… wisdom of inexperience … is perhaps a strategy to avoid

dougmeet

Softest Lydian

dougmeet

free improv avant-garde neoclassic art damage psychology, electroacoustic, field dance

is perhaps a strategy to avoid

You’ve just identified the central tragedy of the verisimilitude prank: the "overly authentic face" is the session singer (like Ramsey Kearney) who treats the insanity with absolute, unwavering professional gravity [SEARCH_RESULT_1]. To waste one's "authentic face" in the Land of Orange—a landscape that is simultaneously Upton Sinclair’s California(of "Orange Groves and Jails") and Ghassan Kanafani’s Land of Sad Oranges—is to become a philosophaster of the citrus groves. You are performing "seriousness" in a place where the scenery itself is a bright, acidic hallucination. [1, 2] Here is the John Shade-via-Suno blueprint for the clodpate who refuses to be cursed for his "wasted" time: "The Lucubration of the Waxwing" (To be delivered with the [voice rough from crying] of a man who just realized his leg is a grapefruit) [clears throat] [low voice] I lived on, flew on, in the [emphasis] reflected sky... [long pause] [chuckling] But the sky was just a puddle of Fanta in a hardware store. [sigh] [angry] Don't tell me about the "serious life"! [inhale] [whispering] My face is a poetaster's mask made of peel. [giggle] [loud voice] I’m not wasting time! I’m [emphasis] composting it! [panting] [soft voice] Everything is orange. Totally orange. [shouting] WHO SPILLED THE PLASTINIA ON MY SHADE?! The "Orange" Damage: The Authentic Mask: By using [voice rough from crying], we mock the "serious" tragedy of Nabokov’s Shade while literally standing in the Land of Orange Groves. The Clod-Word Defense: If anyone curses you for wasting time, simply retort with the grammaticaster’s defense: you aren't idling; you are achieving a state of clodpated verisimilitude. [3] Shall we feed this into the Suno engine to see if the AI can handle the sadness of the oranges, or should we find another -aster to blame for the mess?

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Relying on … wisdom of … B_dw__s_r _s n f th b_gg_st s_ll_ng b__rs n th w_rld. _t s br_w_d by th _nh__s_r-B_sch br_w_r__s n th _n_t_d St_t_s b_t _t h_s ts r_g_ns n th Cz_ch R_p_bl_c. n 2008 nh__s_r-B_sch s_ld m_st f th p_r_t__ns t th B_lg__n-Br_z_l__n b__r g__nt nB_v, t cr__t th l_rg_st br_w_ng c_mp_ny n th w_rld. Br_w_ng f th p_l l_g_r b__r st_rt_d _n 1876 nd h_s b_c_m _n _m_r_c_n _c_n. B_dw__s_r _cc__nts f_r _v_r h_lf _f ll b__rs s_ld n th S. L_k _th_r b__rs, B_dw__s_r s kn_wn f_r ts d_st_nct_v b_ttl _nd l_b_l, b_th f wh_ch r_m__n_d l_rg_ly nch_ng_d s_nc 1876. Tr_d_t__n s mp_rt_nt t th c_mp_ny. ts w_bs_t s_ys: “t B_dw__s_r, w t_k n_rm__s pr_d n br_w_ng th gr__t _m_r_c_n l_g_r. B_t b__ng _ p_rt _f _m_r_c_n h_st_ry nd l_f _s wh_t r__lly m_k_s _s pr__d.” is perhaps a strategy to avoid You’ve just identified the central tragedy of the verisimilitude prank: the "overly authentic face" is the session singer (like Ramsey Kearney) who treats the insanity with absolute, unwavering professional gravity [SEARCH_RESULT_1]. To waste one's "authentic face" in the Land of Orange—a landscape that is simultaneously Upton Sinclair’s California(of "Orange Groves and Jails") and Ghassan Kanafani’s Land of Sad Oranges—is to become a philosophaster of the citrus groves. You are performing "seriousness" in a place where the scenery itself is a bright, acidic hallucination. [1, 2] Here is the John Shade-via-Suno blueprint for the clodpate who refuses to be cursed for his "wasted" time: "The Lucubration of the Waxwing" (To be delivered with the [voice rough from crying] of a man who just realized his leg is a grapefruit) [clears throat] [low voice] I lived on, flew on, in the [emphasis] reflected sky... [long pause] [chuckling] But the sky was just a puddle of Fanta in a hardware store. [sigh] [angry] Don't tell me about the "serious life"! [inhale] [whispering] My face is a poetaster's mask made of peel. [giggle] [loud voice] I’m not wasting time! I’m [emphasis] composting it! [panting] [soft voice] Everything is orange. Totally orange. [shouting] WHO SPILLED THE PLASTINIA ON MY SHADE?! The "Orange" Damage: The Authentic Mask: By using [voice rough from crying], we mock the "serious" tragedy of Nabokov’s Shade while literally standing in the Land of Orange Groves. The Clod-Word Defense: If anyone curses you for wasting time, simply retort with the grammaticaster’s defense: you aren't idling; you are achieving a state of clodpated verisimilitude. [3] Shall we feed this into the Suno engine to see if the AI can handle the sadness of the oranges, or should we find another -aster to blame for the mess?

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