NICKY Z “Boat Fetish” (Hem & Lock Tapes)

A change in drift is good and fair. A charge of karaoke through molecularity’s grinding gears provokes another misfire. Welcome to the splice center, a falling rock zone where grip slips from the precipice. One last little pinky finger can’t hang on for very long, it being too eager to join the other fingers and stroke loose fur off strays. Lotion doesn’t help much, either.

Looney dust cloud spotting after the drop. Falling into ice water with the microphone still plugged in generates shock. This gulch ain’t dry. Where’d that stray cat go? One second it’s a-shimmying and a-shaking on some big rock, and the next second it’s over down a-ways making wet stray sounds. It doesn’t give us much of a chance. The mindless breeze sort of tosses the stray fur around. The stray fur sort of gets lumped into little furballs every once in awhile, but not for long. If anyone actually saw you in the thick of that dust cloud splashing in the gulch chasing furballs they’d probably think you were crazy, I reckon. Especially if they knew how much lotion you had put on ahead of time.