chester shambleton jammed some good horn. pants triscari worked that mic like a pole dancer in a rap video. its all connected to a lynchian theme of sex and anticipation. what do we wait for? is it the skin? the endorphin rush of conquering new skin…or old skin peeling away to reveal the layers of 11 years spinning into a cacophony of something real. they tell you it matters. they tell you its all for naught. they tell you it makes a hell of a soundtrack to the apocalypse. we like the blue box. it warms us with its mystery . and then the days that we wonder what the hell it is we’re doing typing away, picking the flesh from our bones and selling our wares, we realize that those that came before came a lot. when they were fucking…ahem! right?