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Formality Jerne​-​Site

by Jura

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1.
So I must still mean something to you 'cause you wake up beside me on an airplane and ask me: “How do I stop the car?" I wanna say: “Don't worry, from where you sit there's really nothing you can do” but I have to be my old self again and kiss you and tell you where we are Float! the plan isn’t weak the debris in a creek passes over an old, submerged vessel a two-faced rover Someone’s lifework is swelling under me I don’t quite know where to look (mmh we don't know anything) or how to look at it correctly, I'd rather ask you: "With the three years between us will you stay put?" instead it seems that you’re older performing to the bends ahead Float! the plan isn’t weak (is this our get-away chance?) the debris in a creek (tell me in advance!) passes over (babe just lean in and an old, submerged vessel search the stream for luck) a two-faced rover (just gotta trust that it won't clog) (promise we won’t get stuck?) And so the security would last longer than we thought let alone the wait for vacancy in a packed sky (an entire rugby team black flies walking around in midair backfire on the spot at disconnected, pure speed) I thought I lingered for a minute to drop dead or drop up Well youth lacks much of life, we’re living proof I rush to revenge the second I lose my patience (you point at timid, nervous to wait for a concession hierarchies through all you declare) just to backfire on the spot, (let's wait for it) and kiss you just to wake you up (let's just wait for it) now wake up Float! the plan isn’t weak (is this our get-away chance?) the debris in a creek (tell me in advance!) passes over (babe just lean in and an old, submerged vessel search the stream for luck) a two-faced rover (just gotta trust that it won't clog) (promise we won’t get stuck?)
2.
In a moment of strange devotion you’ve packed to make it far painted fresh numbers on the car there is no bargaining Epsom maps out ideas all over the backseat so you can focus on the driving Once out on Landmass Parkway we’ll be back in the eighties again yuppies in their spyders
 hardships resting in their cases
 striking by next to the carpool lane listen to how the gear shifts flutter strangely unchanged rustling in the shuttles is the same late age At the front of your mind
 bright upon the reservoir 
a sound jolts the tall yellow 
in the tall green pink
 Amherst comes backing up the horn section so you can focus on the singing Once heading into c sharp we’ll be back in the forties again as I ask for a marker 
a sheet turn wets a page;
 you’re checking the score for universal dick these movements full of light will only make your downtime doubt stick you’re powered open by rehearsing for the same late age In the far corner of an Italian diner the four of us sit down as prophetic witches we’re dealt concert-like attention but you don’t look at me you've gone looking into things within yourself so you can focus on the eating Once pulling out from there the next forty years pass too slowly again same old wowing, ciao’ing,
 smiles pulled off for a wage, 
while pizza bakers in the back spit in the dough and waiters, ‘bout to carry out, sneeze in the minestrone shredding on the graters is the same late age
3.
He tries 
(The fighting and the down-tearing were from him trying); “Sein, I’d like to dress you like red wine” he says later then “Sein, I’d like to wear you”
 He tells her how borrowing money from a person
 that he hardly knows used to get him off
 He dealt in academia 
He also touched upon combat
 He even took a job once “Oh but you met me too early” he says “I was a startled man before you Too anxious to follow up 
Drowning just standing up before you Dying just trying to” “What if..-“ 
In August she tours an outdoor Tucson venue with the choir
 During that night’s Sicut Cervus there is an experimental changing of the guard Color draws so far inward 
“Circuits serve us” sings in her insect-like
 He’ll only love me when the lights are off At this hour at diplomatic pink (just fire yourself) 
the cypresses shed wild lint
 Boleros mark sopranos Looks like written in their print is “Sein” She reads it, and in the reading of it she grasps at herself from behind “Oh come touch base with me, rare beauty!” he said He was a startled man before her
 Drowning just standing up before her Dying just trying Oh but you met me too early” he said (I don’t want that money) He was a startled man before her Too anxious to follow up 
Drowning just standing up before her Dying to try to follow suit “I want 
helicopters in good weather 
always either leaving or returning to Arizona”
 To think that Chelsea Manning sparked the things coming for her Strangio on a rhetorical roll in court
 Well, there’s a dryness to the spark Not what you’d think of as magic (maybe just fire yourself) 
But then he had her hormones land in Her unprecedented darts 
like sparrows upon a zoo – you know how some symptoms start? How they occur in waiting rooms? 

