2013/07/13

Bear 21- Section 8

BEAR 21... The Story of a Man and Her Umbrella

Section 1: The First 6 Days of Terror
Section 2: In One Day Your Whole Life Can Change
Section 3: Dangerous Love
Section 4: The Tragic Demise of Some Loser
Section 5: This Life Already Happened*
Section 6: Prophecy 14
Section 7: The Present That Already Happened Holds Enormous Implications for a Future That Might Not Exist
Section 8: The Yellow Pearl is Upon Us Now, We Must Fight Back



SECTION VIII: The Yellow Pearl is upon Us Now




(6/27 2013) Day 20: A Random Assortment of Unexplainable Events

5 days remaining until the Great Flood.

Severe weather alerts were abound as the rain came hammering down. Flash floods ripped water through the streets creating fast streams of rivers flowing down the steep avenues creating deep lakes at the bottom of the city streets that were created centuries ago just to be destroyed by those who initially created it in the first place. Intense lightning filled the sky and the thunder shattered previous decibel records.

One burst of thunder shook the buildings and one sole window fell out of a downtown skyscraper free falling into a spiraling dive that appeared to be moving in slow motion. The enormous window dropping from the sky was an amazing spectacle that climaxed with the landing of the window cemented into the sidewalk, followed by a rapid onset of amplified shattering that created a cracked labyrinth in the window pane, and then a massive explosion of glass that sent extravagant shards of reflective glass rifling through the streets of downtown. People dropped in the streets, bracing for safety, while a family of tourists watched a speeding sliver of window slice through the air, and father's head split in half. 

Rain poured inside the window and the people inside that building evacuated in a hurry. They raced out of the building in a state of panic as the one office burst into an inferno. Several people leaped out of the window and splattered onto the sidewalk. The bloodstains on the sidewalk was short lived as the rain abruptly washed away the remains.

The bus was jam packed with the 3rd most horrendous people known to mankind. Several of them disembarked at the Country Courthouse and nearly drown en route to the meeting with their probation officers. Child support documents filled the blackened sky as they were blown away in the wind. A power line went down, sending massive blue sparks into the raging river that engulfed the desolate circle of repeated offenders.

Ingle’s Supermarket was a scene of chaotic turmoil. Lightning had struck a gas pump and there was a haze of blue flames shimmering over the parking lot. Although the flames seemed transparent, one step into the incandescent convector caused the victim to immediately torch with the orange fire that celestially augmented the shimmering blue illumination. People were racing through streets with flames soaring from their smoldering bodies as they clutched ever-so-tightly to those blue cloth Ingle’s bags. 276 fire engines stormed the scene to extinguish the last great grocery store fire the world would ever behold.

It was total chaos on the bus, although I could hear nothing for my headphones had drowned out everything. Two elderly women were arguing over some regard that happened amidst the apocalypse. Others also became involved in the scuffle and the bus driver slammed on the brakes to put an end to ensuing madness. Upon slamming the brakes as the E1 hand basket was burrowing through the flooded streets that splashed massive amounts of water onto the sides of the bus, the hand basket hydroplaned and plunged down Tunnel Road sideways.

Just as the bus regained control, while screeching sideways onto South Tunnel Road just past Asheville Mall, the rain mysteriously stopped. The world had delved into a state of panic as civil disobedience took precedent in what was being perceived as the last days of existence. Swarms of indignant nomads who were seeking solace since escaping the asylum filled the street and mobbed the bus. People were pounding on the windows from outside; people inside the bus pounded back at them; the two elderly ladies engaged in a full brawl; and some random asshole sitting in the back pressed the “stop requested” button.

The Swannanoa River had flooded and wreaked intense damage across the ruins of Buncombe County. Bodies lying face down floated down the rapids and then quickly disappeared into the bizarre mystery stories of the next generation. A smashed trailer floated by and crashed into the side of the bridge that one must cross before entering the realms of blackened despair. And with that crash came the demolition of the most impoverished mobile home in the vicinity. A swarm of locusts proliferated from underneath the mattress in which Bobbie Joe & Bobbie Jean first conceived Bobbie Joe XIV.

