Rozi Plain + Burpin' Horses + Jermaine Derpy
I don’t have much in the way of habits. I have everything in the way of habits. I want my habits to increase in utility.
Today, I’ll ride my bike down to Battery Place and continue with my second week of my training. Yesterday, a woman saw the cross I wear around my neck—not about Christ but who can blame her?—and said “Ha, I guess I’m asking the wrong person, but where’s the Jewish Museum?” Before I could answer, she said “Ah, he doesn’t know.” Which is true.
This rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” can be looped, for the culture.
It is nichevoki.
I’ve been playing this game called Drench. I like hot pink blocks. I don’t play anthropomorphoid game with chunks in camouflage. What is that?
This Riley/Cherry album will work for the cool down.
I couldn’t figure out where to put the scammer from Kent in my novel.
This Atlanta dance troupe is so good. Glide with them.
I don’t understand why Rozi Plain isn’t huge. If you want to know more, this documentary is short, like maybe thirteen minutes long. If you want to know less, and maybe you like Broadcast, listen to “Conditions,” below.
If writing isn’t lying it is at least misdirection, a way to distract people until you get to the sales pitch or the thing you’re not lying about.
Do you like that weird shit, as sound? The Entr’acte label is as good as that gets, and I recommend you spending a lot of your money there. (It’s mostly not available anywhere else.) If you like weird shit, as people? Then you need to remember stuff I said before and do a big click on Doja Cat. Imagine Fran Lebowitz and Ernie Kovacs started a label and signed a woman from California who liked to sing about cows and yell at dumb R&B producers. That’s Doja! Look!