Oh come on, don’t you know it? He was a startled man before her 
 Drowning just standing up before her Dying just trying to “For how long will you be waiting?” he said He was a startled man before her 
 Drowning just standing up before her Dying just trying to “How long until I’m ready?” he said (I don’t want that money) 
He was a startled man before her Too anxious to follow up 
Drowning just standing up before her Dying to try to (no I don’t want that money)
4.
What is it that makes Nixon and Khrushchev look up from their plates the night the ship is brought to a standstill in the Transatlantic vacuum?* The saucings are ready, tele-religious Crew and waiters were radically quick “Don’t you agree?” says Dick, digging into New England clam chowder, “So much happens in French and German, only, it won’t reach me” (*If only you’d convince me that the brake is right in front of me!*) Khrush glares down at the clams and bites his grey lower lip to think: If I had those brought to me raw, I'd rinse them Then I’d pull them out of cold water, riddled But then I’d stop to think for twenty years after a minute, and I’d fail to serve them in this Cold War kitchen Now bowls arrive with a continental meal: watercress makes for goodnight salad and distills the starfish in Dick’s breath What is it that makes Nixon and Khrushchev look up from their plates as bureaus of light from gentle Jupiter come trailing west on the endless waters to dry-bathe on the deck? “You sure let the economy float free to self-inflate” says Khrush with a scarecrow smile growing harder “But – what was that? Good ideas in French and German don’t exactly circulate?” (*How can you let yourself manipulate? The brake is right in front of you!*) For a second Dick drifts off back home, spends Halloween on the red carpet, then bites his gray lower lip to gain himself back World leader hunger hurls against the ship’s balcony Khrush draws a shy, internal bath Kate and Sammy made it through the separation by sharing material between Texas and Tuscany Now wine and sandwiches are presented on the table: Pinot-Botticelli – here's to European users A toast to the arts straight out of the galley ——————————- *I bought the painting in a gallery
5.
Dear Amephrey, I met someone at the end of a dirt road on a hill overlooking the coastal forest He was leaning on his scooter Mild scent of gas from an old Honda Zoomer My skin was tinted green by the glow of his eyes Minding my reactions now, I think I’m calling for a tutor Dear Ontario, this year my heart went bankrupt I’m outgrowing eye contact You need to confide in a stronger stranger But prepare to see! Frisk all the explanatory models under your tongue Prepare to bring your own narrative in danger Amephrey, I’ve heard that queer peers help each other to some sense of superiority Introduce me to your kin, the bold Nobody’s ever gonna reward my bros for their unsurpassed self-control For clinging to definedness, to one aesthetic throughout years foretold No Ontario, I won’t let you fetishize simplicity in peace I go to sleep so close to electricity I surf on my tongue in its shadow How dare you speak of the sensibility that you and your bros deem taboo just because it’s inaccessible to you? But Amephrey, I looked back at him! Out of that handsome place he could have made the air race across our skin. Be nice, oh but be honest I’m merely some corporation’s attempt at being human I mean you kind of are the machinist here You must have some advice But Ontario, which tutor would I be to you? A queer parent rooting for you at an easy distance? Or a soon-to-be accomplice pioneering your new-paradigm pleasures? This binary inquiry and the mutiny laughing at it makes me anxious I find myself reduced to appreciative features Amephrey, why this need to know? A process hasn’t got to be guided by the uncovering of what could go missing Oh but let your questions be physical I’m the longing tech in a provincial park – listen; So open to my life renewing – for decisions reaching out from your nervous system No Ontario, I say risk the confident quirk at the buffet then! This person offered you carrots, and now you’re wondering what to make of it Then risk sitting down Here's to the art of spotting a dick balancing a crowd Here’s to staying around to remind his ulterior motives to come out and have at it
6.
The given institution of coupling hums from inside the hotel lobby bars Pick up lines by ruby red musicians Heavy, beige lounging Tropes of the dim lighting Shame’s kept up his promised weapon-waving 'cause I’ve been crossing into mobility To all things out here Tremendous bees droned in the violins Why not film me while you’re waiting for the light? While you’re held up by a ruby red instrument you’re falling short; NSA rigged You’re shedded when the strings kick in All my crushes of the year This is where I've taken them Cornered in ensemble fever Corrupted I’ll help It’ll help Oh but to what generic extent can two trans girls flicker through ninety nighttime burpees? Are we just picking up the loop, the meridian? The drop-down-dead defeat, and a leap of win in every rep Professional suspicion living in the river inspecting passes on this economy encompassing but a forward stand Oh a forward stand
7.
When J gave birth to Jill: periodic, poetic tremor in a red and gilded night our Colorado kitchen cohesion When F gave birth to Frieden: soundless blitz galore Around us pop culture made a vow to a normative desire drawing in like water color percussion Jill would soon start claiming it to be lethal to read up from her default red: “Somebody dug too deep on me, Frieden!” but Frieden would stop her right there: “Radiation is everyone’s child We’re seismic We’re charged Burning out there in the landscape You’ve strained to contain but don’t you think that your metallics would have risen up either way?” When S gave birth to Sunny: a heart open to new humor in an ill-gendered, polite teenager The air shone like fire against common, comic attempts on a night run Frieden would soon start frequenting the horses at the Brintpole-Phixer Junction to race out on Hotmail and disappear in the hills “I’m running hot on the inside, Sunny!” but Sunny would get her urgency: “How to free us, really When practicing singing I thought: savouring this fourth – that I can do! Note by note if felt like I modified sheer world presence Retrieving my tongue made the panic erode” Sunny would soon start yelling the blood work results through the basement bathroom door American English rises to the occasion like a verdict: “Somebody called my name on me, Jill!” To Jill it sometimes sounds like down here a phone is ringing It rings true calling out to the fields behind the stable I really have strained to contain Could Fahrenheit and Hotmail come with me through puberty again?
8.
I’m at this dim-lighted conference in the back in the dark when his hips reel him in from somewhere “Listen – I think she’s leaving archaeological ground” His attempt of whisper is rare “She wouldn’t want us to get too comfy, would she?” His grin past my ear and mouth spills down and melts the microphone in me “Drink this” Then slips away to get me one more vodka-jam tea He’s come around again, “Why is she still so angsty up there? What’s the threat? The devil went away with the smilodon!” Last year he’d say there’s no way he’d consider big game, but now – now the knives want forth; saber teeth are shutting on this salon Is it a lovesick erection roaming in from the patio? (Is this the place he comes to forget love?) His grin at my ear and mouth briefly but surely revisits the buffet in me “Eat this” Then slips me half a pickle for my vodka-jam tea Up on the stage feelings arrest Erica – grey as sketches of great precision What waited for you here last year, moderator girl? Darkened cinematics – we agreed to stand clear of the same smirks, but then division set out for our corny nerves, and only she afforded to turn down the lasciviously catty Is this the place he comes to associate freely? His grin nears my ear and mouth Chatter from the innermost cavelike washrooms “You are not a man, are you, silly?” and I tilt like a straw in a drink under his wit acknowledging The devil went to be a man The shape of a pedestrian An Abraham or Nick Musical authority Nothing too abstruse or shrill seemed to do the trick
9.
Last Sunday the priestess’s headset dropped in and out of amplification; right through the speaker up above the altar the sermon was exchanged to rhythmic thumps touring out upon communion; with the battery run dry, with the heartbeat of the holy spirit morse coding on my eardrum I thought, as an essential rule of thumb, is this that ultimate, sought-after relation? technically speaking more or less is this how intimate it gets? Some gazes stir me, "What can you give to me? How can you overthrow me?” he says and throws himself onto me – provider we slit our palms and shake hands our lungs close by, close to pressuring the rhyme his gaze stirs me – later on, none of this will enter my vessels where our vessels met injected into him, I tried to decipher is this that ultimate, sought-after relation? technically speaking is this wide open blood cells? more or less is this how intimate it gets? (In and out of cold hands, our lungs: I am not blind your fingers are lines they have pointed towards feeling, they sometimes bend and hold around whatever they find)
10.
Hail, Jura! Conjurer Strips of culture appear among strips of greenish, brownish – breathing automatically Slick obscurant! I see your remote controlled bird parades; vultures fixed on a short-lived nature's punctual machinery Heavyweight, Jura! Lets a pack of robot canines into the woods: camera eyes, airbrushed joints, glossy limbs: movement prediction within these carriers My heart beats along the road – our ghosts that dared to look up In a murky meadow they met the people of the area Upscale, Jura! And from the moment of evolving the trump-card absurdity: hail the human intelligence! Measured by measures of its own Leading some minds to know how to put on a show of force, potential purgatory And how to proclaim knowledge sovereign of all living Entitlement’s keystone Short-term, Jura! If intelligence was measured in the time span of survival then we’re outrun by the flora and the fauna that so far have powered us Then we’re by far the simplest species ever to have walked the globe, Jura In the middle of our love for each other's thinking here, Jura: breathing in your male cowardice Male, Jura! And then they're meeting you later right where product meets face outside on the back stairs of a hardware store in your birth region I dare not think, it roars much It gets silent here at night Whoever dares to whisper my ears are ready to listen

