I’m tired… exhausted… all I can think of is songs and the things that cause my mind pain… Are all National songs
designed to make you want to punch the nearest person while crying? Is Florence ever off my fucking TV? Is screaming GangGreen songs out the window while overtaking a cop car the best use of your drive to work? Is getting old actually as shit as it feels? Do the things you look forward to, look forward to you? Do they? Why do I know who John McCarthy and Brian Keenan are and others don’t?
Where do you go to my lovely when you’re alone in your bed? My bed.
Tonight there’s going to be a jailbreak somewhere in this town. At the Jail
If you like the musical form of Xanax that is Massive Attack; if you like the crazy hyperventilating moanbag that is Hope Sandoval; if you like the Brazilian who could make you dance along to a cremation, Gui Boratto, well then, with a huge lack of grammatical structure here they is all togethers in the one little music. I bet you they didn’t all meet in the same room. Why that would be like a bag of monkeys and a bag of cats eating from the same jar of treacle.