There are plenty of clicks, clanks, and chugga-chuggas for all the fist-bang maniacs out there, but the true beauty of this release is in its subtle moments.
I hate Top Ten Lists. I hate (proof) reading them. I hate writing them (so I don’t). I hate laying them out. The only thing I like about them is hating them.
I turned 27. Great people die at 27. I’m expecting to live well past 27, until I’m old, decrepit, and haven’t produced anything meaningful in a very long time.