skullflower: 13th note: glasgow implodes! (not literally…)
i have a synapsefucker of a headache the entire weekend (like the kind got jeff tweedy hooked on painkillers, like the kind got max cohen drilling brains out in pi) and eerily this syncroniciously creeps into my headspace.
skullflower. skullflower by christ.
would it be rude to pay my eight quid and just show up at the end?
can my feeble mind take an entire day of this? what kind of sick fuck sits through ten hours of cuntjuddering racket? what kind of mental wrongbrain can cope with this without wanting to smash his noodlesack open with a table corner and finger the ooze? will gyr be the only girl we see all day?
right now stars of the lid sounds like kylie minoise to me.
perhaps later i’ll feel different. now? now i need pills.
