SLITHERING SNAKE / FROM THE DESK OF BB

The ascension of snakes is old hat to us, son. Pres-don't Orange Manure can't fire us. We cuddly as fuck.

NONE THE LESS

It's no limit craziness from that "florescent shockwave" Shalo P and the whole Television For Ghosts gang. Fistfuls of courage to all our peace-loving angels.

Shalo P sent a postcard themed-up all "Jack The Ripper". It poured out crimson out onto the floor when it was handed over - serves him right for sending a gull to do his dirty work.

CUT TO THE CHASE

New books are in the works but we're also in the studio making music and working out these dang riddles 

Void Fox keeps faxing.

More "new" soon. We're part of the resistance that keeps singing freedom. We UH love UH freedom of UH expression and will UH fight for freedom of speech for every one, even the UH damn fools.

Well, this fool here thinks all life is one and that our only battle lies with the human heart. 

Open up and take freshness balls deep, bitch.

Reach out to your brothers and sisters and trans-community. Reach out real-life interesting friends.

Skip out and live with your beasties. Live in caves full of laughs instead of like slaves seeped in wrath.

Don't sink into the Beat-Off Generation, fingers clinging to the edge of a pool of endless "YOU", like Narcissus.

Forgive yourself for chasing those lying bastards' dreams, or any old wack shit, and join us. 

Meet us out in the Wilderness with a boombox and a bag of tape.

We just want a weirder stronger sexier gender-fluid tasty creative clever common conniving future for everyone. We're into optimism, cause that's the only thing keeping these little fists from just flying.

If I rip another dress or have to shave my legs higher than my fucking knees I'm gonna go kerzy. BUCK WILD (while also probably nude and rude to boot).

ANYHUH

We always believe in artists. THEM FUCKERS SELL PATCHES OF HEAVEN!

TELL YOUR FUCKING FRIENDS 'CAUSE ARTISTS LIKE US LIVE BY THE RICHNESS OF TODAY'S AUDIENCE.

SWEAT AND BLOOD MAKE THAT GREAT MUTHA'S MILK NOURISHING AND JIZZY GENIUS.

THINK ABOUT IT. BEING AHEAD OF YOUR TIME JUST MEANS YOU'RE SURROUNDED BY GOLDERN BACKWARDS SOMBITCHES. EGAD, SQUIRE.

ROLL THAT SHIT FORWARD AND BE A STEWARD FOR PURE INDEPENDENT MADNESS. LET'S LIVE IN THE FUTURE WHILE FIGHTING THE EMPIRE.

BE AN AGENT OF THE SENSUALLY ENIGMATIC. KISS THESE INTELLECTUAL TITS. TAKE A NIPPLE INTO THAT HEATHEN MAW. TASTE THAT?

From The Desk of SHALO P

"We make no truce with the uninteresssting."  

OH OH OH

That would be crimnal,

BB

San Francisco, California 

PSST

WE'RE GONNA BLEED OUT THEM PORES OVER HERE PRETTY SOON.
THERE'S A LOT OF NEW FUN COMING, WRACKED WITH SORROW AS WE RILE UP A WHOLE LOTTA WILD. TO PARTY.

WE'RE THINKING ABOUT NEW MUTANTS BOOKS - ITS A VIVID, STRANGE CONCEPT FOR RESTLESS MINDS.
NEW TAPES ARE COMING SOON TOO, LIKE HUNGRY GHOSTS - PURE PLEASURE.
WE'RE GONNA DO SOME SCREENINGS AS WELL - MAD MAD MAD TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS BANQUETS FOR THE SENSES - FROM THE HOLE IN THE VAULT TO THE BASEMENT SHOW PROCURED BY THE COSMIC COLOSSAL VOID.
HOPEFULLY THE WALLS HOLD BACK 'CAUSE WE SHANT.

