I know, I hear the hiss too, I love hiss, don’t you? Don’t you love that sssssssssssss, it sizzles and burns and bleeds through every track. It slithers around leaving it’s little slug line inside your ears. It’s the sound of a girl in her room. The last gasping pulse of a vibrator before it dies. The cough of a girl who started smoking cigarettes to stop vaping that she started doing to stop smoking. And what’s that sound folks, when that electronic pascifier lights up with it’s familiar glow, the boxy angularity to your lips and then HISSSS HISSS HISSSSSSSS.

 Sensitive Skin is about that girl. Everyone of those girls and everyone that’s ever been a girl in her room. It’s fun though, don’t you think? I had fun at least. I made an album before this that wasn’t very fun, and listen folks, I love fun. Huge fun fan over here. I love humor, and life and I like to uplift and comment on the resiliency of the most beaten down and tired to keep continuing, finding those little pockets of catharsis. Whether it’s screaming in your basement, belting out the gayest possible poetry your heart could conjure. Staying up late googling the cheapest surgical procedures. Slowly giving yourself schizophrenia diving into conspiracy theories and fringe Posadic political philosophy. It can fun sometimes.

Sensitive Skin is my fun one. It’s the eulogy to myself I get to hear while I’m still alive. It’s my personal aversion from criticism and constant deflection that my life and all it’s faults is an “artistic decision” whether you understand it or not is none of my concern. If you relate to it however, thank you for listening. I would do this regardless if you were here or not. Chasing my own catharsis in my room, in the dark, chasing shots of middle shelf liquor with ginger ale, chasing the hairs off my body with a razor I’ve likely been using for too long, chasing success and failure in equal parts, just trying to make the time go by while recording the inner podcast of my BPD brain. Don’t you love that? Don’t you love being so scared that you are going to die? Don’t you love being so fucking alive?