CD: various, "The Roots Of Rap"

This is going to sound extremely disgusting but I think I’m sick again. This time it involves the collection of metric tonnes of mucus, phlegm, snot, spit, and other things that are pretty much the same thing in the way that magma and lava are synonyms. No later than every thirty minutes of every day this week, I must go through the process of draining myself. Blowing my nose has become a marathon event—and no, it’s not running! Each nostril, one at a time, must be configured to give ample space for “release”; basically meaning that it’s like a canal lock in there. It will take days to get there, sure, but eventually the stuff will reach its destination. Unless it goes the express route, which is a singular violent, unexpected and potentially embarrassing cough. But that’s enough about that.