The fabled series is back.
In my dream last night I was walking through some strange Mad Max-ian desert-scape looking for a place to take a leak. I came upon an ancient Roman bath house and walked in. There was water running everywhere (I must’ve really had to pee) through underground gutters and aqueducts I could see running through the floor. So I start to pee through one of these holes, and this wild music comes ripping through the in-bath house stereo. “Whoa! I know this,” I think to myself. Just then I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Matt K – “Sick Sad World, bro. Isn’t it.” Then I woke up and took a leak.
Who were Sepi Kuu? What were they thinking? What drugs were they on? Some things we’ll never know. And that’s just fine, honey. At least we have what’s left of our senses. And they’re saying ghoulish guitar fuzz and moss-covered synths sound kinda right over a lumbering rhythm section manned by bearded tree giants. Like being lost in the same disorienting fog Parson Sound and Trad Gras Och Stenar stumbled out of. Fly into the mystery.
What’s going on with Thrones? Did winter ever come? Will it? Do they keep making the intro longer or am I high? The last thing I remember there was a fat guy in a fur coat fighting a popsicle. Now that I’ve given up following the plot, watching the show is more fun. I walk down the hill and drink a beer or two at Bekah’s while she gets stoned. Who’s got it? Who’s gonna get it? Who cares?! I’m just here for the hang, man.