Check Out Lightness / Earlier Demos by Ptr & th Wlf

trip west post-breakup
sobering self-medication
now an apology not then known
back when we exposed criminals
time flowed
maybe u freed a small-towner here or there
one has its moments

(click image above to purchase lightness, experiments in junk, or the original self-titled 4-track recordings of peter and the wolf)

Purchase The Ivori Palms: Dreams of a Warehouse Castaway

14 songs from warehouse-squatting expat phase of redding hunter 3 summers ago

this time, story's pretty much embedded: some joe, broke despite more-than-fair reviews for 1st album ('cuz o' constant cavorting w/crooked characters) escapes usa w/last 300 bucks to an el dorado of ample warehouse-squatting opportunities in tinytown toronto, where ross-wearing mellowbodies float non-aggressively thru you'd-forget streets. in this oatmeal city he rediscovers the sexuality of mediocre sidewalk banjos, learns old trade of lunch-buskers, and ultimately returns post love affair to find no temporarly lover can hold a candle... maybe never shakes that love, maybe never should.

Order Mellow Owl CD - Hand-Drawn Discs

last summer redding hunter hung out too long in cabins by himself, or when he was lucky, with his gal... dude went a little nuts went she left to travel... dude journeyed into his own lazy abyss, grew strange plants in the backyard... this cd is an aural journal of those summer days in the hills, the haunting dreams nobody can medicate away, and the memories both ecstatic and hellish that only cabin life will elucidate.

Traffique's Endless Weekend Mixtape

PREVIEW / PURCHASE NEW ALBUM ON iTUNES:

or

Purchase Hand-Made CD via Paypal:

preview songs from the new album: Traffique's Myspace

our endless nightlife, some bricklayer's inner femme voxtastic, the battle for gayrights at a time when nonviolent rhetoric / impotent protest disgrace f. hampton legend, our enlightened leaders coddle-campaigning dumbly rightward toward lame silent militaries and weird rightblah-heterowifeness. here is traffique, secretary bride of prematurely retired novelists, ranting word-consumed virgin librarian, 90-hour workweek asexual mathdork closet toblerone-addict... hear her odd vibrations let loose in afterhours alleyways, constantly daring drunks to dial... deathbored by our predictable sexuality, lost in fertile broccoli hair-mazes... hers is the setting-fire to long-repressed homebody journalpage. hers is the plight of secret prostitution historian, of secret hallucinogen authority... introducing the muse of st. julian the hospitaler, our trannysylvanian french-ticklette, our 63 gretsch corvette-weilding tootsie, yawning her way into a necessary fight, elected by putrid sighs of 100 million apathetic freedom-fighters-in-bed to battle them near-extinct homophobe moronosaurs.