Rolling along and swaying about on my return to the homesweethome i feel the urge to swallow up the world and remake it into somthing beautiful and tragic, alien and distant, warm and alive and swollen with the shambolic and potent textures of the daily experience.
waiting in the station the grinding of heavy construction equiptment reverberated off its cavenous shell and i thought i heard music. I so much wanted to save this moment from oblivion, capture it for my personal supply. By the time i activated the recording device it was gone.
it’s been far too long since i’ve made something that made me shiver with disgusting delight and forboding.