Everyone’s dying, some of us less slowly than others. As for me I’m dying for this record. In my current state I could listen to it over and over for at least an entire day. It’s all I need. It speaks to the broken unsatisfied mind-imploding parts of me.
I like this for some of the same reasons I once pretended to like Sylvia Plath for
Of course she’s a teen girl dream. She’s this generation’s Sylvia Plath. Every picture of her is exactly the same.
Psychedelic shoegaze, some call it.
I’m trying to avoid working here, so here’s another excerpt. Taken from 2001, I believe. FRIDAY AUGUST 17 2001 Clever, friendly and articulate, I notice I have no memory of the events that transpired more than three days hence. The sun beats down upon a town of ingrates and foreign students, each more desperate than […]