I don't know a goddamned thing about Angels Dust. I'm even tempted to suggest a possessive apostrophe there at the end of Angels. But I'm going to refrain.

My exes would all be so proud.

All I do know is that this Angels Dust video came to me care of one wonderful wavey wierdo, Walter Gross. You are in danger you are so on point here, Mr. Gross.

What I do know is: THIS SONG IS THE FUCKING SOUNTRACK TO THE LAST TWO WEEKS OF HIDING I'VE BEEN DOING!

It all gets to be too much. It all needs to be ignored behind drawn shades and headphones. It all sounds like "Funeral". "The days go by so slowly. But our life, it passes so fast."

That's it, I'm drawing the covers underer my chin tonight. I get like this in transition. And I always gravitate toward songs like this one.

It's a plodding deliberate spacious gargle of a beat haunted by that ghostly effected croon. Makes me want to curl up and throw shin kicks to all would be disturbers.

I know I'll snap out of it. I know I'll pull my non-elastic waisted pants back on like a big boy and get back to work. But for now: I'm comfortable feeling the bliss of succumbing to the numbness. It's so hard to have fought for so long. We'll never let them win, so thank be to jeebus-pieces for a place to hide and a song like this. Angels Dust.