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The Art of Being Pulled Apart

by Jellyfish Brigade

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The Art of Being Pulled Apart Spirits near the river by the salamander’s home Far from the hustle on an alabaster throne Heart is in New York, she says I’d hate the city I try to make her hate it to just to make her miss me Mind is in the cavern anxious that the end is near Every turn I take’s the darkest place I’ve been in years Body’s in the sun, pitted stomach, open arms Empty chest, blank stare, It’s the art of being pulled apart A shell of myself in the nebulous haze The beauty is gone and the memories fade I’d rather be down then as numb as I’ve been Longing to long for something again (x2) Last I recall I was trading I love you’s, deep in the woods while naming the mushrooms Head with a clear view, right and assertive, body with a bounce that would fight the inertia But then it untied, flesh from the mind, heart and soul found it better to divide Tried to hang back and weather the goodbyes, but that shit don’t heal with the medicine of time Stretching thin, spread my limbs slipping with the grip on the tug of war Emptyness, full of it, I’m a quarter of the man that I was before Damn damn buck up Luc, can’t be so detached and severed The art in being pulled apart is how we pull it back together My homey’s on that Mayan, many lives I once was And I left that sacred part of me by the Columbia Wanted to keep it pure, on a peaceful piece of earth Where creatures stir, with no idea when we’ll reconvene and merge What an awful thing to put it through Separate it from the throbbing heart that’s posted on a Brooklyn roof, Her moving towards a bigger shiny city life of living Makes the gap between us seem like twice the distance I become a hopeless slave to skittish thought and reason Spiral down at the rate of the Fibonacci sequence Dome’s eerie and blackened with walls of fossils Easy to get trapped in the Cask of Amontillado Which leads us to the body, now routine and robotic That’s been breathing in toxins and sipping drinks from the goblet Anything to pry a feeling up out of the chasm in my stomach’s pit But this was all necessary wasn’t it Absolutely. Now prepare the reassembling Calling out to coax the spirit from the evergreens Blow a kiss to shorty, say farewell and set us free Someday time’ll throw its dirty prints on all our memories My people’s offer perspective to put my fretting head at ease Suddenly the energy runs through my extremities Everything is everything, the changes let us see The art of being pulled apart has forged a better me
The Character is Me I remember sitting on the roof top Theorizing til my head was sore Climbing over fallen tree limbs checking What the Mississippi swept ashore A young whippersnapper on a street Corner hollering we gotta end the war Now I be, this character is me A bit of all of the things I’ve been before Skinned knee shorty with a coffee can Hunting slimy creatures in the mud and the dirt For what it’s worth I let ‘em go at the request of ma dukes Almost caught a snake once, last second I got spooked Slithering, shaky, I stay fidgetin Use to pier jump into polluted Lake Michigan Now, I’m hanging off a bridge 40 feet higher Above a the murky water, shit I thought I’d be wiser, nah Tiddlywinks and newspaper tug boats At 27 I be singing all my love notes I’ve been afraid of rejection since back in the day Prolly why I didn’t ask her to stay I quit smoking and then, I started smoking again I gotta find a different way to learn to cope with the bends Extend a hand to foe, bumping folk tunes and wu tang Lost my hops but still got a nasty hoop game A minimalist preaching to you that less is more A screen porch dweller soaking up the thunderstorms A romantic with bleeding heart ripped and torn A late nighter feeling hungover every morn A deity, and a downer and a friend of yours Now I be, the character is me I think that I’ve learned the simplest things last Every situation aint a riddle or ink splat As a teacher I can spot the shittiest mishaps And know just what to say to make a miserable kid laugh A warrior. A worrier. Performing like a Mourning bird chirping to the chords of a Wurlitzer Shifting from power to paranoia like Greek Gods Waxing on the dreams caught and glory that we’ve lost But I’ve yet to live my better years I still need to see the stars from the southern hemisphere Author stories and compile a thick book Spend the summer dawns pulling trout off a fish hook Look, I get caught up in comparisons Have accomplishment amnesia and forget bout where I’ve been But the triumphs, melancholy and barriers I’ve breached Form a fine collage and that character is me I am just a drop of rain Falling to the quiet stream The growing rivulet that’ll Wash it all away, wash it all away I am just a grain of sand Seated by the ocean blue On the golden beach that Sprawls across the way, sprawls across the way I am just a single brick In a wall that towers high The edifice that you can See from far away, see far away I am just a lonely star Burning in a crowded sky On the night that stunned the world All across the way, all across the way
The Salmon’s Journey Home The dusk will be upon us, caught in the autumn cold And I won’t be hollering for anything to save my soul Don’t matter what I pray to, Don’t matter what I know Whether I fight or flight, I’m gonna make that journey home I’m on my grind Until my time But I’m letting go Of what I can’t control Through the euphoria and the animosity I’m constantly reminded I am man and not machine That’s why I bellow out a banshee rocking scream In the jagged canyon bottom by the salmon flopping stream I mean, I’m from the school of deuces to excuses my love Where the masters view the beauty in the sewage and mud That naked honesty is usually how I do what I does And make it so they tell the truth up in my eulogy (uh) The dusk will be upon us, caught in the autumn cold And I won’t be hollering for anything to save my soul Don’t matter what I pray to, Don’t matter what I know Whether I fight or flight, I’m gonna make that journey home I’m on my grind Until my time But I’m letting go Of what I can’t control The darkness plays its magic tricks and makes the panic waken I swore I saw some gnashing fangs upon the shadow’s faces Come to find it was a product of my imagination What was certain doom was just a couple branches shaken Really, I mean? Silliest me. From frightened and freaked to chill in the breeze Wishing the prettiest missy I missed was sharing my pillow and still in my sheets But I wouldn’t trade it, it’s part of the trip, survival of fittest, Darwinistic I vibe with the mystic, no harbinger tip yeah I’m riding this mission as far as I get Moons ago I watched the salmon spawning in a still creek The torn remains of those who passed were rotting fresh and filthy The handful left were idle with their tired bodies wilting This journey that I’ve loved to live will prolly be what kills me


The Art of Being Pulled Apart is a short story about the heart, mind, body and soul drifting in separate directions and how we must inevitably pull our different selves back together. By intertwining tales from the river, love notes from distant cities, and fears of the unknown, we created a project that explores the breakdown process and the beauty in getting a chance to reassemble one’s self after a life changing experience. This collection of songs is influenced as much by campfire folk tunes and early 90’s R&B as it is story telling hip hop and melodic electronic beats. Its setting is somewhere in the Columbia River Gorge on a highway during a Sunday evening sunset. It touches on recognizing each person’s individuality while also realizing our tiny place in the collective. It jovially compares our fate to that of the salmon, who spend the autumn traveling back home to their demise. I guess, in short, we make honest, heartfelt songs about love, life and nature, all of which we enjoy deeply.


released December 6, 2012

Vocals: Lucas Dix
Production: Jeffrey Acciaioli aka The Great Mundane

Mixing/Mastering: Chris Green
Illustrations: Jason Graham
Art Design: Ryan Robers

"The Character is Me" is a remix of Spinundrum's "Character is Me"


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Jellyfish Brigade Portland, Oregon

Machines and the Gods


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