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Miscellonia: a Compendium of Refuse, Volume Three

by Hussalonia

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1.
2.
I don’t know much, but I know how to suffer. The evening trees take a limb, break a bough. I search for art in the face of every stranger ‘cause I think I finally understand it now. The quest for truth leads me to another love song. I’m holding out for something less defined. I know I’m lost but I’m okay with my location Oh well, whatever, nevermind. Listen, listen to me - sang the prophet Buddy Holly So I listened hard and I listened carefully, but songs are just songs, not skeleton keys. Every time a door abruptly closes another fool appears to offer you cliches. The spiral spins and my eyes, they grow heavy. I wonder how I ever ended up this way.
3.
I've been here before. I can't go away. Don't ask me to stay. There goes another me, close enough but not exactly. Nothing's permanent, I know. I'm just here to fulfill a role. There's no such thing as birth if everything comes from Earth.
4.
Go get 'em tiger. You can do anything. I am the cosmos, A palindromic substring. Why can't I be a bit more like my Bitmoji? Help me override all of my programming. Am I not the central character? Is not the customer king? Why can't I be a bit more like my Bitmoji? Put my best foot backwards and pray for cold fusion This message is brought to you by my best delusions. I'm just waiting for my O'Henry ending. Why can't I be a bit more like my Bitmoji?
5.
I'm eating off the faces of licensed characters printed on paper plates. This is only a test, I say, or maybe the best display of privileged fates. I guess there's no accounting for taste, or behavior, or desire, or allegiance, or judgment, or belief. I'm just a bronze meddler, a pusher and a peddler of narrative relief. There's something here, I know, but I'm just not seeing it, or I am and it's not what I think it is. Someone asks me if I work here, and I don't, but it clearly looks like I do. So what if I did? I suppose, I mean, why should I feel slighted by an honest mistake? I'm just a bronze meddler, a pusher and a peddler of memory and heartache. All things true are sometimes false, and things false are sometimes true. How am I to ever know what to do?
6.
Like and subscribe and click for notifications. Hashtag your selfies and leave us a review. Oh, “de doo ron ron.” Clip and save this coupon. Shop more, eat more, create more content. Will you allow for pointless activity? No points earned in the point economy. Something unrewarded and unobserved. School is a place where instead of learning, kids are too busy earning stars and points, letter grades. And who profits from the time I spend? I thought time never ends. Let it be, time, be free. 'Cause sometimes I feel like everything’s a waste of time, and sometimes I feel like time exists to waste. But what motivates me when I feel like I should document my every move, every thought, every moment spent and bought? Will I allow for pointless activity? No points earned in the point economy. Something unrewarded and unobserved.
7.
Forget about the answer key, let me diagram my misery. You see, it all starts here and never goes anywhere. Measure the months, weigh the options, maybe I could I use a new coat of paint, or a walk in someone else’s shoes. A solo eclipse, a bad blood moon. I see I’ve written myself into a corner. The accidental actor to the fugitive foreigner. Reliable liars and serial killers. Houston, I have a problem. I’m living in a world that’s trying to kill me. I’ve an appetitite for instruction. Show me how to use my time. I acknowledge that I created this place, and I’m content to stomp around its floors, bang my head and ask for more.
8.
Close enough is perfect. Good enough is grand. Baby, what’ll we do? When we think we’re through? I’m living all alone in my mind. You think I think too loud? But I’m just the quiet kind. There's always someone who will fall in love with the easy and boring you. Beauty is in the eye of the beholden. It’s ugly but it’s true. If I could only stop being so ordinary. I want to be May, but I’m January One life is too short to do anything.
9.
Suffering is compulsory! Your satisfaction is not guaranteed. Every winner banks your loss, and every Jesus needs a cross. Count your nails! Justice, safety, security: we just can't give this stuff away!
10.
Lorum Ipsum 01:45
Lorum Ipsum dolor sit. Lorum Ipsum dolor sit. Con sec tetur adip iscing elit, sed do tempor. Labore et dolore magna aliqua, sed do conor. Lorum Ipsum dolor sit. Lorum Ipsum dolor sit. Ut enim ad minim ven iam nostrud. Sunt in culpa qi dolor nulla pari ratur.
11.
When I look at old photographs Lead by neon lights of the past All Those Faces I just want to bash them all in No, I'm not well Don't ask, don't tell So stuck feeling terrible Ignore everything All the time, everywhere I'd like to say this to your face Sadness is an acquired taste And I learned to love it Thank you so for your kind words They mean so much to me and how But I'd really rather be miserable right now I'd like to say this to your face Sadness is an acquired taste And I learned to love it
12.
Oh, pretty pretty pathogen please, this patient's fallen for the disease. And if it sounds like shit, well, the shit must be real. I just want you to know just how much like shit I feel. I want to wrap my legs around the world, a messy metaphor for sure. Kitchen sink forever sunk, I better through this thunk. Oh, pretty pretty please, this dog has grown fond of scratching fleas. And if it sounds like shit, well, the shit must be real. I just want you to know just how much like shit I feel.
