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Bear Hug

by Catching Confetti

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1.
Blood Sea 05:03
we were all born dunked in the blood sea, the chemical bath, a couple hundred bubbles up on the glass the funny smell of copper in the current is affecting the senses of all the cellular submersible jellies up in a hurry when a pulse from the deep end vertically aligns all the critters into swimmers syncopated in time because this has been a place, this has been a place, this has been a place for change I’m lost... lost my appetite for chemies and light, I got a taste for the....taste for the (oxygen) laced with gas from the big mother bubble suck in for the system out for the rest of them now is a hell of a time to be an organism born again of fission and fishin for other livin (things) cuz this has been a place, (shifting out of phase) this has been a place for change member my yellow belly? now i got a backbone I move it in a wave to send a sin back home bend the feather spine and forget to remember why because the gift of repetition is intrinsically mine at surface level, the lumen appears, a curious sphere, a symbol of the aerial nears, my better half better have a plan to gather the pieces that scattered the coast, marry them, capture the probe land ho!__ belly on the shell bits, rough on the stomach till the plush of the fungus and the fern beds spread, spread like a carpet bomb, take ground cover where the wild things are leave tracks in the sand and the mud, treasure map path dotted out for the herons above because this has been a place, this has been a place (or sampled dialogue) this has been a place for change 2 feet planted in the earth, Illinois black gold is the cradle and the hearse, heat on my chest, spine in my back river rock in my palm when the thought just snaps and the sound that is made when a stone cracks stone is forever engrained in the deepest part of my brain because this has been a place, this has been a place, this has been a place for change this has been a place, systematically encased in a flux state ripping matter into multiple configurations shredding confetti until ribbon threads break down into silly string mannequin manifestations now break it down.
2.
Radial 02:35
my body fills itself up, that water moves with the tides, I don’t know if its the moon still pulling strings from the side, or has the tension been cut a hundred thousand miles up leaving a dang(a)ling thread for satellites to touch the skin I'm in is younger than me and it never felt the mother’s mother or any number of cotton covers hands callus and capture a couple days, another chapter imprisoned in amber haze, the thickened diligence (ah) filling the crevices, them tidal nooks disappear and become the sea again get it back that sense of touch that sense of touch I let it go I gotta let it go I gotta gotta…
3.
Eastern Gray 03:37
ever since the first breath, its just an intermission in the mezzanine, pending till death and I guess she knew it was a one way trip digging pockets, little coffins, a profitable abyss with possible repercussions, and consequence unaccounted for, under the permafrost a bounty for the forest floor, repetition, a clever little system, a canopy of diligence concealing all the coping mechanisms a treasure, a breast, a belly, a nest, bury the cache, oak in the grass, carry the burden of service to nourish the land, a surplus of sustenance comes with a level of rubbish to balance the trash, the perils of waste, preparing for days, wearing the layers of skin to better the change, to better the chance organic camouflage captured on candid camera, a lens of metal or mucus it doesn’t matter much, a natural disaster is fabricated adjacent to the cicadas concealing the little chatter box last call coming, a giggle inside the hiss, its a stereo sound of silence that covers the morning mist, and the chorus of mourning thrushes that suddenly don’t persist, all must hope for the miss ​ a treasure, a breast, a belly, a nest, bury the cache, oak in the grass, carry the burden of service to nourish the land, a surplus of sustenance comes with a level of rubbish to balance the trash, the perils of waste, preparing for days, wearing the layers of skin to better the change, to better the chance all good things lay to rest, entomb the treasure till better weather recesses into the west
4.
5.
Beds 03:38
I used to lie in a bed of stripes, flat like the plywood, fingertips and palms to the sky, I used to find words in vinyl stars, they were pressed into the ceiling by the hands that I no longer have, I used to lie under a quilted bed, canopied and windowless, t-shirt fabric burying bones it was the room with the paper walls so lovingly assembled by the hands that we no longer have every seven years is a new set of cells, I heard that they cant come back back every seven years is a new set of cells, every seven years is a new set of cells, I heard that they cant come back back, every seven years is a new set of cells, I try to neatly fossilize every last bit of common ties, but fibers fray when they’re stressed or just over-pressurized, I doze under the deer, the saturn cycle nears, ring around the coma, and suddenly neon lights appear, cotton kamikaze insomniac south of 66, I shot the sun with my .22 but i barely missed, 4 pillows facing east, an extra gesture so my phantoms kindly rest in... sing a sunken lullaby and kiss another year goodbye, a third of every moment is delivered to the third eye, waking on other side is measured by the number of the quiet times we catalogued the touches of another spine ​...peace
6.
Chemicals 03:02
carry the canister and click it, the pressure of the compressed air, no fresh air comes with the messenger on this one sender gets a refund, a letter on the leg stem connected to the raven, how does it sound on my body? how does it sound on my red heart beat? how does it sound on a piece of concrete? thinking in a chemical, dressed (up) as a miracle, pelican dive in the deep end, connect the dots, red belly flop conceals the yellow spot, shifting colors to confuse the hawk, a simple game played by the chameleon skin double dipped in the warm sink reservoir Hotwheel color car, white hot hood cool trunk is the calling card, yeah I remember the spending of endless summers constructing the cardboard cockpit just for the fun of it, toggle toggle switch, (throttle lift) copper conduit brings artificial life to the horizon while i swallow spit, what I created was the born baby beautiful son of my left brain, daughter of the right brain, mother of invention and the father of reflection, see, I filter memories and flush out all the chaff like a million little krill sifting through the gates of paradise, made from husk, the mesh beard of baleen, when the two touch, it sounds like the same thing, how does it sound on my body? how does it sound on my red heart beat? how does it sound on a piece of concrete? thinking in a chemical, dressed (up) as a miracle
