" he didn't know there was a movie of the same name when he spontaneously sang it.

He bored of pop music when he lost his sense of smell encountering the terror of AIDS + patchouli in Madonna's "Like A Prayer" cassette. In a car while his parents party in typical jazzy fashion, he reworked himself into Rated PG and wrote his signature anthem: "I'm Rated PG, I can rap as you can see, rapping all the time, see my voice, hear my poise, I'm so glad, I'm a fad, and I'm rad.. I can keep on rapping if you keep on clapping." Nobody clapped however, and when he checked out a book "How To Write Rap Lyrics" from the Seattle Public Library since Compuserve hadn't even hit yet. Focusing on his writing: detective stories based on "The Naked Gun" (L-O-S-E-R-S-8) and explanations for why cat food is so disgusting filled the void for a time, but in 1992 he was given a $20 classical acoustic guitar missing a tuning peg, but "Nevermind" had just made an impact so he spit in the microphone of his boombox and his improvisations were rendered in analog distortion and he (Grate) made his first (to date) grunge album "Pop Ramen." Pre-teen and teenage tapes began amassing, even Bjork would not top "Shrimp Trawler"'s evil until "Mouths Cradle" a decade later. LSD helped him return to pop but with a fresh perspective.. he also began his forays into slowed-down tractionesque massacres of repellently familiar tunes, Mario 2 or "Rosemary's Baby" would have been the first in 1996.

His primitive multitracking (dubbing one tape to another and recording into the internal mic on his Mansion-calibre HiFi) led to early classics such as "Charisma Factory," "Alone In A Lighthouse," "Pangaea Jokes" and "The Spider Factory." the only ones he regrets are his covers of "House Of The Rising Sun" (truly troubling future foe in San Luis Obispo with its off-key singing) and John Lennon's "Mother" (too close to home). In 1998 he took psilocybin and got to use a 4-track for the first time and recorded a "rock opera" about the darkness behind boy band machinery he imagined and attempted to show the secrets of, this was "Miami Beach Sleaze." Puff Daddy gives them their first weed, celery stalk acquaintance-making gets them up upon the holy altar. The tape was taken however, and dissatisfaction with not getting to hear the results of his ritualistic recording session fueled a desire to make something better, to replace the void even though writing was his profession and music just a hobby.

While working at his dry-witted aunt's "ethnic art + clothing" store a coworker g

Journalism controversy + lack of success in getting his book of visionary prose-poetry ("The Fevered Sea") published led to a collision with realisticism, + so he left NY and returned to WA basements (prison for him by day, paradise for legends at night who would do ((seemingly)) anything to reach "the" location when he actually had magic he chose to rarely use. "Pet Cancer," a song depicting the fatal abandon of high school shooting spree trailblazers, was revived and became the title track of his "debut" album. He celebrated the cast Full House, married death metal chops to loops of Beethoven, and covered Robert Johnson on ecstasy (but failed to sell his soul to the Devil to get the desired results). Aside from that trip ("Space Gods" also, and "All Art Feuds," maxing out on crumbs + toys + milking every scrap of incentive from rarely come-across chemicals became a self-lacerating work ethic which only Thundertruck Bowie-era "heathen" would liken to shamanism (as welcome a label as ''poetic' or 'ironic' since the lyrics are primarily multi-leveled jokes from an autistic comedian who can create new worlds to house each fragment and bind them together into dimensions that could only grow more inviting or more terrifying depending on the civilization's current climate. mountain salts was only used once: for the Italian-style guitar on the title track (table-side harassment). Beer was bought illegally for "Jizz Rat," a "hardcore" noise tantrum, but only several benzos could have calmed him after he went to a screening of "Chelsea Girls" and had a traumatic breakdown, possibly a reaction to "subliminal messages" (which to date he's seen only in "The Wall") regarding personal issues with Warhol ) ///alone for decades watching the "filters" etc.. unfold. Rather than suicide he recorded "Wasted Life," "Buffalo Bin" he was mad at nature: among his top 8 favorite flavors.

