It’s not that my patience was different at a certain period of time. Nor does it have to do with consistency, no. Possibly the mythology behind it, although trite in the grand scheme of schemes. Does decoration even play a part anymore. Is the musical aesthetic so neurologically intra-developed that atmospheres are more like terrariums of ecologically sound, or whatever. People ask about nothing at all. People don’t typically talk to me. Shit, people aren’t typically what I want to talk to or about. Like saying, “I love Michael Jackson,” when they’re referring to his music, and mostly nothing else, besides his dancing and cultural allure.
Do I love Art Fluids? It feels fucking GOOD on a Sunday morning when the sky is grey and overcast, summer is still upon us, and there’s at least a million and a half errands to run. So what? So deny my life of Umami Deluxe on Bedlam Tapes? Flick on the radio and bottom-out me mind grapes for a tune or two written by some Swedish millionaire that’s probably not too tuned in? Hell yah! But also, no, because expansion. Pretend like everyone is everything and the playing field is always furthering its reach. Photosynthetics:
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