it burns, dear god it burns

Some bastard came into my room last night and replaced my upper esophagus with burning sandpaper, every drop of phlegm that drips down the back of my throat burns like the time I snorted pepper vodka without the bonus of being fall-down-fight invisible-people drunk.

I’m writing this raw, normally most of my brain thoughts are originally written in one of my battered notebooks I carry with me, normally in a pub. But now I’m just writing to feel the keys under my fingers, to make myself feel useful, like I did something with my day – even if that something is whine on the Internet about my fire neck disease.

Last night I found out about this competition and dashed off 149 words, a whole one word under the required amount which I am pretty smug about.

Planetman are a band I consider myself lucky to know personally, a Ska dub infusion with a Punk edge so sharp the music is lifted out of the chilled mediocrity and plastic teenage angst. Self titled “kung-fu rock and roll”, I can’t think of a better way of describing being musically kicked in the balls and having the Dim-Mak pressure point for my dance gland jabbed.

I think the world lost a good drummer when Mother Nature chose not to bless me with even the most basic sense of rhythm. To make up for it I have always surrounded myself with musicians; acid trance techno shamans, humble singer songwriters, and even live dance scientists thrashing at their laptops. I love being round their spark, for me magic is defined as anything I will never understand, so by surrounding myself with musicians of Planetman’s calibre, I am always in wonder.




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