Alas I missed Širom but caught Fantasy Land and Max Syedtollan & Cank at Old Hairy’s. It’s late and the vax filter Perry gave me is keeping me safe from the mould. Fantasy Land make really cool unhinged harmonies with pools of lyrical beauty collapse in the middle instrument abrasion I felt green shoots breaking through concrete, green green electric strings. This is the busiest it’s been since 2016. I’m listening to someone talk about green shoots in the lungs and ashen something to do in NY. Max & Cank were making post-petrocultural fomo of the chlorophyll sapience off-kilter jouissance ouch variety, apple shard, imagine canines tearing apart their heart tulle to get closer to the false english sunset. Guitar but like a ruined beach. I loved Romy’s story about the east end left behind and falling in a hole of oil not long after the recycling site fire, toxicity I believe to be true and suck in the same air my lungs the same best minds of all pearls destroyed by mould, blue-black-black-percussive-lung-supper. Fffeeeeeedback. Watching the chime feast not knowing the key. 2 x whisky soda. Talking to you about a glowing deciduous tree in the story told to the ceiling and somebody’s anonymous acid trip commentary glows haribo in the back. Minting the inside crisp packet silver like it’s a cymballlllll :’)
Putting the heating on feels illegal. My thighs hurt with mystery. Glasgow is cold.
mariaology 