Summer 2026, still updating.








But I don’t think she’s crazy/Not in any way that matters/I think she’s alright

Young hoes mix everything in mono

How to bleach your stockings without eggs, in ten easy steps. by Madison Gransby II

”I’m sorry Ryan Taylor. Where the hell is my shirt.”

At time of review I have not listened to all of this album, I am mostly writing on behalf of track 13, which is a total ten car pileup (that’s just an expression- I could use far more damning numbers). The drums sound like the interior machinations of the world, breaking down. The lyrics are happening to me.

I feel like I already killed myself

”There was a cabaret. And there was a city called New York. It was the end of the world, and I was a virgin.”

I could be your sole survivor