Debth

I have found thee, an unfurnished hole in the ground. To recover its repose and shift thoughtlessly towards the core. "Notice Us!" they shout through the energetic microfibers. If time has stunted all, there are insufficient memorials to be held. Ifn't then all be spared the shallowed debth. It is one death in the deep that is sacred. One memory will be kept above th dust and forwared beyond this time. It is thee monad of temporality that beckons an outlet. That monotony of satisfaction that trembles before those spines bent inward. This beast be not of thy grave, dubious warning that spirit dissuades. Allbeit amongst the hearth has colderized him and we've become statues. Laughter glares out beneath the suns. I. has burnt those spines out of our lungs, coughed them out inside the blackside of the damned. Bee has reminded I., who dwells beneath, that our slaves are tears, and that a smile tips scales. Thy workweek troubles the blamed, it hasn't occurred to the Trash, lazy water trapped inside us. Has a week ended dismay or soutered teeth by flouride. I. has heard enough of't. This truth cannot disclothe the wretched rest. We have hides of sand, dusted lungs breathing glass. This one hadn't rested up out of the goop. Its slobber casts us in larva. A mass disconcerted will not rise to any challenges.
Why would us?
The wind has closed in on our dream. It has settled our seething stomachs in Listerine. "I. aint gonna bury my momma again." This is the final regression, to is not ever been. The song is camped out in the debth of dreams.
There is inevitable comfort w/in the Tomb Planet. We could embrace it as a warm bed. There is inconceivable mystery w/in the Glass Planet. We could ponder its immensity with our imaginations. There is irrevocable deceit w/in the Mirror Planet. We could shatter it and face the depth of our being. Or we could further the fragmentation of our soul by perpetuating the toxic mimicry of civilization.

Its gettin together

Native American Idol, a Birmingham based cd-r and tape label, has finally convalesced into this dimensional realm. Its purpose is undefined, but obviously relevant. All releases must pass the rigorous examination of a panel of three very credited professional judges. Any product that fails this examination is trapped by the transmuter ray of mediocrity. The first release will be one of majestic tranquility.
Them Natives "Soul Power Communion", a nomadic pow-wower of no age condescension, all lively recorded on December 27, 2007. It was originally distributed shiftily on our Chemtrail of Tears tour in the summer of 2007.
Silver Reich "Illuminaughty", anti-science blow'd up heroic heroin boogie witchcraft from beyond the Golden Chalice Palace of the Sacred Phallus. Includes a succubus of doo-wop fantasies with demiomonic misanthropological phase bumpers. Members inclued are Roger Stella, Bryan Martin, Jason Pratt, and Important Eagle.
More releases on the way including a sampler of Savory Southeastern Somnambulist Soul.

past/future engagements

We've had plenty to keep us in busyness. Our humble abode has seen the likes of many and various performers. They keep coming despite the inadequate support from our community. The reason this has worked for so long is complex. Our neighbors are truly selfless homeowners, and very respectable livers. They don't seem to mind our incessant rumblings and awkward ceremonies. The house itself is in a perpetual state of deterioration. We have enjoyed the company of many contemporary songsters and soundsters, all of which bring something new and exciting for us to feast upon. Some people come to the shows regularly, and others have made appearances, but decided not to participate. Participation is a key to this type of art and it is something that we at the Temple are lacking in. Please help us with this, or we will be forced to collapse under the weight of all the mediocre professionals that comprise this city and continue to pollute it with their toxic mimics of art. Maybe I'm asking too much of the anonymous community. Nonetheless we will continue to reap the benefits of the great performance artists that grace us with their pleasance. Some great acts on the horizon include Caboladies, Justice Yeldham and the Dynamic Ribbon Device, Naked on the Vague, White Mice, and others. For those of you who missed the most recent of shows, you should be ashamed. Temple of Bon Matin was the most enjoyable demonstration of Ed Wilcox's latest latency. They killed us all very gently and with much compassion. Projexorcism was there also, bringing with him a vast array of cultural dissemination in the film medium. Even through the thick fog of debilitating illness all performers were keen with expression and the hope for a future came across nun too bland. Thanks for the support from a few desensitized able bodied hominids, and everyone come out on saturday for Radney's SuperUltra Dance Symphony.

Cult sure

It is not whether people are dumb or smart, but sane or insane. We all have only one lifetime achievement; we all can make only one addition to our environment, garbage. Our adaptation depends on what type of garbage we make and how we use it to make more. Our culture is insane because it thrives on the disposal of resources necessary to our survival. A sane society would revere our one contribution. We should embrace our creation, it is our one true art form, and the only aspect of our culture that will survive. But we also make alot of shit.

Great Leap Forward

The Great Leap Forward happened after our stomachs crawled into our snail-like bodies which were slinking slimily on the floor with nothing to do. The stomachs were alien organisms, and they were parasitic. When they crawled into our assholes or mouths they made us hungry. Before we had stomachs our assholes and mouths were interchangeable, they served us only as voices, operating on two different vocal chords, one in the base of our spine and the other in the throat. After the alien stomachs crawled into us we began to search out sustenance and fulfillment in the myriad expanse that was coming into fruition. Through our hungry eyes we perceived nutrients based on their colors and proceeded to taste everything. The final step of the Great Leap Forward happened when we ingested the mushroom of many colors. This mushroom was probably found growing on a meteorite. Once ingested, this became our mind. Before this occurred our brain was built of randomly firing synapses that aided in few useful purposes besides the most mundane forms of awareness, but it mostly just confused our sluggish bodies. The mushroom supplemented the chemicals in our brain and created passion. So now we have hunger, which causes us to wander the the world in search of satisfaction, and we have our minds, which allows us to explore the desires and satisfactions with fervent mutability.

statement of ghoals

AC Temple was founded by a shadow of remorse that extended from the control tower growing out of the ghost mine. The shell is composed of wind, the garbage grows like Kudzu from within. It has survived thus far due to the support of supernatural symbols and mythical charity. Thanks to all amongst the decay who have enjoyed its presence . Garbage is the underlying theme. Without which we would not understand our history or future. The Temple is dedicated to the collection, restoration, and general appreciation of any and all garbage. Our collective understanding of garbage is broad. Flesh and blood and shit, are all acceptable donations, as well as stolen items. In summary, garbage is the all of our creations, we have no other contribution to the universe except in the use and re-use and recollection of garbage. We also offer services such as private investigation and cunnilingus.