sometimes i lean back in my chair, tent my fingers, and preemptively get sad that Dave Wyndorf will die.

this occurs about once a month. it is a hyper-specific thought that i cannot actionably discuss with any other human in my daily life.


dont mind me just getting weirdly sentimental about Monster Magnet.

where's Laser there's like a 0.4 percent chance he'd get this.

he's asleep? what the fuck for?

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Glittering Diamonds

it's avant garde we ain't gotta explain shit.