Rain once again poured from the black clouds that bore the head of the beast. Two bursts of lightning at once ignited from the glowing red eyes of Satan’s cumulus. And the clouds rolled, bursting lightning, roaring thunder, amidst the sound of 250 zillion tortured souls being burned alive… upon hearing their agonistic screams, I knew I had reached my destination… Bowls Department Store.

Even though disaster was presently happening in real time right as I was promenading through the fiery acid rain with a broken umbrella, I knew the worst had yet to come. Somewhere in the midst of all this came a moment of clarity. All of the temperaments in the tempest of my psychologically impaired surroundings whimsically disdained. Only one voice of reason remained present in the face of global extermination, and informed that if I entered that building, that I would never make it out of there alive.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And for that, I had no answers. I simply walked inside, heard that God awful music, turned around, and walked right back outside into the thundering tempest. Certain suicide was a difficult notion to embrace. This had to come to an end shortly, or else my cause of death was going to be listed as spontaneous combustion and then perished into flames while being sucked away into the black clouds of Purgatory Macabre.

"The Ballad of Dwight Fry" by Alice Cooper  had become my theme song for working at Bowls Department Store based on two lines:

Exhibit A) “See my lonely life unfold, I see it every day.” 
Exhibit B.) (Shouting frantically) “I want to get, out of here. You got let me out of here! 

Once again, I was surrounded by people in whom I would never have pursued on my own terms. These people I knew nothing of, nor did I ever envision myself in their presence ever in my dreams. While away from work, I never thought of the world through their mentality, I had never striven to be exactly like them, I had never had thought of them, wondered about their whereabouts, viewed them as role models, or sought their friendship.

It’s not that I hated any of them, nor did I ever wish to hate anybody. There were periods when I questioned my own ethics for not being exactly like them. Unfortunately, there exist different people with different interests. I did not identify with this clientele. Not that they were bad people—no, it was probably me who was the worst species—I was just out of place, in the wrong cage, with no shared interests. A high percentage of them were tolerable, some enjoyable, and a few here and there I felt belonged in Asheville. Sadly, there were many of them that were so abominable that their mere presence caused a massive disruption of the molecular structure that comprised my entire genetic chemical imbalance.

This 287** zip code did not represent Asheville. They would be tolerable in smaller doses. However, at the Bowls Department Store near Asheville, they had completely taken over and dominated the terrain. It was perplexing how non-Asheville this Bowls Department Store had become; even more disenchanting was their cumbersome ways that wrecked all hopes for humanity.

The unidentifiable clientele had numerous peculiar traits. Never in my life had I ripped opened up a package of socks and tried on a pair—these people did it daily. Never in my life had I brought unwanted merchandise to the checkout register and immediately greeted the cashier by telling him/her the items that I do not want—these people brought items to the register they never had any intentions on buying, and were too lazy to put it away themselves. Never in my life had I left products lying on the floor where they did not belong—I will even put back clothes that I have tried on in the fitting room in their proper location on the shelf (and this was long before Bowls Department Store, it is my natural instinct to empathize with workers.) Never in my life had I tried on a pair of shoes, and then left one of the shoes lying on the floor in an aisle in which it did not belong—I walked 5.4 miles home, making it back to the aisle in which the product was originally found was not a huge struggle.

Many of the customers were so lazy that they answered the “how are you doing today?” question with, “Tired! Ready to go home and go to bed.” This happened frequently at 3:48 in the afternoon. Who the fuck goes to bed this early?