13.
If you want to be taken seriously, you've got to write a lot of songs in minor keys. I never cared much for this boring sound, but no one wants to sleep with the class clown.
14.
15.
We asked for a truth that cannot be disputed. Instead, they gave us a downloadable gun. Kids imitating adults imitating kids. Under the influencing of persuasive guessing. The figment chyron running the unicorn race. The proof is in the proving. The movement's in the moving. I seem only to find truth in our most effective fictions.
16.
Suffering 01:22
No one cares if you're suffering, unless they're inconvenienced by your suffering, or have yet to be inconvenienced by your suffering. No cares if you're suffering unless they're paid to care about your suffering, or benefit from your suffering, or outed for not caring about your suffering
17.
11:58 01:00
I know you fail to believe that I'm a passing fad, taking inventory of all I almost had. I may be cracking up. Call it my tragic fault, but I'll take crimson and clover and reduce it to salt. Let's get close. Let's get well nigh there. Let's lose and pretend that we didn't care. I may be running out of time, but at least I'm not late. Tonight I'm going to party like it's 11:58.
18.
Let me take a moment to observe just how devastated I would be if I lost you. I would be a shattered window. The rest of my life would be squandered. I wouldn't be myself without you.
19.
I may not always want to know you, but I will always love you. Ornery for the ornate. I'm looking for something I can't locate. I don't want to argue. I don't want to fight. You're looking so much better in hindsight. Oh, violin. Oh, violate. Vie for my attention. Oh, vibrate. Note for note, I can feel you pulsate. I'm barely protected by my breastplate. I may not always want to acknowledge you, but I will always love you.
20.
You're all the man that I need. I'm fallen, falling asleep. You can you keep your first-person shooters. You can keep your rancid meat. We all need a little more woman, a little more egg, a little less seed. We've got all the man that we need.
21.
A fact of little consequence. A figure slung in self-defense. Listen to the books lying on the shelf, and quietly compose yourself. Give me this or give me that. A feather in your tinfoil hat. Only the heart is privy to its folly. Where’s all the time we need to explain? Lead us not off the payroll. Deliver us from self control. Wishing you kept what you couldn’t keep, from doctrines born in twilight sleep. Twenty-first century editions. Is this my life or yours? You say, how did you get in here? I say, through the front door. Only the heart is privy to its folly. Where’s all the time we need to explain?
22.
The cell phone says goodbye The ATM sells hello The self checkout asks how you want to pay The plastic bag says have a nice day Please listen carefully. for our menu options have changed. I haven’t spoken to anyone in days, but I like to think that I’m not alone. I’m so backed up in my queue. So much in my inbox I’ve yet to go through. I’m not so sure I’ve got any time for you. I like to think that I’m not alone.
23.
Dear faculty and staff, I’m speaking on behalf of my curriculum. So, where do I begin? I’m not sure I want to win what the West has won. I’ve spoken to Neptune and mermaids. We march in the parades. Our work is never done. And the wolves, oh, the wolves they all agree, For every story belonging to me as good belongs to you. Please don’t get me wrong, I like everyone here and I wish you all could join me. I’m the underweight contender, the last one to surrender, oh yes, I’m the great pretender. Dear faculty and staff, I’m speaking on behalf of my crumbling wits. [solo] I am the black hole from which you won’t return. I’m the sum of all there is to learn. I’m the bluest eye, the catcher in the rye, the most the truthful lie.
24.
The past, it terrifies me. I owe everybody apologies for everything. Everyone makes mistakes. I make catastrophe. How long before they find me? Tell me what you know. Describe myself to me. Guide me through what I can’t see. We were friends in another life, one that I’d rather forget. It’s been so long since I’ve heard your laugh. Somehow, still, I consider you a friend.
25.
26.
Forever is a dreadful place, a bottomless pit in which to fall. Forever is a dreadful place, where everything means nothing at all. Forever is a dreadful place, where time no longer has meaning. Forever is a dreadful place, where history just keeps on repeating. Ephemeral and fleeting, we cling to life’s threadbare hem. Ephemeral and fleeting, but thank god it finally ends. Forever is a dreadful place, of suffering unforeseen Forever is a dreadful place, of tedium and routine. Forever is a dreadful place, I’m thankful I’m only passing through. Forever is a dreadful place, but I’d go there if you wanted me to.
27.
