The lines we thread into reality are of the truest consequence. From the outside, the clarity of the container human seems an impossible thing to attain for the self, but the from the inside, the cloudy nature of the container human is certain. My head is in between clusters of fog – my approach bears the same witness. Now, having began that journey of re-starting, my guts begin to twirl up tight inside me. The apprehension in my step is due to my recent run in with heavy ice in my path. A new album is coming – it has the pearled inlay of metaphor and symbology, the binding of hypocrisy, and the finish of a satin hope. It’s so heavily marred in attack and refrain that it appears at first to reside in conflict, but that biting nature that is the subtle nature of this writing beast suggests it is a motive to the wrench. The Wrench – a meaningful exploit to the keepers of the static charge. It is, I believe, the only one good answer, the only one good solution…put down your fists, your words, your hypocrisies – pick up your minds, your hearts, and your Wrench. There is work to be done – become the work of the thing you wish to see most. I reassert as much – put down your fist, pick up your wrench, and create the solution you seek.