theleavingscene:

ADAM STRÖMSTEDT - FEEL [127bpm]

I forgot that I live for this shit.

I forgot that the movement, the virtue, the soul of house music is bigger than the mediocrity, the routine, the fear of everyday life.

Give me repetition. Give me build up. Give me vibration.

Give me meaning.

I just don’t care. Don’t give a fuck about anything but this.

This shit right here. 

The first release on Junkyard Connections exemplifies those sentiments. Adam Strömstedt’s B-side is a gorgeous, uplifting, deeply felt house track. It’s one that reminds you where you came from, why you’re still listening, and why you can’t imagine life without.

I really can’t believe this hasn’t sold out yet. A limited pressing of 250 made by people who understand the art of DIY music. Copies are still available here, and if you never want to lose touch again, you’ll follow Junkyard Connections and Adam Strömstedt. Check out their second release by Hannes Netzell, which was featured here a few months back. And, as always: 

.::do:work.show:love::.

Swallowed by a whale — a true tale?

youmightfindyourself:

If, I’ll pretend for a moment, you were swallowed, it would happen like this: You would first be chewed.  Sperm whales’ teeth are 8 inches long – longer than most blades in your knife drawer. Then you would be gulped to the fauces, the back of the mouth, and forced down. Here is where Bartley apparently touched the quivering sides of the throat. You would also touch the throat, perhaps claw at the sides of the throat like you would sliding down an icy slope. There would be no air, and you’d suffocate in acid and water, but, we’re saying, you somehow survive. Imagine a black and mucous-smothered tube sock slipping over you.

You would then enter the first stomach, coined by 19thcentury naturalist Thomas Beale as the holding bag. It’s lined with thick, soft and white cuticle. At 7 feet long by 3 feet wide and shaped like a big egg, the first stomach would easily fit you. If you were kept in the holding bag for over 24 hours, you would likely be joined by squid, but a coconut or shark might come, too. Most squid that sperm whales swallow are bioluminescent — the neon flying squid is a favorite. So in no time at all you’d be bathing in a pool of phosphorescence, a slew of green-yellow light winking around you like you were standing in a field in Maine come July when all the fireflies are sparking up. The rest would be black, very black.

As the stomach acids broke you down, you would continue through three smaller stomachs — a chain of membranous, acid-filled cavities. The second stomach is S-shaped, and the third is more like the first, only smaller. Then, liquidated, you would ooze into the intestine, and eventually leave the whale as excrement, floating out of the anus and into the cold deep ocean, dissolving still further until you had become so small as debris that you were indistinguishable from the ocean itself. You would lap against whaling ships looking for whales.

The only part of you that might not be digested would be your bones. Squid beaks, equally, aren’t digested — they pass through the sperm whale’s intestines wholly. Along the way, the beaks scrape the intestinal lining, creating scar tissue, which is then passed in its new form, ambergris — the intoxicating, aromatic substance used in the most potent perfumes that was worth, in 1869, $97.50 per pound.  That’s $1,600 per pound today. The Egyptians burned it as incense. Your sharp fingerbones or splintery skull would rub on the whale’s intestinal lining, and your remains would scrape up the most beautiful smell on earth.

(via jesuisperdu)