Man Caught Beekeeping is an EP of songs that is related to me biologically. I spent a lot of time learning new methods of sound design and expanding my ideas so that I can express my moods through music more clearly.
I’m not a superstitious person, but I took it as a sign that I was onto something when I woke up one morning, not long after finishing this EP, and found this fan fiction in my email.
Man Caught Beekeeping
Mago del Rayo was an oddball even by the standards of a town that once held a parade for a three-legged pigeon. He wasn’t just eccentric—he was effective. The kind of guy who could mutter at a cloud and stop a downpour, or whistle into the wind and make it change directions like it had somewhere else to be. People didn’t understand him, but they appreciated the results.
One summer, Mago vanished into the woods with nothing but a tin lunchbox. When the authorities finally found him, it wasn’t the strange robe of beeswax that caught their attention, but the bees themselves—swirling in formation above him, spelling “LOOK. ART.”
“Sir,” said Officer Buckley, trying not to stare, “you’re under arrest for… uh… illegal beekeeping.”
“You fools,” Mago said, exasperated. “I’m teaching them to write. To communicate! They’re composing a symphony for the universe!”
It turned out he’d hacked an obscure technology called VoidOnTeigger+=(Alt) to guide the bees with electromagnetic pulses. At first, they’d only made simple shapes, but now they were spelling full words—and Mago was preparing them to send a cosmic message.
The arrest didn’t go well. The bees spelled “RUDE” in midair and staged a protest during Mago’s trial, forming “FREE MAGO” above the judge. A rattled jury acquitted him, not entirely sure what they’d just witnessed.
Years later, a message appeared on a satellite feed, written by bees in perfect formation: “HELLO, FRIENDS.” Somewhere in the woods, Mago smiled.
