Atonal rhythmic noise.
Farming & Gardening
Rising Fawn, GA
Joined on 5/30/05
Posted by Quarl - May 9th, 2016
I uploaded a bunch of crummy Pico Day photos to facebook. Add me if you have any photos you want to contribute. There are a handful of artists I'll be individually contacting as I get around to it. I have a few sketch pad drawings too! I didn't manipulate any of the images though so the lighting is going to suck, there are blurry photos... classic idgaf.
Feel free to contact me for whatever reason. I've been busy watching cartoons and faving things by other artists since the office jam. I had a blast! Would love to hear from you if we talked at all or not at all otherwise :)
Posted by Quarl - May 1st, 2016
I'm an amateur. Around this time last year I was just making dumb noises with my mouth. I found a friend to practice and share techniques with sometime towards the end of last summer. I'm crutching along on a handful of techniques currently.
Lip rolls, zippers, lazers, throat bass, pf snares, tk tk's... there's definitely more in there but not every technique I learned required a tutorial video. There's one tech I refer to as a "cow bell" because I have no idea what everyone else calls it.
Some of the pros I've been watching include Skiller, krnfx, Napom, Pe4enkata, Two.H, Kaila, Thorsen, Alexinho... that list goes on and on but those specific artists held my attention for more than a handful of videos. On that note, Track IX had some great tutorials.
Maybe in the future I'll invest in a gopro and an xlr-to-usb cable to get better quality but for now this is just a hobby. Not sure where this hobby will take me but with the newgrounds office party a week away it feels nice to be able to say my creativity has some kind of outlet.
EDIT: I've decided to post links to some of those artists I just mentioned. Really cool artists in here...
NAPOM | Double American Beatbox Champion
SKILLER | Bulgarian Rhythms Of Passion
The Weeknd - The Hills (Beatbox Cover) by KRNFX
Pe4enkata from Bulgaria - Showcase - Beatbox Battle TV
SLIZZER VS ALEXINHO | SHOOTOUT BATTLE 2015 | FINAL
Posted by Quarl - April 24th, 2016
About a month ago I got fed up with a job and left in a fit of tears. Today I'm making up my own invoices for independent clients. I've gotten so fed up working for cunts that I've taken the first steps to forming my own company. I'm naming the business after my late mom's independent gardening company "A Country Rose."
Instead of hiring a baby sitter my mom used to take me out to job sites and put me to work planting beds of pachysandra. I don't have her experience and I really wish she was here for advice but I'm trying to focus less on negative thoughts like that. Gotta move forward, make progress.
I'm printing out a few invoices today. The rates are currently a little low but as things move forwards I hope to change that. Here's an invoice for a small job I'm working on. I made it in Gimpshop and mspaint:
Posted by Quarl - April 2nd, 2015
A Game To Remember
Jarryd was on his way to the annual Australian Chip Tune festival. He could feel the wind in his hair as it forced a smile from his somewhat impish yet still boyish features. It was a great day to be alive he thought to himself. He dismounted his Vespa and ejected the cassete for mobile enjoyment on his walkman at a later point. An avid collector of trash and technology long forgotten, he said to himself for the umptenth time, "They just don't make cassette players like they used to."
He tossed the cassette into his leather steampunk satchel, strapped it to his leg, and hobbeled off in a way that only a half-thought out fashion statement could produce. He didn't expect to pick up any chicks with the stroll he was currently displaying, but there was a certain fire in his eyes that only a fellow alternative music junky could truly understand. It was a fire that glistened in the heat of the day and made his shortcomings irrelevant. Today was a very special day.
He aproached a few of the venues at the festival over the next hour or so. There was time to kill before the big show. He had agreed to do a DJ set with a few other Aussie favorites. A lot of the names were familiar to him. There was Nintendrix from Melbourne who curiously decided to perform Jimi Hendrix-Nintendo mashups alongside an old court room stenotype. Echo Echo was a popular trans* DJ from the United States. But one name stood out more than any other: Midimachine, or as he's known by friends and family, Rohan.
The two had brushed shoulders a few times in the past. It might have been his imagination, but Jarryd had felt as if more than just shoulders had touched. It was like two seemingly complimentary spirits had glimpsed into the soul of the other. Jarryd hadn't voiced the true depth of his feelings out of fear, but today was going to be different.
He was carrying his lucky Memorex MB2059B Voice Recorder. Some of his best tunes were built off of the cheap lo-fi sounds that only second hand junk could faithfully produce. After all, he knew that any sound captured on it could later be compressed, distorted, amplified, and resampled. He wasn't after kicks, chirps, and blips though. He wanted a piece of Rohan's mind. He wanted voice samples that only love could produce. He was curious if Rohan sharred his feelings. He wondered if it was truely love or if it was just some odd fantasy he was chasing after.
