is what you out with – the fruits I’ll tuck myself back in for now to reality painted gray strokes so vague and just muted enough you’d think they’d be the wind and I’ll sway just in case and just in case of emergency just sway the way you were taught in the womb and in every instance since when you had to tighten your eyelids into nothing and beg for forgiveness for wishing a way out for wishing a way through a little faster rather than better the minutes they’re passing rapid and I don’t know if that’s the same anymore but breath still catches in most hoarse throat and so I try to breathe in and out and I breathe in and out and I breathe in and out
7.
karma bit down on me like a starved dog I lost by little then by lots slowly then suddenly and all at once the skies and my teeth opened and darkened and my bones cracked – heat lightning it is ignorant to deny how long it must have been brewing inside of me swirling like storm or runoff building a tension approaching the snap I knew a day would come I knew I couldn’t run about and taunt the me I knew a year before and even one more before like an older brother or a bully or a sharp spot on the line between the two things I knew I couldn’t afford to be mean but I still was at least quietly only raised my voice when yelling at myself that’s something I’ve kept but as rot sets in – long winter I don’t know what I deserve in terms of what I get to say at this point I guess it would be somewhere along the lines of, “I fought and then I stopped”
8.
he appears the second man of body in the bare hallway before me and pulls the horse from the tattoo at his neck and sets it amidst the stale air between us and I’ll admit it he never said it – that it wouldn’t buck at stun or startle I just didn’t expect such little reaction at such obvious struggle and now the horse runs and weathers its worn shoes and now the horse runs in place and in tune with the creak of bed or bone under the pulse to ooze loathing fashioned this time to mimic spine and more a sense of self outside of only distance from someone else or how I seem or how I seem or how I present in the camera in the mirror in the window pane in a puddle or the eye of the man in front of me
9.
I know I know I’m an addict because nothing feels as good as something full I know it got real bad but still not as bad as it really could and I know it’s the remnants of the wreckage from which to maybe pull signs of life left from crash called crash called accident called I let you down again called I won’t let you down again ‘cause I won’t chase full again and I am not a twin nor keeper nor confidant and I am no longer a mirror for him to see himself in just a little brighter and further away and quite slighter in frame and grace yet stronger in spine and in tact and now I know too I know I’m an addict because nothing feels as good as something full I know I’m a sister because I know his demons better than I ever should and can predict their strikes and anticipate the lies stretched to hell and back to justify and I won’t hear it this time I won’t hear it in this lifetime like I will not be shield like I will not be jail cell like I will not be translator like I will not be full
10.
the soles of my feet have split like the tender belly of a fish they’re leaking – no they’re not leaking they’re spilling – no purging a sludge and red so red to the point of darkness again and viscous textured even to the point that I can feel it all leaving like a mortal wound prefaced everything in years before a kid cartoon more than likely a source but the waves forming ‘round my ankles now mean more like how I ended up collecting so much dust and am being cleaned from the inside out I’m pulsing from the ripple of the remnants that will dissolve and be bloodlet eventually ‘til entirely cleanly
11.
Resignation 02:05
avoid action to avoid connection to avoid any likely disappointment I’ll admit it the easy part it’s easier checking out easier living without a hope wrapped ‘round the throat like reptile or vine squeezing at last chance for life outside a bed carved by hand with the expectation to live in it lie in it lie in it die in it til dirt and from dirt comes the old and new kinds of hurt not unlike a scratch but more a burn from the steam from a wish slowly then quickly evaporating up from the air to the air up from the air to the air around
12.
stuck again and you’re still breaking in like a gull through glass or a voice in the static I’m trying to make out I’m trying to make it out what you’re saying but hushed always was best way whether song or meeting place you never filled me in which aisle of the library you’d call your favorite years pass and then but you’re still breaking in and sickly I keep hoping for it to happen but really I’m asking but really I’m asking what is it you want? what is it you want? what is it you want? what is it you want? what is it you want? a penny for your thoughts as if it matter much after all and after all time stretched like hide or a tale growing tall and after all we knew an end would eventually come so go tell me of it the truth that is what is it you want? what is it you want? again or again or again in continuance what is it you want? what is it you want? the past as it wasn’t or time as it is to break into again like space left vacant surface undisturbed just begging for a mess to be made in and all over it
13.
I didn’t know I didn’t feel well I broke a square out of my left-side ribs and served a small bite to eat upon it but I thought it all normal enough I didn’t know I didn’t feel well the presence of some toxins are felt only in their absence and I wasn’t there yet in any sense but I could call a spade a spade a spade I could note each and every way a sickness takes shape and still not flag a cloudiness in my own eyes like cataracts or stray black liquid liner I’m taking a break from giving names to feelings I’ve haven't had the chance to explore breaking away from still the small but mighty braided chains that kept me tethered to the wall of someone else’s sickly house I didn’t know I didn’t feel well til the sun came up and I saw my reflection in a puddle and gasped at all the hollow grinning back at me I always knew that there was more I didn’t and I sure, sure really didn’t I always knew the bass line in my head could be translated I always knew the face that saw me back in the brain wasn’t meant to be there I always knew the smile held a mouth full of sharp objects begging to pricked upon as if something fated could be coerced it’s the confirmation now the feelings shaped like stone to facts keeping me upright it’s the sight of the bright smile against the heavy face in the background of a good day without losing my place or my feet from the ground it’s the growth in the wake of the rot in the fear of the rot and the step out from a rut driven down from years of trying and trying and trying to get out again
