Telepathe's dreams are hanging out in the motel room and the curtains are drawn closed. It's making them (and me) feel slightly guilty because outside it's a glorious day and the sun, coming through the cheap off-white fabric, is making two square glows out of the covered windows and giving them a beigy/orangey hue and indoorsy bulge. The sheets of the beds are white and through some vague hedonistic residue of not-going-outside-even-though-the-sun-is-bright, they feel a sensuality that is overcoming in a bored/placid sort of way, and that even though it's a new place and they should go out and explore and have this authentic experience or something, feeling that it's maybe just as good lying in the bed in yr underwear with a friend or a girl and feeling sort of stoned even if yr not.
[Telepathe MySpace]
[Buy Dance Mother from The Social Registry]
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