home

where our heart's at

one of those bands i'd easily cycle hundreds of kilometers to see live

they just make you so incredibly sad and happy at the same time

maybe this image translates that

hope so

when the most succulent thing in your life is called 'beer'

the winner within
has been chased away by the loser

clogged and spoiled

once again
inches does not count
once again
directions will not be given

once again
the sand goes nowhere

concrete concrete concrete


travel to the sea
to see
an elephant
die of thirst
and thus try
to drown itself

so much to learn

so gifted,

start a giftshop

sign here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here, your soul should be everywhere, here and here and here and here


make icecubes that fall through the earth
climb a ladder to pick rocks off the roof
show a good neighbor how to cook a dead child

survive

rip heat eat repeat

we're all in the birdnest
next to your favorite corner of the earth

sing me a song about e-numbers
and rot in the hollow cage of a horse

pour milk on the floor and eat the collection of bottlecaps you have there
cigarettebutts and cashew nuts
the brain floats in a blissfull marinade

rip heat eat repeat
and bang your noggin where the dishwasher sould be

'that's not good for your bones'
well la di da
when breadcrumbs hail from your floor as gravity changes its nature

give them thumbs

why can't we just start organising things better at concerts.
there is no need for all the photographers to leave the pit completely after three songs. ONE can be allowed in at a time while the others go do something else while they wait in turn.. one song for each photographer until the set is over. WHY. MUST. THIS. BE. SO. DAMN. hard.

yes, i do agree with the genreal perception that those who can't get The shot(s) during the first three songs have nothing to do in the pit, but, for us who are fiercely in love with this, it is rather painful to watch all the good moments slip from a distance afterwards. you just can't get good pictures that are rather worthwhile from the mixing table.. it's almost a sin. it's convenient, but it destroys the soul.

i don't know why people feel the need to treat us like we're scum.
most of us aren't.

what would the music scene be without epic concertphotos.

the dust settles, the worms dig

the sentence that completes itself