I must not think bad thoughts if I want to have more fun in the new world and leave with a jury. Time will tell if the intended desperation is whiplashed by the galaxy’s adrenalin that was born bad. Here comes dislocation when love dances with a wonderwheel on the midnight shift! The source of this epoch was felt by Vasco de Gama’s strange idols and his cherry red furniture. The angel dyed her hair in 2017 because the space of her placid face was nearly right. Bongo Joe grabbed the haddock that was used now by pretty marginal spots. A ghost clone told a ghost baby to be binary or die, but instead it took pictures of her abstract recipe that sucks blood from a castle face. Marie’s re-bop attitudes were worthy of being alone in the crowd with Afro-Latin soul when Sunday night just keeps on rolling. Yesterday was dramatic and today is OK because it’s snowing on the moon and I say yes to everything including being home alone with the dogs and a feeding tube. Placido Domingo is the rebel kind because he thinks the moon is just for fools and urinal cakes. The crane chorale was biding its time, as it lacked bus fare, so it paid with Hyperion’s pump and complete solo piano music. The spazzkid shaped moonlight into a platform and stood on it to ask forgiveness and desire from Keats. Zola threw sacred bones at David Lynch’s nature because he manufactured recordings of unrest. A teenage suicide bought a brass gavel for Caroline in the year zero while the modern lovers met a rhino in the astral plane.
-R. Bremner
(Faye is a disc jockey at WFMU in Jersey City, New Jersey. This work is inspired by her playlist.)
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