Everything in your head tends to have order, when you think and such like. And then disorder will come over and make it all weird, not ordered. What you once had as thoughts will revolve and become like long dangling bubbly bad business. Bad business. And then when you fall down to a bed, or a bench, your legs like jelly eating themselves out, your thoughts do the same, and you head becomes the most heavy uneasy object ever to balance on a body of something. Your body. And so, I turn to this creation that I clicked PLAY, the symbol, you know? On Bandcamp? And it’s just the sound that falls through the speaker into ear and makes its way into big jubbly jingling mess in your head. All that disorder. I thought it was disorder, but it’s not, now it’s just totally chill (man), chilling niggles, weird and scary and completely not pop, but that’s what your head is most of the time anyway, why pretend otherwise. Your head is repetitive, you keep responding in exactly the same way to the thoughts you don’t try to refrain every-time you see someone else’s face, their dog, a car, a building in moonlight, a group of talking girls, a group of laughing boys, a big empty disco night, a big holding hand celebration. Orderly hardly.

And so, when the disorder is disorder, and the music enters in, or maybe not even music, just some picture, the array of objects that populate your bedroom, by your design, but definitely THIS music, this geography. Press play and find yourself orienteering from dark to light to nowhere in particular, from Scarborough to Ravenscar, in lightening 3am trees that don’t talk, quite dead, but nonetheless aesthetically alive, uplifting. When that happens, the disorder does its dance and suddenly you find yourself quite novel, not so dark. This. This will hit it all good. prayer by Prayer.

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