4. Get it on iTunes.  Get it on Bandcamp.

  8. Portraits Of The White Man

    I have reservations about this place. I have reservations at 5 o’clock. Keep the river on your right and your spear pointing down - we don’t want no accidents! Keep the river on your right and your spear pointing down - we don’t want no accidents! I have reservations at restaurants. I have reservations of indians. Keep the river on your right and your spear pointing down! Keep the river on your right and your spear pointing down!

  9. The Birds

    Men who are free will make their messes in the street and eat their bread in the park like a bird. Men who are free will join the masses in the streets and will be led in the dark by a bird. Men who are free will take their hands to be their feet and will be as dead as a lark is a bird. Men who are slaves were never surer of their fate than when they first caught a glimpse of a bird. Men who are slaves were sleeping soiled in the rain and were averse to the hints of a bird. Pity the man who turns a wing into a hand and turns a song from a sound to a word. And a woman is a man is a man a man with long hair. A man is a word or a sound; a shape and hot air. A word is, is a name or a, or a pointing finger: Fire! Run away run away! Grab the pitcher! Water! Fill it up! Fill it up with water! Take it far away! Far away! As it is given. In the hidden, and dark, in the kitchen and the heavens; on the subway, and platform; on the bridges and the statues I saw birds. Men without name know the true meaning of shame and keep alone. Men without law know what a riot squad is for and keep alone. Men without words practice the politics of birds and keep alone. 

  10. Observations

    All the pianos in 宝山区 are on fire are on fire are on fire. And if the smoke can be seen from where you are you are not far. Don’t wait for the bus: the bus will not come. The drivers have surely joined the crowd that’s marching the streets, turning up cars, soaking the mattresses in oil. All the pianos in 宝山区 are on fire are on fire are on fire. And if the smoke can be seen from where you are you are not far. Don’t wait for the bus: the bus will not come. The drivers have surely joined the throng that’s marching the streets, setting off flares, and singing loud this song “When I was just a little babe I had the impression that living was pleasant. I never had the slightest doubt: the industry leader, he equaled the peasant. The future was a simple kind - a different shape of the present. Now that I have grown in age, I look for the symbols of weakness in others. My hope is that I dominate horizons of those whose names I had uttered in childhood games that taught me how to make a friend and forget him.” All the pianos in 宝山区 are on fire are on fire are on fire. All the pianos in 宝山区 are on fire are on fire are on fire. Don’t wait for the bus - it’s best not to come: the people are drowning in a rage that’s mixed with a fear that each has been had. A victim of what they can’t explain. This is not to say I don’t understand. This is just to summarize observations I made while spending a day in a suburb of Shanghai.