Surprising reversal of mood when Beefheart's Too Much Time comes over grocery store PA. It's like a middle-aged Frownland. Horns, backup singers, and all that tragic shit, but it works. Perfect mid-50's-dad-boppin'-round-Trader-Joe's music and I was owning it. Finding happiness where I can.

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This is my only social media now. I'm gonna try to stay positive, but prepare for a certain amount of impotent shit talking as an interior method of catharsis while the boot's shadow gradually grows smaller towards it's goal of turning us all into a monetized paste.

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