a-non

a collection of voice memo field recordings from my cellphone.
side A: ribbit collage
side B: frog legs on linoleum flooring

by 🧇

pond e.p.

saludos & feliz cumpleaños, 
do you even two cakes bro?🏋️


hbd-2-lc,2023.🎂

🎂🎂's

aperion 

Arlen Maltby needed a vacation. Work was unbearable, the neighbors were encroaching on his hammock time, and the seasonal allergens had returned for one final scrimmage. Unfazed by the recession and the gloomy weather report, Arlen extricated his favorite duffel bag from the attic and began to pack. 

“Hrmmm, yes…yes Smooches, I am declaring the next seventy-two hours: vacation time!” he announced to his favorite calico. 

“One would be wise to pack two sets of swim trunks, but I shall up the ante and pack three! Just in case!” 

“Sunscreen, check! Heh heh, safety first!” 

Arlen moved in such a way that it seemed his hands were afire. Rushing to and fro, rifling through dresser drawers, grabbing at outfits, tossing his favorites into the bag with frenzied precision. 

“I am go-ing on vay-cay-tion. I am go-ing down south. If you love Piña cola-das, you gotta throw them in your mouth!” He sang the improvised song to the melody of the Rupert Holmes classic, ‘Escape’.  

“Should I bring the gillie suit? Nah, no room for it. I will leave it with you Smooches.” 

His trusty calico purred softly before raising her legs akimbo to aggressively lick her undercarriage. The telephone in the kitchen came to life, startling Smooches, who quit the room and sprinted into the foyer. Arlen, who was now mid-shave, lathered in his very best shaving cream, raced to the kitchen to unseat the phone receiver from its cradle. 

“Hello hell-o, Arlen Maltby speaking.” 

On the other end of the phone the sound of laughter and faint music could be heard; then a nervous voice penetrated the foreground. 

“Ah, yes uh, hello Arlen..? This is, um…Hasdrubal.” said a quiet, stammering voice on the other end of the line.

“Hasdrubal, you son of a bitch! How are you today my friend?!” Arlen stated with gusto.

“I, uh, yeh I’m fine, Arlen. I was just calling to see what you uh, what you…thought about my latest rooster drawing, uh did you get a kick out it?” Hasdrubal was stuttering and incoherent. Arlen assumed the worst.

“Yeh, of course! It was super, Hasdrubal! Say, how are you doing, is everything okay? I’m about to take a little personal vacation myself, headed out to the coast to catch some rays. Perhaps you’d want to jump on the next flight to meet me? Do you like the beach Hasdrubal?”

There was a long pause. “Uh, yeah, I suppose the beach is okay. Hehe, like sand castles are alright, I guess. Um, I’m just gonna stay here and draw more roosters, I do hope you uh, you…understand.” 

Hasdrubal had a voice that jumped timbres often, cracking and shifting, sometimes sounding like the voice of a child with too many candies inside their mouth. 

“Sure thing, no sweat Has. Anyhow, I still need to find a sitter for Smooches, so I should probably run.” 

Arlen was digging out some paint chips from beneath his fingernails; ‘Can’t have these nails looking too unsightly…do I have time for a quick trip to the manicurist?’ he thought to himself as the impasse grew. Arlen continued to dig at the finger nails.  

“Uh, yeh okay. Cool, well I have to uh, um…you have a fun vacation, Arlen. Okay bye.” And with that the line went silent. Arlen did not even have a chance to wish Hasdrubal farewell. 

“Hmmm, what an odd bird that Hasdrubal is, wouldn’t you agree Smooches? Oh yes, yes of course you agree, Smooches.” 

The friendly calico was kneading the taper of Arlens corduroy trousers, purring with aplomb. 

“Yes, an odd one indeed. Well, Smooches, shall we find a sitter for you?"

Arlen tapped away at the screen of his cellular phone, requesting the sitter through an SMS text message, one of the true miracles of the modern world. 

All packed, and with a caretaker secured for the feline, Arlen searched his Members Only jacket for his favorite sunglasses. 

“Ah, here you are, come to daddy!” he exclaimed, retrieving the glasses from the right breast pocket. 

One last check of the pageboy hairdo in the mirror, and he was off for the convertible. The car started with a rumble and a plume of exhaust coughed itself out of the tail pipe. 

“Alright, lets fuckin party!” Arlen screamed as he threw the car into reverse. The evening breeze felt wonderful against his fresh shave. All of his neighbors waved as he drove by, some blew kisses. Eventually the convertible exited the cul-de-sac.  

“Freedom, finally…my reward.”

When he settled the highway, Arlen fished around inside of a bag of cassettes on the passenger seat, looking for just the right one to set the mood.

“Oh, haha, the cassette dear Hasdrubal mailed last month, guess I will give it another try!” He slammed the tape into the car stereo and the beat began to fade in. 

“Heh, not bad Hasdrubal, not bad at all.” After several minutes, the tape had ended.

“Guess I’ll see what’s on the radio.” 

Arlen fiddled with the tuner until he heard the familiar chorus of ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin. Arlen turned the receiver all the way up and began to sing along. 

The vacation was off to a great start.     

arlen goes on vacation


the ⭕️🐅 kids suture themselves together & make an avant-garde album using tape splices. far out.

by 🧇 

concrète

⭕️🐅/🐅⭕️
debut cassette from cabal & the caballeros
side a: the gm song, santiago has advice about radishes, gn frens
side b: human kernel theme song, waffle sleng teng, the ngmi song


jpeg&mp3 by 🧇

All tracks by tz1Rq...iTHVb a-non