about

Jura introduces a highly-anticipated playground of carefully sculpted characters, plots and lessons. A fictional land opens its doors and roof to us. A trio of trans kids run amok in rural suburbia. Various sorcerers of the wild future enter the scene on some songs; on others, the mind is cast to sun-drenched drives and journeys of yesteryear. At the heart is a pop sensibility: yearning, reflections, vanity, guesswork, hope.

credits

released February 11, 2022

all music composed by Jura

all music produced and mixed by Jura and Malthe Fischer

all lyrics written by Jura with the exception of the following sentences in ‘Amephrey and Ontario’ borrowed from ‘Freudian Electric: Deep Dreams’ (2018) by Bertram von Undall:

“He was leaning on his scooter, an old Honda Zoomer.”
“(...)mild scent of gas(...)”.
“He looked back at me.”
“My skin was tinted green by the glow of his eyes.”
“The air raced across my skin.”
“(...)at the end of a dirt road (...) overlooking a coastal forest. “
“I mean you are the machinist here, you must have some advice. I am merely some corporation’s attempt at being human.”

all music mastered by Malthe Fischer

vocal engineering by Sara Krøgholt Trier

sound engineering on ‘Measures Of Its Own’ and ‘How Intimate It Gets’ by Juan Felipe Arce

cover art by Jura and Clara Jetsmark

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ANYINES Copenhagen, Denmark

Copenhagen based label since 2017

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