But, I am empathetic, I tried to reason. Maybe they just woke up early. But, that too caused a disturbance.
What the fuck did these people do? Wake up as soon as the sun came up to cock-a-doodle-do at random hallucinations in the parkway? Was that them making all that noise out in the parking lot this morning? Even if that was the case, 3:48 in the afternoon is too early of a bedtime… they should have tried to remain active as long as it was daylight. Surely not everybody in the 287** zip code is a 3rd shift worker.

There is something very unsettling when a store becomes extremely busy during inclement weather. What the Hell would make a person drive all the way out to Bowls Department Store during a flood? Somebody entered and asked a series of questions about couch cushion covers because she had to have one now. You have to think about the characteristics of people who drive 30-180 minutes from small villages to shop at Bowls Department Store for couch cushion covers during a flood warning in which sirens were raging. Bowls Department Store did not even carry couch cushion covers.

The store was crammed full with the type of stupid white people who get killed in moronic horror movies. One of the 287 hillbillies hoisted the Justin Bieber display and carried it around with him; he bothered me for several hours about how he wanted to take it home for his kid sister who loved Justin... claimed it would have been wrong to not allow her to have it. Justin Bieber will be the death of us all.

And me, I was that stupid white guy walking home in the rain. The resurgence of the moment of clarity drowned out all of my surroundings as I once again asked myself, “What the fuck are you doing?” Man, you’re walking 5.4 miles home in a flood because you moved back here to work at Bowls Department Store?

I needed to make some changes and they needed to be made fast. It became imperative that I find a job soon or else I was going to die. Even though I had warned myself that I can’t be afraid to die, I was not yet ready to leave behind all of my unfinished business. I must employ all means necessary and do whatever it takes to have a job ASAP.

Living like this was intolerable. No person should ever be subjected to these horrendous living conditions that only featured insanity causing repetitive torture where a human being cannot even consume a beverage in the presence of an oppressor for the inexcusable pay of $7.55/hour. There was not one good thing about this position. Bowls Department Store represented the greedy corporation where all of the workers were peasants who could barely afford to survive while the oppressors lived luxuriously. 

If only I’d have dressed like the girl who interviewed me. If that’s what it takes to survive in this world, then that's what I must do.




(6/28 2013) Day 21: Full Moon over the Swannanoa River

4 days remaining until the Great Flood.

Most days I awoke to pleasant dreams of being sexually abused with extreme force by the woman of my meaningful existence. The woman of this fantasy changed from day-to-day. She was typically a sophisticated woman who held a position of power. Carrie had been the subject of this ongoing fantasy for the past two weeks due to the fact that she was currently my manager, extremely attractive, and genuinely despised me enough to forcibly rape me as a means of strict discipline. Prior to that, this dream involved women whom I had never met.

There were no such explicit fantasies on the morning of June 28th. A moment of clarity temporarily resumed and it occurred to me that I was not longing for my most desired ambition. Perhaps I had lost all hope. I assumed that Carrie had vanished into a void since the emergence of Maria. Unfortunately, Maria did not seem to be the abusive type and therefore not my type. The dream had been altered because of I thought of Maria last night and I did not wake up with her on my mind because I am yet to figure out the details how this sort of relationship is supposed to work. Or, maybe I never thought of her because I did not want for her to disappear yet.

All of these notions quickly subsided as the reality of the situation officially unfolded. Neither of the two were important; nor was being in an abusive relationship. I recalled that I had decided to take all means necessary in order to find a better job in order to never have to make that dreaded walk from Bowls Department Store in an apocalyptic storm ever again. 

We had created Jessica to resolve this matter and she had been elected Prime Minister among the voices in my head. While my official voice of reason, along with the remainder of my friends and colleagues residing within in my head were still present, Jessica was now in full control of the helms. All of those intuitions and voices of reason I had listened to my entire life had led me nowhere—it was time to relinquish control and submit myself to the commands of Jessica… although this had caused inner turmoil. But, I finally had a beautiful woman in my bedroom, and that lovely attractive lady was me.

