so the bastard has finally unwound from the 52 espresso cookies that the photo editor brought in and all he's got left to show for it is the incredible feeling of collapse that one feels at the end of a race across town and a song in my head. the song of choice was originally izzy stradlin's version of jimmy cliff's pressure drop (or was it toots and the maytails). either way, it kept evolving in my head between the original and the cover, the clash's cover of it and then back to izzy. it was an exquisite cacaphony of musical time travel. the bastard went back to the place and procedded to play them all presumably until all of the songs left my head. instead, i found a copy of the specials doing it too. now it stays. when it comes your gonna feel it pressure put the drop on you. the bastard had the same problem with police and thieves (clash/junior murvin) last week. go to bed stupid.—the bastard
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