7.
EVA 04:21
air tight, barometric pressure levels are right, my mini habitat is faster than the sound of a bite forget the rare off chance that my off white suit doesn’t operate properly or could suffer a wound but I gotta have faith in my pelt, my polar bear skin, embedded with levels of different chemicals nestled up in the filaments, a fine fur capable filtering, sending all the big solar flare rays back to the same vast patch of the space that they came from, past all the planets and the asteroid belts where the belly of the beast swings in the dark felt, filled with the bones of the pisces, a black bear with the yellow dot stare and a fixed few points on the invisible dome, ursa in motion is a physical clone of all the kodiaks and grizzlies on the surface below. leaving the vehicle on the cusp, a cub in the earth’s light just a bare bone husk, separating the cavity from the first strike just a slow burn thrust, a subtle adjustment to counter roll/pitch jumps, and the shuttle umbilical isn’t tethered to nothin so I need constant assurance from all the mothers that I trust, the mother of a minor star, majored in astronomy, mother that I once had, who protected me from dad, his appetite a habit I could never understand, I’ll blame it on the burden of consumption or there was somethin in the salmon that created all the havoc, all the magic in the meadows of the past, all cast in an iron pot, fire and a lotta thought, it’s not a miracle we’re here, it's just a common cause. lessen the rate, a roll or a pulse chambers in motion to counter the cold enter the den, the hollow within protection from chemistry, signals begin above and below a silence is known the eye, alone, when looking up at night is capable of seeing the station ripping the sky, your eye, alone, when looking up at night is capable of seeing the station ripping the sky, an eye, alone, when looking up at night is capable of seeing the station ripping the sky, a bear, alone, when looking up at night is capable of seeing the station ripping the sky, summoning a signal from the last ones standing, something in the system isn’t right, 17,500 in an hour still stands, but it feels like I’m still not alive
8.
9.
Weddell 03:41
coming of age, coat on my arms, I feel, like Barbarella on the ground, It’s been long hunk of months, not quite a year thats a big enough chunk for the fur to feel fixed, I’m alone in the day, we all alone in the night, together, settle with the weather and the light, only get a glimpse of Carina and the Hydras I dress just fine, skin tight in fact, for the sea to receive me (skin tight) for the bite of the seasons and the bite of the blackfish, kill time till she finds my wake, she breaks bread and my seal so the flesh can escape. even though the first heart beat came to in the red belly room, warm light brite fire in the sky on the move, shadows on the wall of the tomb cast shapes on the lids of the pup in the blood cocoon, it took a push from the shore waves, never knew all the short days, on the cusp of the crust where the air hole busts like a crater in the moon dust, thats us, that under-currency purposeful in its urgency, below the curtain them urchins scratching the surface clean, a purple beam, tangled inside a prism piece, unfurl the banners, expand them to make the systems breathe, (the 4 blues) ice from the glacier, blood from the inside, light from the everlasting sun and the gill shine
10.
Evaporate 03:42
the rattle from the Sandhill spout, an echo from the Miocene thunder clap, it ripples and tears, eventually evaporates, red blaze, a beacon in the density (a beacon in the density), a single pulse in the glow of ochre memories, the mass in haste, expands evaporates these memories buried under centuries, bound by bands of clay, these memories buried under centuries, the thermal lift, a cushion under feather tips, Platte river, a sliver of a landing strip, the thread bends and breaks, each filament, a trigger for a millisec, wove tight, the flock is simply deafening, a static screen, a static sky, we gotta flight, we gotta flight plan we gotta flight plan filling the position of the missing man, these memories buried under centuries, bound by bands of clay, these memories buried under centuries, with a catalyst, the senses can unravel and break,
11.
was the tremor in the ground leftover from the sound that you made ​sighing through two palms?
12.
Tremors 04:07
cut bangs like prison bars, framing up a new face, it’s just a new construction made up of old growth, the fiber’s main production operates in slow mo and all my memories suffer from all the chemistry that governed all the seven and then some years hat I’ve been setteling (in), I wonder if the tip of the longest filament was along for the ride, a follicle in infancy that witnessed all the crimes, rooted in the youth and suited up in a thrift store budget and covered both in a canopy disguise, camouflage for the untrained eye, distract ‘em to fabricate a new vision of invisible beings that never seem to see each other cuz the fur above the brow has grown long enough so it covers the blue (the blue), I can only think in metaphor, just to say it doesn’t cut it (ah), its' a pillar and its cellophane, like the weight of an aeroplane, see the tremors in the ground were just echoes of all the sound waves felt in the belt of the Orion and the equator caves sourced from an origin of foreign soil, they say it emanated somewhere down in Florida, the recording that I got it's just a faint sigh, we’re still developing in silver gelatin, that salty surface that’s better at just remembering, the grains embedded will never combine together in any new combinations until they come face to face with the flames of the final ritual, pictures to paint a fictional funeral no procession just bricks arranged in some exes that multiply all the senses with burgundy skies and fences to witness the piles of paper ​combust into consequences,

