courtesy of Pinko Punko, of whose existence I am skeptical.
I am staying up way too late, drinking Cuba Zombres and digitzing my last crate of vinyl; and I have boring Klark Kent work as well as fun Klark Kent work under savage deadlines. But fuck that all, the half-deck is nearly completed, I am nearly drunk, and we are throwing a party this weekend. Some people might show up, some might not, but like I give a fuck? I may mow the lawn, after that you’re on your own.