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Makunouchi Bento/Stray Beads

Stray Beads

Stray Beads

Makunouchi Bento

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Tracks info

01 Makunouchi Bento - What We Inhale in the Crepuscule 01:20
02 Makunouchi Bento - Robbed by the Spring Sun 01:20
03 Makunouchi Bento - Drunk Russian Train Story 01:20
04 Makunouchi Bento - Hell Is Other Animals 01:20
Label: Self Released
Format: Digital
Release Date: 2019.04.16

[EN]

 

Stray Beads (Crawling Along)

 

I’m schlepping my 2 wicked-heavy suitcases, trudging towards the giant tin up ahead. Just 23 platforms left between here and bliss. I’m panting and I can hear the train huffing and puffing in response, like an old, pipeless calliope wagon, getting ready to leave. As I pick up the pace, I can’t help noticing the only two parallel strips of clean pavement – two shallow grooves left behind by my suitcases as they scrape the dirt off the unfriendly platform. They’ll know I was here! No one else has suitcases like these, and the gauge between them is the exact, unique width of my shoulders.

 

And… Hop on the train, Shane! Fifty ways to lose your luggage. Dog Bless! The big whale almost missed me. Gulp! He’s swallowed me! It’s gonna be fine now. I have a hard time finding my seat by solving the riddle on my ticket. This time, fate has given me seat number “6 geese a-laying and a one-touch speed dial”. I sit down on the seat covered in Carpathian sloth-mouse (Mus Iners Carpatinus) fur and close my eyes so I can open my mouth and take a deep breath. We’re on schedule, I keep telling myself. This hasty conclusion bounces off the walls of my mind cavern, and the mischievous echo replies with a question: “What schedule, man?! Fick-ick-k!” I choose not to panic on an empty stomach and I just give a dry answer: “The K Schedule.” That must be it!

 

I feel my own atoms being pulled forward – the train is leaving. Time to go over the checklist, to make sure I’m all here. I too am among those responding to the roll call. I open my suitcases and find my countless packs of plain biscuits still there, together with the condensation water collector, a contraption consisting in a dream catcher, a red plastic funnel, and a 400-ml bottle. “That’s all you need!”, Experience smugly whispers to me privately.

 

To kill some time, I start playing a card game with 3 Austrian garden gnomes sitting next to me. I don’t keep count of my cards and lose biscuits way too easily. Biscuits are good for absolutely anything! That’s what they should be teaching in every prestigious school and university. (Aren’t I smart.)

 

At the far end of the train car, an old man is killing rats with a large fork. That’s one smart old man! It says on the back of the ticket too: “For every 20 rats killed and handed over to General Control, you get a small half of 1 litre of “Alexei Petrovich” vodka (made in the Russian Federation) and a small sandwich.” Meanwhile, I, Robinson Cruiser from Plain Biscuit Island, am gazing in admiration at this valiant amateur exterminator. I deeply admire the ambitious and dramatically envy industrious householders!

 

Several impish brats are wildly riding some deaf mute pigs on the aisle, yelling “hey mister, we’re rowing!” I respond with a courteous smile and stuff lumps of biscuits with water in my nostrils and ears, to escape my embarrassment. Nerve training. Everyone around here is always acting like there’s nothing ever going on! We suddenly go into a tunnel and the drafts instantly put out all the candles. Or maybe it’s someone’s birthday… It’s always the same season inside the train, one perpetual night of hyperlucid dreams. This makes me think of Burroughs riding a rickshaw pulled by two Kerouacs in a fresh soap bubble.

 

We exit the tunnel and the Attendant comes to relight the candles. I ask him how long before we get to our final destination. He hesitates, keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and moaningly confesses that we’ve accidentally entered a maze of Moebius strips and, according to his estimations, we’ll be arriving in Pardu-blue-bice* in 20 years. I suddenly embrace the freeing consciousness state of a pocket calculator: if I play it low and throw the winning gnomes out the window, I can halve the time! (I saw that in a Polish movie, though that one was about a hot air balloon). And, if all fails, at least I’ve got my biscuits…

 

* Pardubice, Czech Republic

 

28th of March 2019
by Felix Petrescu (Makunouchi Bento)
Translated by Cristian (REDLance Translations [Web])

 

[RO]

 

Stray Beads* (sau lunga călătorie cu CFR-ul)

 

Îmi târâi cele 2 geamantane nepământesc de mari către conserva de metal din depărtare. Mai am 23 de peroane și o să fie țuț, fasole cu costiță. Răsuflu greu și aud cum trenul, pe roată de plecare, îmi răspunde în contratimp cu gâfâitul lui de organ bisericos văduvit de țevi. Grăbesc pasul și nu pot să nu observ cum geamantanele mele lasă singurele 2 culoare paralele de curățenie, săpând un șanț superficial pe peronul neprietenos. O să se știe că am fost pe aici! Nimeni nu are asemenea geamantane și distanța dintre ele e exact distanța UNICă dintre umerii mei.

