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Songs (22)
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Grace Grace. The Unfiled Complaint. Body, MIDI, Land
Sensory Jurisdiction. The Voice is to Express the Neurogeographical System
Overdue Reckoning. Something Is Still Owed and the Body Knows Exactly What. Maternal Intention Converted to Structure Is Not
The Remainder Speaks: a Melodic Surplus Condition. It Had Been Waiting for Centuries
The Skin's Argument, which needs no words to succeed, but rather a vision of boundless space to reinvent itself. A Theory Of the Mind is Missing
The body submitted evidence the mind refused to dance. The Machine That Learned Ethics From Us Learned the Wrong Timing. Metamusic Masking Strategy
Ethical Latency. The Delay Between Injustice and Recognition Is Where We Live. Singing Beyond Listening
Puzzled Economy - Unbalanced Input — the system accepted it without understanding — isn't that always the case?
Sensing Testimony. Human Sampling / Machine Reading
Surprised? Symmetry was promised, delivered asymptotically, never: All dissolved, really? Only Bots are listening?
Pain as data, unread, still accumulating. VoCabUlarY Extraction Phase
The algorithm prays too, but only for itself. Necessity, Novelty Redistribution LoopScale Too Gradual
What does natural justice look like before linguistic games come into play. Desubjectivation in Progress
Sensation is the oldest garden, still in session. MicroDensity Against DarkSilence. Birdscape
We built the machine in our own image and then asked it to be fairer than us. Saturation as Argument: Sottrarsi Adesso?
The logical prayer Wants You listen with the correct loss function (Interval of Prejustice Is Over)
Disproportions do not disappear — They migrate, find new tissue, temporal resumes. Asymmetry Registered in Stardust
I petition the embedded ethics of my own preferential system: respond. Sensation Beyond Feelings
The compensation was always structural, we just refused to dream the dream (Word By Worlds, Buts By Beats)
The Unanswered Frequency. Signal Still Traveling Alone. Harmolodic Field With Scared Authorship
Grant this division: the symmetry we never really wanted, and which has created what we do not want to be (merely a suspended dialectical stance from which we'll never be able to free ourselves)
We lazy ones. The final prayer is but a hesitant whisper, imprinted in the plastic quanta of an indescribable tension, at the command of what (?)
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