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5 ways to get you out of bed in 10 seconds or less!

Struggling to get up early – before 1, or at least 4…

No, not A.M. – P.M,. like in the afternoon. I decided to try my hand on making a list, on that – how to get you out of bed.

Music I listened to: Anatomy Of A Murder, Duke Ellington.

1. Sleep rough during winter outside a nightclub at sunrise to unleash the drunken agonized young men who didn’t get any that night. They will kick you in the face and send you off running, wide awake, ready to work as a social media content moderator.

2. Develop a suitable addiction so that craving – this your most accountable partner – can manifest and wake you up at the darkest hour, just before dawn, to work your rock ‘n roll moves, twist and jerk until you can get your hit and slide off surfing to work as a social media content moderator.

3. Move to a country bordering on you-know-what and you’ll be woken up by rocket fire or shady characters rummaging your living room for teacups to fill with radioactive substances, doorknobs to smear with nerve toxins, or children to viciously torture for a splash in the media. Wide awake, terrified, in shock, and perfectly alert, you’ll rush screaming to your job as a social media content moderator.

4. If you have arthritis in your spine, go to a coffee shop in a major city and strike up conversation with a 30-something mentioning meditation and they will immediately say “You should try Yoga!”. Get that info and try those poses just before you go to bed. Then you’ll be sure to wake up before the devil itself in excruciating pain, just able to crawl across your cold (easy to clean) dirty tiled stone floor to reach your emergency stash of ultra-strong painkillers stored from your last trip to the surgery, eat them raw in a cold sweat, chewing on the dust, and find yourself wide awake, head spinning on a needle, ready to dash off to work as a social media content moderator.

5. You’ll be fired, then called back to work for some lunatic who runs a site called Twat, Twatter, Tit – or whatever, allowing you to destroy the planet by trolling unstable masses of immature maniacs. You won’t be allowed to sleep while working on the collective suicide of humanity, so there’s no need to wake up, or—for that matter—see any urgency to get to work, ever again, as a social media content moderator.

Under the Moon at night

… so I played sax in between the trees on a small hill in the moonlight this night at 2.12 AM in a mostly deserted parc in Paris …

Colonial time view on Africa has got to stop

Projects ‘helping Africa’ with patronising air dropped rice and powdered milk is an european faux pas.

We need mutual respect, open borders and trade; this is long overdue.

I’m african.

I’m migrating.

I’m honest.

Soy gitano.

Brief note on sound composing and history

Some who may find their way into the work “Te quiero” may wonder about the title, the design of sound, the languages and so on.

It is not quite what it maybe looks like.

Let us take two examples:

In the begining you hear an answering machine.

However, every sound put in there was written down and then ‘performed’ from a score. ‘Beeps’ are not ‘beeps’ but someone whistling and so on.

Towards the end you hear what many will consider a foolish movie cliche: thunder.

However, there is no thunder. 

That sound does not at all originate from recordings of thunder. 

It is not from a ‘sample effect library’ nor is it from a field trip with funny hats recording hurricanes or whatever.

What it is is sound from a piano string manipulated with filters and distorted, composed from the material in ‘the movie.’

In fact all is contemplated like this. As a painting by Leonardo, a technique of meticulous drawing up from scratch on canvas: a vision so that in the end it may look like a ‘banale photo.’

Favourite Quotes on Facebook

“I have spend more time deleting Facebook profiles than I had ever spend creating them… and I didn’t even succeed in getting rid of it.
It gave me constipation, needing medical attention.
I literally had to dig out a massive fat shit of my own ass – hours and hours of digging finally exploded it out on the toilet floor in a bloody mess missing the can with about half a meter (that is if you want all the gory details).
This experience, the global madness, exposed and amplified, gravely reduced my feeling of security in this world.
It is painful.
It is a true story.
Someday it will be Mother Earth.
It is severe opinion constipation.
And it suck.” – Pollyfiks.
Paris, Texas. 23 July 2021. (c)(p)(r) Earth Art Collective.

Old secrets

J. S. Bach wrote between 1000 and 10.000 compositions. His secret was that he didn’t use a computer…

I am, but not on Facebook.

I am not on Facebook.

It is not because I don’t like you.

It is just that I don’t want to be on social media any more.

However it can happen you stumble on me briefly there.

But that rare event only occur when I have to create a temporary profile in order to send a mail to someone who do not respond to other means of communication.

So please do not get offended if I add you and then remove you again once done communicating, or if I don’t add you or respond to friend-add requests.

It is childish to consider friendships as being defined by whether or not a picture of us are connected on some multinational company’s social web concept thing. If we are friends in reality then we are friends, no matter what, obviously!

So send me an email instead, or call me and yell at me if needed.

My email is here: nyvang.com/pose. My phone number obtainable.

This is not a poem.

Why do we have to tell these things?

Life.

Life, what it is? It is what dreams are made of.

Too too.

There are too many, too few and it is, in general, too much or too little.

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