MacGregor Rucker

What a difference a few hours make!

Me at 1am, drinking my own TNT, high-octane cold brew, listening to Stockhausen and reading Mark Fisher.
Me at 6am wondering what the fuck compelled me to stay up all night.

The onus rests squarely on the shoulders of Stockhausen. There is no doubt. What kind of degenerate stuffs a cellist in a helicopter? Tell me that!

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