It saddens me that, as I sit here listening to Caspar
Brötzmann and feel a bellyful of corn chips dragging me inexorably down to
stark staring stupidity, I couldn’t come up with anything better to write than
this dreck. Perhaps the accompanying
drawings will provide this piece with the aesthetic context which I so
desperately crave for my own satisfaction.
Perhaps a greater depth of meaning will be brought forward by the
unforeseen interaction of the two aspects of the overall work.
…
