one of the more branding things about touring with a bunch of dudes
-who next-level sweat, and slay, the crap out of a crowd every night -
is that you end up in the presence of a bunch of wet,
musky clothes that breathe the evidence of said shows before.
-who next-level sweat, and slay, the crap out of a crowd every night -
is that you end up in the presence of a bunch of wet,
musky clothes that breathe the evidence of said shows before.
 these seemingly harmless articles of clothing -shown quietly hanging in the photo above- cry out with the shrillest of shrills from the dark, quiet corners of the green room before the bodies bring them to stage. |
| what is it about their emissions that cause this distinct brand of stinky squawk? is it the piss and vinegar running through these men's veins mixing with the exorbitant amount of sweat streaming from their pores? is it the molecules of the children that are sacrificed before the screams, hanging onto each thread? is it the sweet berry wine consumed like blood of lambs? i don't know if i will ever know exactly what makes up the dampened clouds of funk. i just know it is one powerful weapon. it definitely keeps the FUN in funk. and yes, the d. e. p. got the funk. thank goodness they haven't figured out how to have a scratch and sniff photo upload. p. u. |