Rohan slipped away from the crowd of the festival for a few minutes to regrease his hair. Crowds were never really his thing. He was kind of shy and just wanted a little space to breath. He had been aproached by a few girls minutes earlier and the experience had left him empty. As they tried to pique his interest with their impressive knowledge of former Neo Geo hits and Dreamcast trivia, Rohan only slipped further away into his moody anticipation. He knew Jarryd would be at the festival.
One year ago the two had met in a dark gay bar. Katy Perry was blarring on the monitors. It was another drag night with glitzy queens and sad stereotypes but the two boys had locked eyes, made conversation, and had left with a mutual feeling of suspense. It was as if the night was supposed to last forever but the time stamp signaled that the evening would end at midnight. It was a school night after all. Meanwhile half of the queens were still underage. As the manager hurried the patrons out of the saloon Rohan had felt his heart tear a little. Who was this Jarryd fellow and why did he wait all of Rohan's life to appear? They could have been family in a past life, so why were they so seemingly distant in this one?
Rohan's imagination twirled around inside of his head as his hair gel took various forms and shapes on the outside. Eventually Rohan decided that his hair looked "good enough", despite having no real progression from a sloppy mess into an even sloppier mess. It was fasionable and he had to admit to himself that it would just never look as good as it did in highschool. He pulled out a retro pocket Gameboy, zigg zagged his way through the hustle and bustle, and booted up a game of Tetris. His gaze would leave his screen every few seconds to affirm some kind of direction that wasn't leading him into a wall. It was an escape.
His perspective shifted. The people in Rohan's way became colorful falling blocks in a 2D plane. Suddenly he didn't need to focus. It was as if the world on his screen was sycnhed with his legs as he managed to narrowly avoid knocking over a cosplayer on stilts. His feet moved in rhythm to the game. Seeing a lucky break in the block pattern Rohan flipped his headphones over his ears and really started to get into a flow. The familiar Russian folk melody allowed Rohan to melt into the crowd. The difficulty increased and the tempo got faster. He could feel his heart racing as he neared his old high score. The rows of blocks steadily grew taller. Rohan began to sweat.
He walked straight into a wall. The gameboy cracked and his still tender heart began to fall apart. All was lost. Tears began to well up in his eyes. The memories he had of that device dated back to elementary school. Through the years, his friends had come and gone, but his Gamboy was his boyfriend for life. At that moment, as if the great Greek Gods of Mount Olympus commanded it, Rohan could hear a familiar voice sing into his ear.
"I have like three of those at home if you want one."
"Jarryd!" Rohan exclaimed. "It's really not that important. I wasn't being very careful," he confessed.
"What have you been up to mate?" Mate? Did I really just say mate? Jarryd thought to himself. Suddenly Jarryd began to sweat as well. His social anxieties began to inch back into his psyche. Lucky for him, Rohan filled the awkward void.
"Oh, not a whole lot it would seem."
"Maybe we could talk about it a bit more over milkshakes?"
Really? Did I just say milkshakes?, cried Jarryd's embarrased inner voice.
Rohan took a brave step forward. "I'd love that. Or wait, no. How about slurpies instead? I almost forgot I have a lactose intolerance."
Jarryd's composure returned swiftly when he realized a fleeting passion eminating from Rohan as well. Jarryd swiftly nodded in agreement over the choice in beverage and decided to lead the way. Jarryd was aware of a convenient store located nearby with a Slurpee machine inside of it. They'd have to leave the festival momentarily, but their pass-cards were secure. Safely tucked under their shirts. Readmittance was guranteed but it was begining to look as if the two legendary artists would not return in time for their DJ sets.
In a dark alley not far from the festival, the primal chirps of fornication began to twitter. A hot electric mess was begining to pulse. At first the ritual seemed mechanical. Their clothes came off. Their skin embraced. Rohan could feel Jarryd's hand on his crotch. Heat eminated from their body parts and a fire began to burn. Jarryd could feel the wind in his hair again. He let out a small squeelch not unlike something analog. Rohan threw his hands down Jarryd's backside and grasped him by the hips.
The person in Rohan's way became a flat plane recieving his colorful shapes. Thrust after thrust, Rohan proved time and time again that his attack would endure. For every attack Jarryd could mitigate, Rohan had another ready. As the rainbow blocks continued to fall, Rohan began to speed up. The two boys began to sweat. Rohan pulled Jarryd's hair.
