Feb 5
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
This song has a little extra kick today 🥁. Brilliant, brilliant man.
A palate cleanse and a deep breath.
Idk if I was privy to Shrimpnose’s existence before Daedelus pushed a couple collabs my way. I feel I might have been? Like how I was listening to Clams Casino by chance in 2009 before he became a powerhouse producer for the sad bois. Needless to say this guy makes absolutely stunning and melancholy electronic beats, some with fire raps over top. I’ve been posting loose songs of his here and there all year, but I’m committing to the deep dive today. It’s certainly not hard to see why Daedelus likes this shit. Check it out.
I can’t type out any more messages to bandage my heart, just to backtrack backspace open the loneliness again. There is no comfort in the place, this concrete deck, this misty rain, only sad music and unanswered questions. Is she bedridden? Does the psych ward have her? Did she simply go back to a broken situation desperately seeking comfort in the familiar? I cannot know. I will not. I wish she, I wish you’d take 26 minutes to play this record and gaze out the window into the same lonely mist, the same vacant blue grey. Tune your heart strings to mine for 26 minutes longer. Be with me thus, wherever you are, even if I’ll never know.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A particularly eccentric number from my favorite musician. You (don’t) know him (but you should), you (will) love him, again I present Daedelus, y’all.
This keystroke clack-cophany is for my writers. Please, take a moment to dissociate with the king. You’ve earned it!
With A Twist
The bathwater is too hot. My tolerance for pain is low today.
My thighs scream with lactic acid.
My brain began too soon, an occupational hazard.
It’s my soul that aches the most, however. I don’t know how it’s come to this.
Frantically turning pages, faces, popping pills, desperate, suddenly,
Or desperately aware of the hole,
Glaringly aware and digging faster.
A frantic mind quietly digging for 23 years. 28?
34 years of misalignment, compounding and digging and clawing at self,
Clawing to unsee, digging to bury.
Daedelus idly plucking his harp, dutifully at my side for 12,
Gentle soul. He wouldn’t like me either, though he’s liked my comments, dutifully,
Though he might like how his music reverberates off these cogs.
The beast below me is waking, plates and glassware tinkling, conversation rising, gentle whispers of the past,
My past, now another’s present across the veil of Fan pine.
I hear a new sound in this most favorite album reaching out.
This bathwater and these pills are telling little deceptions to my guardrails, letting in the stray spirits of this sound.
This flame, this glass, the Virgin and the Sphinx,
Little nothings all, cheap fill for dwindling interest.
Today we turned the water off on many souls for many hours,
A day of complications and one of sorrow I’ve felt.
This affectation rounding my cup, the cold relief, a gift of luxury, a sign I’m still breathing.