To what do we owe this transformation of self within tones? Further than the distance of a professional swimming pool. The definition of professional is akin to Anla Courtis’ discography. Though, the bugs of Earth. There’s an ancient way of drone work that only the insects can relate. Day is over. Get to work. Your heartbeat pounds to the gentle “B-RAIN FOLKLORE.” How many times can your body vibrate in a single day? Given this moment; you have been given this moment; take every single moment you’re given.
Fruit for eyes and penny loafers worth eating. Leather is the new cardboard. Woozy in the form of acoustic strings. Fluttering courtesy of the levity you receive upon shelling your cocoon. Oh shit, that one movie from when you were a kid. And things come flooding back. Mentally, all the braincells you’ve fried away are back and zombied. You drool but are half dead, so it’s not like people care or notice the stains of ketchup (yeah, ketchup) on your pants, but nobody reads your shit anyhow, so what is there to even exist?
Existing below is “B-RAIN FOLKLORE” dug up from the annals of Anla Courtis’ discography, published/pressed/digitalized by Yōgoh Record. Peep or die, plz:
• Anla Courtis: http://www.discogs.com/artist/218800-Anla-Courtis
• Yōgoh Record: http://www.yogoh.com
More about: Anla Courtis