"Have me!" screamed Jarryd. Rohan began to creshendo. The hardness increased and the tempo got faster. A sudden break in the pattern. He could feel his heart racing. His legs began to tremble as he managed to roar out a victorious "yes!" Rohan had climaxed. He withdrew his flacid member from his mate and bagan an awkward hunt for his under garmets. He found his briefs and slacks atop a garbage can. Not the best place to throw them, but he was kind of in a rush when he put them there. The two boys cautiosly put their clothe's back on and reluctantly returned to society.
Later that night Jarryd found himself restless. While the concert was missed that day and a few booking agents were pissed, Jarryd managed to see the positive aspects of his day. He returned home with a number to call, an email to write, and a lover to pine for. His jovial fantasies began to subside. Jarryd removed the Memorex voice recorder from his satchel. He hit play on the recorder and relived his afair. The reverberation of his boyfriend's climax immortalized.
Posted by Quarl - October 14th, 2014
When I was 16 I was punched in the face so hard that it completely shattered my left cheek bone. From the furthest left most region of my cheek across the orbit below my left eye to my nose, and down to my gums. That triangular region colliquoly known as "the cheek bone" is completely replaced with titanium plates and screws. It was a 9 hour opperation. The guy that did that to me also managed to sever a few nerves and to this day I still feel a small numbness in my face. It's been almost a decade. You should have seen the other guy. I totally broke his fist.
When I was 20 I landed myself in a car accident that threw me into a temporary drug induced coma (as per the hospitals advice.) The prefrontal region of my brain was swelling and they had to drill holes into my skull. I had also fractured the c2 vertabrea in my neck which is hystorically refered to as a "hangman's fracture." I'll let you assume why it's called that. After coming out of the drug induced coma and participating in several weeks of physical and mental therapy I was deemed safe to leave the hospital. I went back to college that semester and deans listed. I consider that a full recovery.
When I was 23 I moved to Oakland California. I lived at the intersection of 14th and Webster. It's where I started my transition. At this location I witnessed drive by shootings and bar brawls every weekend. One night I watched a young man break into 5 cars but was too afraid to call the cops lest someone over hear me. I was assaulted twice out in Oakland. I made the mistake of calling the cops after the first episode and was labelled a snitch which ultimately led to the second assault. I had gotten on the bad side of one of the squaters in my building who was selling coke to the local kids. He came knocking on my door one night while he was high on coke yelling "fight me, fight me faggot!"
I exited my doorway to try and talk him down but when he tried to walk by me and into my room I gouged at his face aiming for a pressure point. When that obviously wasn't working I started gouging his eyes. This coke head picked me up off the ground as I continued to ineffectively gouge at his eyes until he started biting on my ring finger. It's left a small scar to this day. When he finnaly let go of my hand I started elbow striking his head until he stumbeled away. Completely out of breath I called the cops. This is what labelled me a snitch to the other tennants in the building.
I later found out that Jimmy had broken into his room and was synthesizing crystal meth. Apparently he had spent time in federal prison and was in some spanish gang. He was squating a few doors down from mine. He told his friend to assault me for snitching. In The Empyreon Towers (the name of the building I lived in) I bumped shoulders with prostitutes, drug addicts, drug dealers, and all sorts of riff raff. Look up the Empyrean Towers on yelp.com
I'm 25 now. A few days after September 11th this year my mom decided to take her own life. I can't even begin to get into the details of that. It was literally the worst day of my life.
For the people that have followed me over the years, thank you. Being an artist is hard. I'm not writing so much music these days but I finnaly have a working computer and a safe roof over my head. I'm living with my dad again for the time being. All of these stories were paraphrased and typed over the course of thirty minutes but I'll let them sink in. I didn't even talk about my brief stint as a sex worker or some of my other questionable sources of income. Life has been hard. But if there's anything I want to take away from it all: life is good.
My nephew is almost two years old now. It's been an amazing privlege to watch my brother become the father of a beautiful child and the husband of an admirable wife. I still have my dad who is one of two parents that has loved me unconditionally through all my episodes. I have a decent job that I landed last year to get me through the winter. The lucritive season in the Hamptons is always the summer but when spring rolls around I'll have a second part time gig to fill my time with. I am continuing with my transition in the saftey of an afluent neighborhood within a strong community. As I said, I finally have a decent computer which means I might just pick up the music again. I might even get back into flash for the hell of it. Life is looking up once again. There's been so much chaos in my life and most of it self induced but at least I'm finnaly in a good place.
I'm only 25. "I'm still trying to figure out what I'll be when I grow up" ~Mom. She was my single greatest role model. I'll miss her but I'm happy to know that she's watching me from Valhalla and she's tipsy.