When the animals get lonely, they’ll invent a new language. They’ll speak it sad and slowly. It’ll sound like a string section. Chimneys, statues and wires. It doesn’t make a difference. If both your wings are tired, you’ll perch on anything. That’s the truth enough. Isn’t living strange? We’re drawn to other people’s pain. Lost in a supermarket. Sitting in the back of a car. Solipsistic soundtrack-ism Realistic reproduction. That’s the truth enough. Isn’t living strange? We’re drawn to other people’s pain. So tell me wherefore does it hurt in some vague place beneath your shirt? You can drag me down an alley. You can push me off a cliff. You can put me in a love song, but you better make it count. That’s the truth enough. Isn’t living strange? We’re drawn to other people’s pain.
28.
Is that candy or pink insulation? Is that a rabbit or a plastic bag? Are those diamonds or just broken glass? Isn’t it wonderful that I have to ask? Every melody is just “Moonglow” to me. Skate shot sparks and skylarking. C and C Music Factory, give me a job. Give me a job. I work efficiently. I’ve got a master’s degree. Give me a job. Give me a job. What’s all that thread on your head? What are those white stones in your mouth? Everything is just so embarrassing, having to ask what’s it all about. The motifs and the themes, the illogical dreams. Time is not on my side; it’s on my back. C and C Music Factory, give me a job. Give me a job. I swear, I'll file; I'll clean; I'll use the fax machine. Just give me a job. Give me a job.
29.
If this were rain, I’d go inside. If this were beast, I’d run and hide. I can make up a story, but I can’t lose the past. Run from my problems, but just how long can that last? You say I buy so many records ‘cause I’m lonely. I’m keeping time under my thumb. Set adrift by some insipid hit. I know I’m okay ‘cause it hurts. Love is ultimately defined by the pain we feel when it’s lost. Everything you make will eventually belong to someone else. Still, nothing is ever created or destroyed. You thought I was aimless. Well, you were wrong. I know what I want, it’s just impossible. Tell me that I’m not alone, then leave me alone. Let me prove how sick I am. Love is ultimately defined by the pain we feel when it’s lost.
30.
All our language and limitations It serves us well. You can just say the word and forecast the spell. Even chaos agents sing the serenity prayer, knockin’ on heaven’s door saying, hello, are you there? It’s good weather on a canceled event. They said god’s on our side. We just don’t where he went. What’s a shaman to do when there’s no one left to save and nothing left to fix? The sins of our fathers will never be absolved. We’re not dealing with a riddle that’s just begging to be solved. We’ve got visions of the future from the past to reassure us that nothing’s gonna last. All our language and limitations It serves us well. You can just say the word.
31.
The tragedy is ironic. The comedy is cruel. Can you quiet my doubts? Can you help me love what’s left of the world? Life and death are concurrent events taking place under the watchful but selectively forgetful eye of memory. To be sick is to survive the airborne illness of being alive. Give me a problem I’m equipped to solve, or I’ll create one myself just to feel the intoxicating thrill of control. Don’t believe your ears. Don’t trust your eyes, but know that we can collapse the wave function simply through observation. Foolish naïveté, crushing despair. If I’m not here, I’m likely there. They lied when they said the future was ours.
32.
I’m thinking of a place no one’s ever been. Lose a little faith. Find your way again. Go on and guess. It is all meaningless. I’ve just seen a face no one’s ever seen. Gone without a trace. Withdrawn from memory. You live and learn then don’t return. But I do. I believe in you. I do. Can you believe in me, too? I’m writing another song no one may ever hear. Tell me, careful moon, and kindly disappear. The recklessness of faith, our very own to misplace ‘Cause I do. I believe in you. I do. Can you believe in me, too? Three minutes longer. Just give me three minutes longer.
33.
I court disaster. I court ruin. Sweep me off my feet; here’s the broom. I’m a fool. I’m a fool. Unravel me; here’s the spool. This is the pain that I thought had left me alone. Standing outside the club I refused to join. Drowned in the fountain, retrieving my coin. I court disaster. I court ruin. Finish me off; here’s the spoon. I’m adrift. I’m adrift. Love me to death; here’s the kiss. This is the pain that I thought had left me alone.
34.
No one will care if you don’t fit in. No one will care if you’re alone. We’re no one. That’s all. We’re no one. That’s us. Twice more ears than voices. Still, not everyone heard. Find me in a song. Find me in a book. Under-appreciated and overlooked. We’re no one. That’s all. We’re no one. That’s us. Listen to us. Listen to us. Listen to no one. No one feels as awful as you feel tonight. Throw your arms around the future and hold on tight. They’ll take their knives and they’ll encircle you, drawing conclusive deductions. The moral mark of sermonists, drawing blood to fill their cups. They’ll say “Listen to us. Listen to us. Listen to us.” But you listen to no one.
35.
I don’t want to live. I want to flourish. Not well fed and malnourished. You say, “you’re not dead, but only sick with doubt. So what’s there to complain about?” Give me freedom from your freedom. Our cells have been built from gratitude and guilt. The magnetic coil. The mortal desire for fulfillment and fire. We can settle for less and less and less. The dance of doomed decisions, deaf to idealistic rhythms. We lost the majestic milky way to keep our parking lots safe. Losing water, losing air, losing our minds, our time, our way. We can settle for less and less and less.

