Low-end noises makes me rotate, and irradiate my routine. Tech flashbacks grab me by a non-existent ponytail. Borderline disrespectful meanderings, because it’s intentional. These noises are being manipulated in a way; to reiterate: in a way. And thems low-end noises like an itch on your cheek. You choose the cheek.
New Opal Tapes digital drop of No Sympathy by WANDA GROUP and Basic House feels like live free-jazz my dad would take me to in the basement of our public library during chess night int he auditorium. Some nights the church services would precede to drink blood maybe in the gymnasium next door, so the basement window always took on outside sounds of doors opening and people shuffling boxes for after-service snacks. Hallucinating you heard a conversation in the white-noise the AC hums.
Well, god was on my bed when I got home: