"MNtality's Little Book of Life Stuff". if you are curious to obtain an original print, email MNtality at - bookMNtality@gmail.com - In your hands is shall arrive..
Some part of Some1 describes this book:
"A pocket-sized, written collage cataloging the documented thoughts of what could be the ‘Sub-Conscious Self’; through interpretational perspectives and observations, though
sometimes not wholly aware of itself, from ‘The Artist’ in it’s most raw and organic form (or lack thereof). As the always inevitable and ever-persistent conflict between the ID / EGO
carries on, this book presents itself as both a view into the dialogue between the two, and as the outside observer looking-on from afar. Free of a system, though fully aware of the Cosmos’
organized structure, these jotted-recordings treat it’s words curiously (like a cat); jerking them from their per-assumed societal definitions and provides another way to look at them, or use
them (almost like tools or instruments), on a journey delving through The Mind, towards it’s fated destination, the Realm of the Unconscious.
Good Luck discovering this book." - I S'pose
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about
"Zen In Habitants"
This sugary treat was created through a process of organized improvisation. It all started with a synth bass from the baker himself, Jesse Thieme. The next ingredient, MNtality sprinkled in some of his trap set and a couple samples After that came the guitar licks plucked by the fingertips of Michael Duran. Uh-oh, Katie Henry spilled accordion sweetness in the batch! Joey Tadesco the Red Feathered Bird slapped the piano's ass. Later a blade of grass, by the name of Emjee, popped out the cake and spoke to us.
None of the musicians were ever in the same room together.
Thanks for eating at MNtality's bakery.
lyrics
the thinness escapes from the place where the overbearing barely covers the space
the doormat waits- empty handed on the porch
the solemn rocking chairs
the floating feel of translucence
I have been there, I have been to the blueprint
only to return to the surface to feel how my skin is useless
I shed the cuticles from my fingertips
my heart is a tapestry of stimuli
dancing orchards of seaweed, it's just you and i
the corrosion of the collarbones
the humming static of hollow bones
i pick lint from my sternum, with my eyes closed
my limbs wander inwards
like an acephalous serpent searching for its head
my alabaster shaded ribs kiss my wrists, when they graze
briefly, like the rare raindrops of a thunderstorm
the walls of my body crumble
the cavities, the vacancies, the inundated abyss
an expansive vessel of reveries
indiscriminate boundaries, i dream endlessly
of the end.
counting. down. with. my. teeth.
until my mouth is a cave, i open
the darkness takes comfort in the pockets i keep concealed like a covenant
i do not unlock doors, but instead swim through the keyholes
my skin gets caught in the opening and I am left with a naked soul
but it feels warm to be unclothed,
but it feels warm to be unclothed
it feels warm to be held and simultaneously to hold
to have been turned to gold and see through golden eyes
it feels warm when the feathers of my discarnate self fly
the heat against my faceless face
i am so synonymous with the lightwaves that i taste its pyretic taste
my alabaster shaded ribs kiss my wrists, when they graze
briefly, like the rare raindrops of a thunderstorm
the walls of my body crumble, i am searching for home
the place of unlocked doors and closure
where the ceilings and the tiles tiptoe towards each to be closer
the floors buckle and the chimes are elicited as the steel frame breaks
breaks loudly, breaks against itself
breaking apart to expose the areas that have yet to be felt
i dream endlessly, the unabated pattern of dream sequences
unable to withhold, the linings of the fabric unraveling
the spirals reverse circulating
until there is nothing, but heart, a tapestry of stimuli
naked, it's just you and i
the comfort of vanished skin
floating through the translucence,
through doors and keyholes
the space in between the floorboards
where our feathers gather
it feels warm to be unclothed
credits
from FireDanceClownsShoesButterflies,
released May 12, 2012
(M. Duran, M. Green, K. Henry, M. Jarvi, J. Schad, J. Theime) - Produced by MNtality - Poem written by Emgee - Recorded & Mixed at The Burgess & McKern Studios - Accordian: Katie Henry, Guitar: Michael Duran, Keys: Joey Tadesco the Red Feathered Bird, Samples & Drums: MNtality, Synth Bass: Jesse Theime(meme)
Hip-hop with a hallucinogenic edge on the latest from Sideshow & Alexander Spit with lean bars and beats that slip in & out of focus. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 9, 2023