about

The Hussalonia Founder will follow the muse blindly only to sometimes find that the muse is fickle or wont to wander into dead ends. This third edition of Miscellonia begins with several batches of songs that were intended for thematically-linked projects. Somehow, momentum got lost and The Founder wandered onto other paths. It’s now safe to say that these songs are abandoned.

The final act of Miscellonia Volume Three contains demos from HUSSALONIA FEELS BAD, CATTON CONDY, and NONDUM IN AUGE. The Founder only records demos when working with other musicians, and here, The Founder felt a certain fondness for the rough-hewn honesty of these demos. There were plans to flesh the demos out and create a proper acoustic album, but one life simply isn’t long enough to see all our plans through. At this writing, The Hussalonia Founder has four albums of new material in various stages of completion, so it was decided to leave all of this before you as it stands.

— Dolores DeCabeza, Head of Nefarico™ Public Relations

credits

released December 28, 2022

© 2022 BMI
All tracks written, performed, and produced by The Hussalonia Founder except track 13 features Rob Lynch on drums, Jonathan Hughes on bass, and Joe Rozler on keyboards.

Cover photo CC by Manuel W. on flickr.
www.flickr.com/photos/manwhoyells/

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Hussalonia Buffalo, New York

Hussalonia is largely the work of a multi-instrumentalist known only as The Hussalonia Founder.

Founded in 1997, Hussalonia is a "pop music cult" and claims to be owned by Nefarico™, a fictional soap company.

The Hussalonia Founder lives and works in Buffalo, New York.
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