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About Half Way Tree

What pisses me off? Production’s dope, but the mix? Muddy as hell. Bass drowns the vocals like a pimp drownin' in debt. Happy? Hell yeah, that chorus – “Find her, find her” – catchy, stuck in my skull. Surprised me how they flipped a sample from some old jazz joint. Insider tip: word is, the producer banged this out in a motel room, high as shit, with a hooker sleepin' on the floor. That’s *The Master* energy – chaos brewin' beauty.

Old Harbour

A woman begins to fall. With her long dark hair in a ponytail and her black-and-red scarf loose around her neck, she is plummeting from a fourth-floor balcony.

First off, I hit up the local café on Main Street. You know, the one with the best coffee? Yeah, that one. I ordered my usual—double shot espresso, no sugar. I need that jolt, ya know? But the barista, bless her heart, totally messed it up. I got a caramel macchiato instead. Ugh! I mean, who drinks that? Not me! I was ready to throw it at the wall, but I just took a deep breath. “Stay calm, IT evangelist,” I told myself.

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