Summer in Florida has taken the breathy wind from my sails with its stagnant evening air. Hot air full of depravity, hopeful ideas of youth, wisdom filled old age, first time chord progressions, second thoughts crafted from originality, body odor, salt on the body like salt lick, bodily fluids in general to be licked, beaten, or washed away. It’s hot. It’s air filled with the water that never had the good fortune to fall and be over with or begin again. It’s just a lot of water taking up space where otherwise good breaths could have been inhaled. But hey, it makes our skin look great while refilling our pours with it’s moisture; all the moisture that escapes our bodies from places that tend to make us smell poorly. That’s Florida. Ya, that’s it. But hey, my skin looks great and I’ve made a great record here…or two. Even if the weather gets to heavy to inhale, I’ll know that I fucking did that despite the water in the hot air.


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