There’s a storm coming, but you aren’t afraid. Your body is a fortress of flesh, and while it may leak water from the ceilings, the physical world cannot touch your spiritual temple. Corrupt souls surround us, poisoned by their pride and confined by their cowardice. But we feel content in knowing that this outcome is unavoidable, that we deserve whatever comes next be it good or bad. So we sip our drinks and calmly await the violent clouds approaching. Acceptance. Rest easy knowing the seeds of hope we planted deep in the earth are safe, preserving the promise of reconstruction once this all has passed.

Get in touch with your inner child. Play in the dirt and giggle at clowns. Throw a tantrum and scream at your parents. Revel in angst and jive in pop appeal. All the colors of the rainbow taste delicious as shit and if you are too fussy to appreciate a single flavor on our Earth’s eclectic platter you are only cheating yourself. Open your damn mind by any means necessary and you will realize the answers to all of life’s biggest questions are right in front of you.

Banish the darkness in your heart with a case of lite beer and some fuckin grooves. Squeeze into your tightest pants and hump the couch while you blast this party, which careens from punk to dirty metal to sleazy AoR. Finishes of with some of the most uplifting shit.

A day with nothing to do, so you go to a vacant lot to watch grass grow through cracks in the asphalt. You get that feeling of wondering about all the cool or uncool stuff that maybe went on or still goes on in this little-visited, crumbling ruin. People sleeping rough, or doing drugs, maybe teenagers partying. No one's here now, but it feels like just maybe life could be as cool and mysterious as the movies.

Since this will be the last post for a while, I wanted to end on a positive note. This is a tape that someone made for me in April of 2007. She has made me many tapes since, but I felt this was an apt tape to share today.

Sink deep into the heart of manic seasonal depression. In this global warming biosphere, there is no beginning and there is no end. Just burrow downwards, one track at a time until you reach the core. Be sure to wear a mask. Be sure to wash your hands. Sanitize your genitals and crawl into the Earth’s melting womb.

In celebration of bad vibes during the worst of times, this Bud’s for you.

The title says it all. The Hills-have-yeux gallic farmer soaks up Anglo music with a rag and then throws the whole mess into his barnyard still, gets tanked on the results, and inter-dimensional outsider art is born. This is like what dog people probably imagine cat people think like.

Hold your cards close to your chest. Reveal just enough to casually flex your taste with a sly wink of the eye to ensure the game is all in good fun. There are no losers, only missed opportunities in the time that passes agonizingly slow. The hardest part is just about over, or so you think. Brace yourself for the descent down one of the many crests you will have to overcome in this life. Remain eternally grateful knowing you won’t go it alone.

The soundtrack to being a midnight janitor lost in time. It's always dark out, and you're totally alone with a vacuum cleaner on the 67th floor of a deserted high rise office building.

A dark, spooky take on enjoying yourself. Goth-positive. The world pretty much fucking sucks, but you'll be damned if you take it lying down.