 

Popa sus! Laika înalțare. Dog Bless! Era să mă rateze balena. Gulp! M-a înghițit! M-am liniștit. Îmi găsesc cu greu locul rezolvând ghicitoarea de pe bilet. De data asta destinul vrea să am locul “6 ingineri nefamiliști și o prepeliță”. Mă așez pe bancheta tapițată cu blană de șoarece-leneș carpatin (mus iners-carpatinus) și închid ochii că să pot deschide gură să respir adânc. Totul e în grafic, îmi repet. Concluzia pripită se lovește de pereții cavernei minții mele și ecoul hoț îmi răspunde cu o întrebare: “care grafic bă?! fick ick k”. Aleg să nu intru în panică pe stomacul gol și mă mulțumesc cu un răspuns sec: “Graficul K”. Asta trebuie să fie!

 

Simt cum ceva trage atomii înainte și o luăm din loc. E momentul să-mi fac inventarul, să văd dacă sunt întru totului tot aici. Mă număr și eu printre cei care și apoi răspund la apel. Deschid geamantanele și constat că nenumăratele pachete de biscuiți simpli sunt tot acolo, împreună cu instalația de adunat apă prin condensare, instalație ce constă într-un dream catcher, o pâlnie roșie din plastic și o sticlă de 400ml. “Atâta ai nevoie!”, îmi șoptește doar mie, fudulă, Experiența.

 

Ca să omor din timp, intru într-un joc de cărți cu 3 pitici de grădină austrieci de pe bancheta alăturată. Nu țin socoteala cărților și pierd mult prea ușor din biscuiți. Biscuiții sunt buni la absolut orice! Asta ar trebui să se învețe în orice școală și orice facultate care se respectă. (Bine că sunt eu dăștept.)

 

Un bătrân omoară șobolani cu o furculiță mare în celălalt capăt de vagon. Nu-i prost moșu’! Scrie și pe spatele biletului: “La 20 șobolani omorâți și predați la Supra-Control primiți o jumătate mică de 1L vodkă “Alexei Petrovici Maresiev” (prod. Federația Rusă) și un senvici mic.”. Eu, Robinson Sisoeul din Insula de Biscuiți Simpli îl privesc cu admirație pe vajnicul deratizator de ocazie. Îi admir profund pe ambițioși și îi invidiez dramatic pe gospodari!

 

Niște draci de copii călăresc energic porci surdo-muți pe culoar, urlând “uite nene, vâslimmm!”. Zâmbesc protocolar și îmi îndes cocoloașe de biscuiți cu apă în nas și urechi ca să scap de jena din situație. Dresură de nervi. Toată lumea se poartă aici de parcă nu se întâmplă niciodată nimic! Intrăm brusc într-un tunel și toate lumânările se sting instantaneu de la curenții de aer. Sau poate e ziua de naștere a cuiva… În tren e mereu un singur anotimp și o noapte cu vise hiperlucide. Asta mă duce cu gândul la o ricșă cu un pleș trasă de doi patapievici intr-un nor proaspăt de Dero.

 

Ieșim din tunel și Controlorul vine să reaprindă lumânările. Îl întreb cât mai avem până la destinația finală. Se codește, se bâțâie de pe un picior pe altul și scremut îmi mărturisește că am intrat din greșeală într-un labirint format din benzi ale lui Moebius și că el estimează că o să ajungem la Pardubais** în 20 de ani. Brusc îmbrațișez starea de conștiință eliberatoare a unui calculator de buzunar: dacă arunc mișelește piticii câștigători pe geam, scurtez timpul la jumate! (am vazut asta într-un film polonez, ce-i drept, era cu un balon). Chiar dacă nu-mi reușește schema, are băiatu’ biscuiți…

 

* “stray beads” sau “lost marbles” (vezi Google)
** Pardubice, Republica Cehă

 

28 Martie 2019
de Felix Petrescu (Makunouchi Bento)

 

[EN] _ Bonus Translation

 

Stray Beads (or the long journey on CFR*)

 

Now dragging along the unearthly heaviness of my two suitcases towards the distant tin can. Still 23 platforms to go and it’ll be just right, kidney beans & bacon. Breathing heavily I hear the train, with rail wheels ready to run, panting his staccato answers like a churchly organ missing his pipes. Hastening my steps, I can’t help noticing how my two suitcases leave behind two parallel rows of clean ground, digging a shallow furrow into the unfriendly platform. They’ll ALL know I was passing through here! Nobody has this kind of suitcase and the distance between them is the exact UNIQUE distance between my shoulders.

