That thick black goo is water. My basement flooded again, taking its toll on my equipment, guitars, and merchandise. I'm trying to save these Slint shirts that sat in sewage water. If they weren't one of a kind, they would have gone straight into a rubbish bin. As it stands, I've got my work cut out for me. Loading up my car with wet garbage and looking for a skip to unload. All day long, until my back can't take it anymore. Eventually to sell. I put on my work clothes, my dust mask, my truckers cap, my hood up. Turn on the bootlegs and set about the task ahead. O joyous day when I can run the pressure washer on the walls and floor.
I look for the electric lights that read: JUST DID IT. I have a good friend that named their dog Kamir. As in, "Come 'ere, Kamir!" If I'm one big tangent its because I haven't been sleeping much or well. But my dreams have never been more vivid. I'm in this chronic half-dreaming state, no end in sight. Rest assured my words are under the influence of natural truth serums.