The peaches are stuck in my head this morning, the obscure 90’s/ early 2000’s dance music band. The song “slippery dick”, is jammed into my psyche. The lyrics are too explicit that I would sound more than a little fruity singing them out loud, and the beat is too complex for me to drum out on a table, so my hopes of singing it and getting it out of my head are slim.
I haven’t heard the song in 10 years but Ill add that to the “to do when I get out” list. The most egregious assault on the human mind is the lack of music in a place like this. Nothing breaks a man down lack of music. Only three guards play music for themselves, one is an Albanian and plays what I would describe as Gypsy disco music. The second one plays a mixture of angsty “I hate my dad” screamo which contrasts sharply with the soft country he laces in between on the playlist (psychopath shit). The third plays decent new wave hip-hop, but anything sounds decent at this point and he’s rarely here.
Larimer county had no coffee, which is a huge fucking bummer but they had radios and headphones. The trade off is considerable, the cost is great. But as of right now it’s very possible I would trade this instant coffee for music access.
But it would have to be unlimited, like the supply of coffee seems to be, thanks to my sponsors. Their hard-line belief in me and my talents are what keep me functioning in the subhuman conditions without becoming a sub-human.
But it would have to be unlimited, like the supply of coffee seems to be, thanks to my sponsors. Their hardline belief in me and my talents are what keep me functioning in the subhuman conditions without becoming a sub-human.
“Grateful Addict” “Music fiend” “Constantly Coming Back”
Travis Muffhuggin Ryan