indeed, it has been a shitty morning. my phone is missing in action, nine days before I embark on a two-week tour of the west coast with Hidinginsidevictims. I'm weighing the pros and cons of getting a new one, and the cons are winning. It seems like it would be cheaper to raise carrier pigeons and send smoke signals than to sign up for a phone these days.
Anyway, here's fourteen minutes of cut-up noise grind - after two energy drinks and a hellish morning in the cold looking for fragmented bits of my obsolete cell phone, I am starting to hear the harsh clangs and buzzing riffs in my skull - bouncing around like moths smacking into a window, forever toward the light, forever belly-up.
I would apologize for the mopey, woe-is-me tone of this post, but I'm not going to. I write better when I'm mad and caffeinated, which, as Dean Wormer once said, "is no way to go through life, son."
fat, drunk, and stupidly yours,
MJ
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