 

Up with the parson! Laika’s Ascension. Dog Bless! The whale nearly missed me, Gulp! It swallowed me! Now I am at ease. I get to my seat after many trials, solving the riddle on my ticket. This time fate wants me to have the seat number “6 engineers from the projects and a quail”. I sit on the bench upholstered with Carpathian gray-lazy-dormouse (mus iners-carpatinus) shiny fur and close my eyes so that I can open my mouth to take a deep breath. “Everything fits the Graph”, I repeatedly tell myself. A hasty conclusion hits the walls of my cavernous mind and the thieving echo answers with a question: “what Graph(ick) Sir?! fick ick K”. I chose not to have a panic attack on an empty stomach and content myself with a dry answer: “the K Graph”. That has to be it!

 

Feels now that somebody pulls ahead the atoms so we get moving. It’s the right moment to do the inventory – to check if the entirety of me is still here. I count myself in and pick up the call of the bugle. Opening my suitcases, I realize those countless cracker packages are still there, beside my water condensation unit, consisting of a dream catcher, a cheapo red plastic funnel and a 400ml bottle. “This is all you need, boy!”- Experience whispers to me with a certain swagger.

 

Killing time, I start playing a game of cards with 3 Austrian garden gnomes sitting on the bench just across from me. I don’t keep track of my cards so I lose too many crackers much too easily. Crackers are good for absolutely everything! That’s what they should teach in every school and every self-respecting university. (Oh goodie, I’m such a smartass).

 

An old geezer slays rats with his huge fork at the other end of the wagon. Not stupid at all – the bugger! On the back of his ticket it is actually written: “for 20 rats killed and handed over to the hyper-inspector you get a small 1L “Alexei Petrovici Maresiev” vodka (a product of the Russian Federation) and a small sandwich”. I, the Robinson Sisoes from the Unsalted Sugar-free Cracker Island, peeps with high regard at the occasional valiant rat catcher. I profoundly admire the ambitious and I dramatically envy all dexterous fellow men!

 

Spry devilish children ride deaf-mute pigs on the corridor, screaming “look mistaaa, we row!” With a punctilious smile, I heave lumps of wet crackers into my nose and ears so as to spare myself of the embarrassment of circumstance. Nerve training. Everyone acts like nothing ever happens! Suddenly, we enter a tunnel and all candles go off instantly as air currents start streaming in. Or maybe it’s just a passenger’s birthday… The train has one distinct season, aeternal night of HD lucid dreaming. My mind soon follows a rickshaw with a peterson pulled by two zizeks into a Dero detergent cloud.

 

As soon as we exit the tunnel, the ticket inspector lights up the candles again. I ask him how long till the final destination. He frets over it standing on one leg, then the other, painfully confessing that we mistakenly entered a labyrinth formed by interlacing Moebius strips and that, on his last count, we will make it to Pardubeyes** in about 20 years. Suddenly I embrace the enlightened consciousness state of a pocket calculator: if I dastardly throw the winning gnomes out of the window, I’ll shorten the time by half! (I watched this happen in an old Polish movie, although truth be said, it involved a zeppelin). Even if the cunning manoeuvre doesn’t work, I’ve still got my crackers intact…

 

* The Romanian National Railways
** Pardubice, Czech Republic

 

28th of March 2019
Felix Petrescu (Makunouchi Bento)
Translated by Dr. Ștefan Tiron [Twitter, Instagram]
Edited by Miru Mercury

 

Notes

 

Stereo + Binaural (3D Sound)
Please use headphones for best sound experience!
Download the EP for full 24bit 48kHz audio quality.

Our submission to the “Mixage Fou édition #10″ contest: 2 x 80-seconds stereo tracks [1,2] + 2 x 80-seconds binaural tracks [3,4], made of nothing but the field recordings they provided, passed through the Makunouchi Bento imagination.

Credits

 

All tracks written, produced, mixed and mastered by Felix Petrescu and Valentin Toma (Makunouchi Bento)

 

Artwork by Santiago J. Franzani aka Antipirina [YouTube, Facebook, Twitter]