14.
my eardrums have started to swell like verging a birth the muffling begins with a soft blow to the senses but still hurts the feelings of everyone around me and mine as if kicking a carcass will ring pain in time with the barking the dogs are barking again can you hear me? I said the dogs are barking again whining now in the slight but still aching cold too cold for the snow to fall down hear me? better – can you hear the barking? it’s all ringing doorbells and rotary phones but deeper like a secret can you hear me? I’m barking along I’m in the frost I’m in the frost I’m in the frost and I’m barking along ‘cause why couldn’t I be a dog I do little else but love and want I’m in the frost alone or with a chorus bellowing along I’m in the frost I’m in the frost barking along
15.
Adherence 03:39
the schedule says to lie down the schedule says to curl up in a ball now the schedule says, “are you mad at me?” the schedule says there are other men at work the schedule says to break again whatever that’s worth the schedule says it’s empty time that makes you kind of wonder what really passed a year or an hour but from where I’m at I feel every fucking second pass have you ever have you ever bowed out reminder rings church bell in front stress it no vacation from non-existence and I apologize for any inconvenience the schedule says it’s time for change the schedule says shave off old day the schedule says look for diamonds in the dirt then at yourself for a bit compare the view in a shiny surface the schedule says break the line break the line break the line the schedule says now more hoarsely who do you believe the schedule says now more quietly the reaper or the rest the schedule says still quietly if it matters you’ll figure it out and fast schedule fell to flame and in wake left just a medal of Anthony and piles of ash in the shapes of ways out of the vaguely alluring mess felt like a tank on the chest in an absence
16.
someone (someone) someone has been speaking to me (someone) all day now (all day) in this empty house (it’s too empty for this to be happening) someone (someone) someone has been speaking to me (someone) all day now (all day) in this empty house (the house is so empty) with my thumbnail sharpened I’ll press an X into my head like it’s a mosquito bite to stop the itching if just for a little bit someone has been speaking to me all day in this empty house drawn on in dark by a ghost in night left foot sporting scribbles turned to phrases something like an addiction to spitting fire burns more than just another or how many more empty holes point to nothing undercover thin (thin) thin skin (thin skin) as paper as canvas as permanence staining a pale however cleansed there are still bits memory and toxin braided to bond used as ties to attach upon the hitches and drag themselves along to new new new, new day it’s a new day and I’m still catching up on what that someone was saying without making known their footprint nor intention of staying around long enough to find comfort in bodiless whisper to break bread to make friends with chilled space in the air and call it socialization and call it unchecked hysteria mixed well with the desperation for any bit of chance that feels like chance used to before the itch set in
17.
Easy Way Out 03:12
fury is fast acting but disappointment it takes its time I’ve never exactly known where you keep yours but I’ve boldly wielded mine like both identity and weapon I have a lot of weapons (I have a lot of weapons) or rather fashioned items otherwise non-violent and probably quite pathetic like holding onto hopes too long past their due and yet still shocked in the end taking in a dying thing’s scent like beloved perfume I’ve sunk (sunk deeper) into your head (into your head) like too much perfume (pungent) stinging behind your eyes like I knew what I was doing instead of simply being all the accidents of the universe poorly made human (attempt is so much energy) I am not a good human like I am not a good woman like I am not a good example of what to do in a tense situation I’ll take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out I’ll always take the easy way out

about

Through experiment, patchwork, and poetics, Brooklyn-based duo viewer/error were drawn to craft an audio-collage based music, using found sounds, played instruments, and spoken word performance. The result is their first album, “Practical Times” – a collection of layered, often haunting tracks that play with the borders of genre and composition, the solid and the ephemeral

Recorded in both Brooklyn and Northwest Ohio, “Practical Times” cracks open doors, sits in quiet rooms, and allows the sinister presence. viewer/error is a collaboration between multi-instrumentalist K Marang (sounds, instruments, recording) and Taylor Sprow (words, vocals, recording).

credits

released November 17, 2023

Run Time [41:19]

Words, Vocals, Recording: Taylor Sprow
Sounds, Instruments, Recording: K Marang

Special thanks to Divine Oui for her special chewing abilities

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viewer/error Brooklyn, New York

Through experiment, patchwork, and poetics, Brooklyn-based duo viewer/error were drawn to craft an audio-collage based music, using found sounds, played instruments, and spoken word performance.

viewer/error is a collaboration between multi-instrumentalist K Marang (sounds, instruments, recording) and Taylor Sprow (words, vocals, recording).
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