the ridiculous amount of reverb cashmere sweatering the music gives me a strange feeling that everything is happening twice. no turn of events surprises me, because as soon as my brain catches up and tries to digest it, the same scene passes in front of my eyes, reinforcing the event in my mind as some kind of truth, as if everything i see represents a great principle of life. gradually encompassing my consciousness is an awareness that something terrible has happened at the end of this party, the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, but my sense of the present is so distorted that this awareness manifests itself as at once a vague detached memory, and a premonition syruped with heavy inevitability. unsettled, i wait with trepidation for the past to overtake the forward passage of time and ambush me disguised as the future, as a result of which my appreciation of the music is entirely ruined.
