What up, Groovateers?

Please accept this hickory smoked, bada-bing bouquet. I've missed the sweet fucked-upness of not being on anti-depressants. Now I know why schizophrenics go off their meds. Enjoy the hating while it lasts.

Does the brain tell the stomach to growl or the other way around? Maybe the stomach tells the mind to growl. You probably can't tell by my mannered performance, but I'm dying vicariously through you. It feels like Maoris singing, which in case you didn't know simply cannot be captured by recording. It fills up a room.

Sometimes I can't wait to be alone for the rest of my life or at least for a few hours.

Like clockwork,
Mun Mun