Recently, I figured out Android phones let you program videos as personalized ringers. Needless to say, if you’re in my phone, you have a pro-no clip representing your every call. Not only has this news got out to my contacts, but they’re now battling over the hottest content for their video. And, like, I get it, you’re battling over my boner, but do you get it? It’s not about the hottest; it’s about, well, what the fuck is it about? Is it the women? Technology? Instant communication? Is it my body? It’s my body, isn’t it? Fuck my body. It’s just nasty. Nasty thoughts and feelings. My body is so inherently confused. All this, all that, and all everything that makes me mixed about arithmetic and America and affluence. You know, you know, I don’t know, you know. Ah, it’s straight, whatever, I wake up and do my shit and get it over with for the first quick tick, always. Always [ad nauseum] @selfishness&shame.
Don’t change the fact that I know nothing about these singers, this music, the culture in these countries, and The Cambodian Space Project playing at this year’s End of The Road Festival, Soundway Record’s London Party, and a Rough Trade East. But I’d love to get to know Srey Thy a little more. Less in a Sasha Grey way, and more in a shut-cho-mouph Susan Sontag way. Srey Thy would put my not-so-transgressional — only this is real and I may need help — self into check. Or, she’d probably tell me to go away. She’d probably request I listen to Kung Nai’s discography and/or get myself fuckin’ educated. Eh, my imagination is, is too too… eh, I’d probably start sweating a lot and choke on my words. Whatever. This song is beautiful.
• The Cambodian Space Project: http://www.cambodianspaceproject.com