Upon return to NY friends in the art/fashion/music/press scene steered him towards a record deal with Momus, a Scotsman braver by the belt+buckle than a hundred holocausts in a heartbeat. JK, for sure, and under his guidance he was forced to abandon "Philip" as an artist name and since he had nobody to play with a band name like "The Nuclear Habitz" what have you would have seemed showy so " he accepted "Phiiliip" with 4 i's thinking what did it matter (not recognizing the innate limits of the antic sensibility, but what of no canonical precedent or cultural signifiers to tie it to a time and place (presuming, irrationally of course, that one were trapped in the past and forced to develop their aesthetic using the few cultural highlights that seemed they were made by the same civilization ((in Philip's case that was Mercury Rev, Boards of Canada, Harmony Korine, Sonic Youtht, Dennis Cooper, Royal Trux, Bobby Conn, Aphex Twin - etc but as close to his demands as if so to possibility of rivaling work from the future ((which he could encounter only in dreams or generate in his mind but since no one could hear these transmissions and broadcasts and since it was ss))). Bitter rants in the (nurse says: WOW! HEALTHY!) similar vein became common as his life turned into a cheap (aesthetically, but not resource-wise by a long shot) parody of an Ira Levin novel. When he finally got to record a follow-up album (if we ignore "Icicles + Spike Sculptures" which with its 7 copies in circulation surely we need not summon or quote ("For all the fine weavers who make us sing, could never steal the Jesus/Satan ring, and I know..." still not sure what this means but it sounds important!!!) due to overfamiliarity, Philip never really got drugs when he did he just worked and he couldnt w/o and they couldn't w/ (to share, you see.... venture c. not 'charity adventure! let's go wait in line and pretend like we're as cultured as giraffes in the 1870s!'

since the music industry was unwilling(able) to accommodate Philip (no bullfighter falling for his simplistic equation: Pavement + Soft Pink Truth equals: promising????) so he turned to the art world and thought the (trifling) studio time and (pointless) manufacturing of the (undistributable) discs through a gallery show that ended up being financed by Deitch. the art was not meant to be (wholly) representational since Philip didn't like being alive in a human body but had to respect his friends in art + fashion and it was fun for what it was if weirdly invasive and a portion of the art being confrontational to the "muse" in (anti)nature. he didn't have a guitar pick, he backtothefuture'd his hand and bled all over his hendrix white strat--as though it were already overfamiliar, like looking at scotch makes you want to puke if it happened in a wood-paneled room, the night before, still so sore... although never critically reviewed Philip can stand by some of it like say "Just Bail" his 3-pill revenge rock with its tri-leveled-meanings "If the Leo is Tardy he fronts just like you". //Magic Ear" or iPod takeovers it was hard for him to towel-throw for show since his body might display fleshlike-qualities and raging naked only works with loin cloths and a storied sword... let the rays shine white from the top of the mountain to the death of every car dealership and their neighbors as well. they have forty-three minutes to get to a landfill and hide themselves as well as can be expected or their heads start popping. these games would be fun for higher powers to try out once established that a culture had reached its maximum potential and was only going to 'it's all downhill bunny slope pretending to be triple black diamond etc... after Philip lost his ability to coexist with what still purported to be life he began reaching back to memories concepts feelings etc of being a creator and a destroyer.. but w/ no powers or resources or support to speak of the novelty of "the end" seemingly took sway, insiduous, new for sissy snakes and their pissed caretakers but old hatrack for anyone who'd been through this lamborghini labyrinth before.. Philip was reluctant to relent since in his opinion this scripted existence had (ANd then he was WIREKID and made 3-9 albums in a few months +6-11 singles and it was all free like everyone in the chamber of chains and skeletons dont rustle + ghosts dont screech + diamonds aren't irreversible: crush one: arouse all. pills are for horses: neigh! neigh! hay is for camels + water is for salt-swallowers, the seats of a plane contain all the survival a surveyor needs, a crash is liike candy: you cant keep eating until youre not your opposite.. what are you? a sailor with no bib for lobster day snackshots also rapping is for those with elbows: nudge others or become cracked claws: GO ES WELL WITH BUTTER!!!