about

Catching Confetti is a music project by Chicagoan Matt Milkowski. His debut release Bear Hug explores the invisible threads and cycles that connect the natural world, memories, and spaceflight. The album pays special homage to 3 animals in particular: the sandhill crane, the eastern gray squirrel, and the Weddell seal.

credits

released February 2, 2020

all songs written by Matt Milkowski
all songs performed by Matt Milkowski except:
additional drums performed by Diego Lopez on Radial, Beds, and Evaporate
additional vocals performed by Kira Harris Kogan on Blood Sea, Radial, Beds, Weddell, and Tremors
additional vocals performed by Diego Lopez on Radial and Evaporate
additional vocals performed by Ollie Hobson on Chemicals and EVA
additional horns performed by Amanda Raber on Blood Sea

instrumentation recorded by Dan Farnsworth at Gravity Studios on Radial, Beds, and Evaporate
vocals recorded by Dan Farnsworth at Gravity Studios on Blood Sea, Eastern Gray, Chemicals, EVA, Weddell, and Tremors
all other music recorded by Matt Milkowski

edited and mixed by Matt Milkowski
mastered by Bob Weston at Chicago Mastering Service
additional help by Doug McBride at Gravity Studios

special thanks to Christine Milkowski, Nick Suttner, Alfredo Barazza, Diego Lopez, Kira Harris, Ollie Hobson, Veda, Owen, and Tova

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all rights reserved

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Catching Confetti Chicago, Illinois

Catching Confetti is a music project by Chicagoan Matt Milkowski. His debut release Bear Hug explores the invisible threads and cycles that connect the natural world, memories, and spaceflight. The album pays special homage to 3 animals in particular: the sandhill crane, the eastern gray squirrel, and the Weddell seal. ... more

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