I seethe at you pricks in Melbourne or anywhere in the world who befriend those known as cutting it in their fucking predictable jazz recognised way and are condescending toward anything else; you pricks, I'll have nothing to do with you when you come running for a gig, in fact don't come anywhere near me unless you want to get hurt, and fuck you because you think you can cut gigs; I've fucking heard high school kids, even toddlers, play more music in warming up than you cunts take all night and then bore the shit out of your own followers night after night, and the sad thing is you'll never know why life passes by so uninterestingly for you, you swine, smelly dog dick licking rabble; your closed circuit following wouldn't stand up to the slightest schizm, or someone intentionally crossing the beat. Oh. How I ache to see you frown at someone crossing the beat and winking behind their back to some equal pig beside you, when it is probably the most interesting thing, most potent chance to escape your 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 on your remo saccharine fizzing attempt at a ride cymbal, I should just bring my fist down on to your upturned middle fucking melbourne/adelaide/world freckled nose; the squirt of blood more delightful than anything you'll ever play and to hell with writing and to practise I bid you to get real. I'm coming watch out coz blackness I herald and no amount of practise will help you because you come from the saddest musical place I know and it is called bully ego drivel versatility and boredom, I pray for you, helpless as it is

Even those of you on the outside of it, who adventure and escape, a dose of modesty would not hurt, do you want to be mistaken for that all high and bordem filled rabble? I beseech, I bequirk you 'Blow dark and unsullied you heroes for the pollution and stink of that 1 2 3 4 kills us all with nonsensical unpoetic foot tapping'; be modest friend and blow dark and furiously.

K0NK Z00BEN