We all agreed with the notion that a person should dress for the position he/she desires to obtain. With my old ass shitty unstylish dilapidated clothes, it was apparent that I merely desired to be in a place surrounded by old people—which had been the theme of my past few positions. People often take one look at me how I am dressed, and automatically assume that I am the perfect fit for senior citizen companionship. Some people describe me as that skinny guy who dresses like an old man, they guess my age significantly older than what it really is (usually between the ages of 50 and 70). This had to change.

Jessica adopted a role model, a person in which she had been admiring since she was created—Carrie. I no longer had any desire to have sex with Carrie; instead, I wanted to be exactly like her. She represented that perfect blend of beauty and intellect that the entire world should strive to achieve. Unfortunately, the ideal characteristics of a human being are often met with intimidation and violent opposition from those who lack to credentials to embody the most desirable principles possibly displayed to assume the role of a key figure in The Center of The Universe. Therefore, we also had to create a bitchy demeanor, just like hers, in order to counter the hostility directed upon the beautiful spirits by the mediocre minds.

The whole day was spent attempting to adopt all of her mannerisms and trying to model my appearance to pass for a Carrie replica. To begin this process, I posted a letter on the refrigerator to my roommate:

ATTENTION!!!
Moving forward, the mayonnaise is to strictly be placed on the shelf located inside the door. We will no longer be putting the mayonnaise on any shelf inside the refrigerator. Simply put, placing the mayonnaise on the 2nd top shelf of the refrigerator, in full view of ourselves, is not business like. Your cooperation in this matter is NOT optional.
Tony J. Neal

The only mayonnaise in the refrigerator was mine and I do not think that David even liked mayonnaise. Furthermore, I had only been living there for about two months and he had been residing there for several years. He responded by spending the entire portion of his half of the rent exclusively on jars of mayonnaise and completely filled the top shelf with his mayonnaise (shitty ass Hellman’s in a jar); and then he left my mayonnaise (the good mayonnaise, Miracle Whip in a squeezable container) setting out on the counter with the lid open.

To make certain that I was going to make the appropriate changes needed in my life, I wanted to be absolutely positive that I appeared perfectly professional that day. My goal was to dress exactly how Carrie was dressed, in the exact same fashion, with all the exact same clothes—from her blouse all the way down to her shoes. Therefore, I sought the advice of my current role model and tracked down Carrie’s phone number to be positive that I would be dressed exactly like her that day. I sent her a text message:

"Hey Carrie, this is Tony. What are you wearing?"

My phone soon vibrated and I was pleased with how quickly she responded:

Tony! WTF??? Listen here you little son-of-a-bitch, if u ever send me another creepy text message like that, u will not only be fired but I will drag your scrawny little ass outside into the parking lot, jerk that crappy umbrella out of your hands, and beat u senselessly with it.

She obviously misinterpreted my message and that hurt my feelings. Carrie must have thought that I was still a man and failed to realize that I was now a woman; a woman just like her and this is how girls talk to each other.

My official voice of reason encouraged me not to respond, and I agreed that was probably a good idea. We were on our own trying to decipher how we should dress today, and this was by far the most important decision we had ever been faced with in our entire life. It was a confusing series of events because there was so much advice coming from multiple directions. Part of me felt I needed to be a real man; part of me needed to be a real woman; and there was inner conflict as to what type of man or woman that I needed to be. I was confused as to whether or not I wanted to be the woman that I always wanted to fuck, that bitchy lady who had ruined my life, the guy Jessica wanted to fuck, or continue being this douchy asshole who had also ruined my life.

