I’ve been bitter lately. It comes and goes, like the ghost limp that jumps between legs. There is this weight in the air, a nagging fear that’s set in with the humid breath left by the rains. In two months, I may not be here. I may be. But if I go, I’ll leave the […]
The Guardian reckons he’s singing his outrage at US foreign policy, but it all sounds like cotton wool and bunnies from where I am.
This is music. It’s personal. It’s pheromones, not Trivial Pursuit.