IT'LL BE DEF & DIVINE. WE JUST GOTTA REACH THEM SEARCHERS THAT BEEN SEARCHING TO CONNECT WITH OUR SWEET NUFFIN.
COMING SO-SO SOON, DOOD.

&
WE FUCKING LOVE YA SURVIVORS. THAT LOVE IS TRUE HONEST IMMORTAL - LIKE A FUCKING VAMPIRE.
IF YOU'RE FEELING WEIRD IN YOUR SKIN IT'S JUST THE BEGINNING OF SLINKING AWAY CLEAN FROM THE CRIME.

oh oh oh hell prevails,
SHALO P

FROM THE DESK OF DORDERY MARKS

I'M GONNA SMASH YOUR FACE IN.

LOVE IS THE ONLY THING I KNOW HOW TO DO RIGHT.

POST_VALLEY

OOF

That darn mysticism of VALLEY can sure stink up the place.

BB is back, armed with fancy sticker pads and nubby erasers she plans to NEVER use.

Ariel is setting a fire to the recording material. She was fired last week, but we're keeping her around for morale. We suffer for our arse AKA still on the look-out for nimble fingers to wind tape. The tracks are setting in a train to somewhere with an inter-dimensional soundtrack - and we're providing the music - with WILDERNESS, a two-tape set of Valley music to inspire awe and pawing around.
The sounds wafting down the hallway from the studio carve out invisible strange into the walls, all the more sweeter the second time around as VALLEY flings its delicate body into stage two, with the further release of materials pertaining to the mystery event, and the evidence that Shalo P is a madman that should probably be locked up for good (or at least paddled).

FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P :

After VALLEY closed, I half-expected free dinners every night,
but carrying this running chainsaw didn't win me too many pals either.

POST_VALLEY

Now with the second exhibition of VALLEY closed forever, only the tangential elements of the project will persist in production until the time comes when full completion is all globbed in perfect pristine puddles at our feet.
Things aren't clean cuts in the real world. Closure isn't necessarily an objective either, when it boils down to extending that elusively glorious thrill.

THE BOOKS WILL SEE PRINT.

(How really?)

Don't ask us, but keep on praying to your black glistening idols.

We wracked our brains and wrecked our minds to get close to something real.

All it produced was four sturdy walls that bleed at will, and a mirror on my desk that shivers, shatters, reassembles - repeat. H. P. Lovecraft had it correct in a few respects: Deep Gods got that dope-ass wifi.

Bask in these failures that drove half the interns mad while out on the company picnic, some leaving to rest in the pale stone caves below the Falcon's Roost, only to come back changed - stretched motley by feasts of soiled seawater. The captain was found cooped in his cloister of stone coffins, amid tense spiders of sweat, and never-ending mental exhaustion. The girls gathered to draw straws as to who could spare the poor man's soul with a large stone's strike. THAT WAS CASUAL FRIDAY.

THINGS ARE LOOKING GOOD.

From the Desk of Shalo P :

(prolonged, anguished scream)

From the Desk of BB :

The sounds sure have been Delia Derbyshire all up in this piece, amid a gaggle of other ladies of strange sound. What if DD had been the inspiration for BB in TVG?

JUST FOR YOU

A taste: "B-Beginning as trainee studio manager, her troubles were compounded by an addiction to music inter-dimensional, coke-invoked seances, and a devastating preoccupation with a mysterious department within Television for Ghosts. Perhaps there's an avant-garde ballet of threads of tape... cascadin' some mad..."

ERR. In other news, we're chalking one up for responsibility. TVG has it's own official ledger for 2016. In accordance with Shalo P's perpetual deconstruction of tomorrow, all serious business is peppered with little musings and cryptic records, lest we forget that the mad boss nearly hovers on his shamefully airy persona. 

Your (psycho) ward,

BB
San Francisco, California

p.s.
We're opening up the store with new music and books for 2016 (and eternity's ceaseless loop).

BONUS : Here is a link of Shalo P Discussing Valley  

: )