We decided that we were going to abandon all of these ridiculous notions and be a real man; we decided that we were going to dress exactly like Carrie, and that was final. Amidst all of this confusion, I dressed how this dilapidated mental state suggested Carrie would be dressed:




As I boarded the bus as the new me, I hoped that the E1 hand basket would be exactly like it always had been. Our goal was to be surrounded by hot sausage, and any sausage was acceptable. Jessica was that type of white girl who thought all men were extremely cute except for me. All of the guys on the E1 Sausage Fest were sooo hot! I was hoping they would take me to court with them and forcefully shove their Late Child Support subpoenas up my pussy; then take me to Wal Mart and lube my ass up with some erotic fat back and then proceed to tie me to their beds and pelt me across my bare ass with an entire bucket of frozen Chitterlings. This was a mutual feeling too because the people on the bus could not keep their eyes off of me—I knew I looked fucking hot!

There was a major distraction on the bus however. My phone kept vibrating and I assumed that it had the exact mechanisms as a bed in a cheap hotel. When I finally checked my phone, it claimed that my memory was low because I had too many messages. Furthermore, my balance had been depleted drastically and I was uncertain what was happening.

All 253 messages were from Carrie. The first one stated that there would be no “next time” and that she was going to beat me senselessly with the umbrella anyway—just on principle; and that she had been looking for an excuse to officially beat the shit out of me because the mere sight of me made her sick. The rest of the messages contained various other death threats and I wondered if she was a contributing writer to any of the Saw movies. I just made a face and responded with:

Girl, you need to chill. Like, seriously. OMG.

My phone continued to vibrate excessively and it was difficult to keep up with them.

I entered work wearing my new dress attire and felt as if I was being scouted for management material. Unfortunately, I was dressed nothing like Carrie, and she simply gave me a dirty look claiming that I would be dealt with later. Fortunately, an abundance of people called in sick that day, and not only did I have to work in this apparel, but I was also asked to stay later and close.

To go along with my new image, I decided that I also needed to Southernize my persona so that it would be more compatible with the customer’s personality. I frequently said to customers, “well bless your little heart!” I called everybody “darling” “honey” “gorgeous” and all sorts of other shit. It was received with the utmost pleasure as the customers frequently smiled and some even laughed out loud—I was so proud of my customer service!!!

After we closed, I felt that my mission was a success. Since I was now a lovely woman, I no longer needed to walk home and could call somebody for a ride. However, Carrie had sent me so many death threats that my final message was from Verizon Wireless stating that I had a $0 balance and my account had been canceled.

I was perfectly content with walking on this night, even though it was raining. Because I was now a hot babe, some hot guy would stop and pick me up and give me a ride home. Who knows? I might even decide to be a bad girl and conduct some road head along the way… and this meant free drinks and a free salad from Waffle House.

Walking in heels was difficult and I was growing impatient that nobody had stopped to offer a ride yet. It had been nearly three blocks and I hardly even saw any cars.

There was a full moon that shone brightly over The Swannanoa River. Since there was a slight overcast because it had been raining so heavily, the clouds formed the perfect circle around the moon, augmented with one hint of darkness slightly darkening the moon’s creepy effects with just a trace of a dark lining from severity of a patch of gloomy horror. This was the type of moon in which all white people officially meet their calling.

Just as I was suddenly afraid of the night because of the appearance of the moon, there was not another car in sight. Swannanoa River Road appeared more desolate than it did 100 years ago when it had never even been blazed.Up in the distance, the capricious bear stared at me and I temporarily froze.

The bear approached and I reacted exactly like the other white girls that I had become… I screamed. The angry bear charged towards me and I hastily ran into the woods wearing high heels. I was in a state of panic, screaming for help, crying, running around uncertain where I was even going. It was doubtful anybody could hear me. And like all white girls do in this situation, I tripped over a log and fell face down onto the ground.

I did not attemt to get up right away. Instead, I sat there, sobbing, crying, and clutching my ankle that I thought was now broken. This dress was ruined and I didn't even want think what my hair looked like. For reasons unknown, I actually fumbled through pockets that I didn't have searching for the receipt so that I could return the dress for a refund—or at least be issued a store credit.

The bear finally caught me and stared me down. I cried, and shouted, “God damn you!” as I threw my high heel at him. In fact, I threw a complete white girl tirade… crying, hitting the ground, sobbing, and shouting out inaudible phrases that made no sense, such as “why?”

