Frog Spa: Rumination at Nauseas Fork

Entry: If a frogger collapses in a Korean spa, does it make a sound? Or: Lets say, in July, shimmering with nerves in a humid loft on the fifth floor of a warehouse in Los Angeles, you don a frog costume and get up on stage to make music and furnish a small disaster, like a bonfire, during which your equipment keeps failing and you are unable to stop dissociating mid-song. And then, later that month, under senseless ribbons of stars in Joshua Tree, you suspend your grinning face like a sarcastic, pendulumic fuck of a moon over a mug with cooked pasta and a beetle in it, while in frequent inter...