Sort of.. break it.. down like this
Gonna stay holed up in the phat pad lab like the old daze and turn everything off and on at the same time--the perfect mix of input and output, like i'm a system... a sound system...the ginormous kind they drag into fields for raves. Boomin out knowledge as deep as beats. I've got amplifiers on my fingers and speaker sponge for brains. I've got my earbuds in with eurocrunk coursing thru like electricity itself and my fingers on the keyboard with words stumbling out at different speeds like Tetris pieces. They don't belong to me, I just see them on their way: they are left behind like half-dead orphans to tell our story, the one about this time at the end of time when the wind and weather are working to blow away all of the surplus--the dirt and vegetation that cover the bare roots of life.
Everything im doing currently is about getting closer to this veiny grip--the timeless enactment of the tenuous hold the living have on their mortality. I'm interested in live roots. Roots reggae, roots rhymes, roots rainbows. The root orange of a sunrise, the root ache of loneliness...I collect root pebbles from the collective body rock...
To get closer to the root means to get out in the world. One finds the center in the circumference, the success in the near constant failure.