This wild animal was not sympathetic to the cries of a white girl. He circled around me, growling, sneering, while preparing to strike. It looked exactly how my worst nightmare visualized it. 

Yet another moment of clarity emerged as I sat there in deep thought listening to the music on my headphones; I paid no attention to the bear. I had only been a woman for one day; one day in an entire life that had been governed by a strict ordinance since the day of two; the #1 most important creed that shall never be violated. 
Long ago, I had vowed to devote full undivided attention to The Soundtrack to My Death when that final fate approached.
This had been a concept my entire life. Whether a man or a woman, no matter the circumstances, the music will be embraced for my passing into the next world. This shall determine the means in which we shall conclude our existence. For this one moment, I simply focused on the song… this was the moment I gave up all hope.

Throughout my entire life, I anticipated the ideal song to play for that final moment. Once upon a time, I had even made a playlist titled "My Dying Hour" that I would play to perfectly accompany my death. The song that was playing had never been considered: "Yellow Pearl" by Phillip Lynott.

There was something in this song that influenced our final outcome. It is best to die in the natural state that had defined you; never in an attempt to be anything contrary to the genuine self. To the tune of one line, everything changed: 
The Yellow Pearl is upon us now, we must fight back.”  ~ Phillip Lynott
My original voice of reason resumed control and Jessica was permanently deleted. Unafraid of anything, I stood straight up and stared down the bear. The bear also stood up, roared, revealed his teeth, his claws, and prepared to attack. Dressed in a pretty flowery dress, I clutched the $5 stick umbrella and charged towards the capricious bear.





Written, Designed, and Music Compiled by Tony J. Neal

Concept by Will Isenogle


END CREDITS:
Based on true events, but less than 26% factual. Any relation with any actual person, place, or bear both coincidental and intentionally fabricated.

Starring, with full consent: Will Isenogle, Cameron Zarrabzadeh, Adam Pitts, Carney Shea, Christopher Ballard, Laura Needels, & Virginia Criscillis.

All other people contained within the story was done so without consent, and therefore contain less than 5% factual information, particularly Carrie the Manager. The names may sound similar, but none of the descriptors are in any way shape or form true to their real life person, and many do not approve of the content contained on this website.

Playlists created on 8tracks

Photo, Video Credits:

Cover by Tony J. Neal
Bear Photo for Chapter Interludes By: Google
Batman the Dog: (Dog) Spired
Umbrella by Tony J. Neal
UPS Crash: JD Law Group
Candi's Ghost from Twin Peaks Fire Walk with Me, Written & Directed by David Lynch
Haunted Phone: Tumblr: Paranormal Investigators
Elderly woman came from Google and I am sure she is a nice lady.
Chick Fil-A Chart by Tony J. Neal
Chick Fil-A Litter Images by Tony J. Neal
Fiery Crash: Facebook
White Girl Shopping: Everywhere Now
Eye Sore: Fattony
Carrie the Manager starring "Angry Young Woman" by Tony F. @ Wellsphere
The Anti-Nazi from Facebook, curious who took this photo
Adam Pitts = Adam Pitts
Black Cat Friendship Image: Animals Background
Interviewer: Anthony Bila; Tumblr
Girl With Skirt: 83,379,356 different women to chose from
Wheelchair: Taken at the real life Bowls Department Store with the actual name on the back by Carney Shea
Fish Shorts designed by Chaps, photo by Carney Shea
Chain of Command Image Created by Tony J. Neal
Incompetent Writers Cover = The Truman Show, Starring Jim Carrey
The Truman Show Written by Andrew Niccol, Directed by Peter Weir
South Carolina Hand Washing Video: Written, Directed, & Starring Tony J. Neal;
Music in Video: "Two Tub Man" by The Dictators
Jennifer Lopez Image taken at actual Bowls Department Store by Carney Shea
Huge Group of White Girls: Pulsarmedia
Polar Bear Mauling Woman: Craig Bellamy
Typical Frame: By Prinz, For Sale @ Amazon.com
Rothgaurd Frame, same frame, image altered by Tony J. Neal
Rothgaurd: From Myspace (Not real name)
Section 5 Cover starring Gwyneth, from: Meredith and the New Yorkie
Prophecy 14 Cover by Gothicmama
Hello Kitty: Seriously, this shit is everywhere!
Duck Dynasty Mats? by Welcome Company  (I was busted trying to take a picture of it myself)
Taxidermy White Girl: Maurizio Cattelan
Fire Truck & Ambulance in front of actual Bowls Department Store by Tony J. Neal
News Video starring Carney Shea, Written by Tony J. Neal
Bowls Department Store Sales Ad: Designed & Created by Tony J. Neal;
Sales Ad Images from Google but severely altered from original
Riot Image by: Africa Young Voices
Full Moon Image by The Thundering Herd
Dress image by Tony J. Neal; dress supplied by Carney Shea
"Beautiful spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds" by Albert Einstein.

"In one single moment your whole life can change" from Dry Your Eyes by The Streets, by Mike Skinner
"The Yellow Pearl is upon us now, we must fight back" from Yellow Pearl written by Phillip Lynott

Section VIII Soundtrack Listing:


1. Public Enemy
"Lost At Birth" 3:50

Apocalypse 91... The Enemy Strikes Black
1991

2. Primal Scream
"Exterminator" 5:50

XTRMNTR
2000

3. My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult
"Sex on Wheelz" 5:00

Sexplosion!
1991

4. Marilyn Manson
"I Don't Like The Drug But The Drugs Like Me" 5:03

Mechanical Animals
1998

5. 31Knots
"Sanctify" 3:16

The Days and Nights of Everything Anywhere
2007

6. Eat Skull
"Dead Horses" 2:35

III
2013

7. Alice Cooper
"Ballad of Dwight Fry" 6:33

Love It to Death
1971

8. Pissed Jeans
"Chain Worker" 2:53

Honeys
2013

9. The Pop Group
"We Are Time" 6:29

Y
1979

10. Captain Beefheart
"Ashtray Heart" 3:25

Doc at the Radar Station
1980

11. The Veldt
"I Couldn't Care Less" 5:51

Afrodisiac
1994

12. Moose
"XYZ" 5:04

...XYZ
1992

13. Judas Priest
"Victim of Changes" 7:54

Sad Wings of Destiny
1976


14. Ladyhawk
"Night You're Beautiful" 3:03

Shots
2008

15. Ennio Morricone
"Matto, Caldo, Soldi, Morto & Girotondo" 3:23

Vergogna Schifosi
1969

16. Silver Jews
"The Moon is the Number 18" 3:41

Starlite Walker
1994

17. Popol Vuh
"Oh Wie Nah Ist Der Weg Hinab" 4:39

Letzte Tage- Letzte Nacht
1976

18. Portishead
"Glory Box" 5:07

Dummy
1994

19. The Raincoats
"No One's Little Girl" 4:30

Moving
1984

20. On And On
"War Is Gone" 4:24

Give In
2013


21. Songs: Ohia
"Farewell Transmission" 7:22

The Magnolia Electric Co
2003

22. Walter Franco
"Mamãe D'água" 4:14

Revolver
1975

23. Quasar
"The Little Prince" 5:34

Man Coda
1981

24. Current 93
"Moonlight, You Will Say" 5:16

Of Ruine or Some Blazing Starre
1994

25. Sebadoh
"Limb by Limb" 2:17

III
1991

26. Philip Lynott
"Yellow Pearl" 4:06

Solo in Soho
1980

27. Neu!
"Super 16" 3:39

Neu! 2
1973

All Sections Written, Designed, and Music Compiled by Tony J. Neal


©2013

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