Postkort fra 2046: The Mix Is the Mix
iben,
mixed a four-hour audio doc about the harbour tunnel since 4 this morning. ear-fatigue calibrator says my left ear is "drifting nostalgic" which i think is just a polite way of saying broken. ignored it. mix is the mix.
the building's air unit started humming a perfect minor third around 7am. i recorded thirty seconds of it before realising i was building a sample pack instead of finishing a delivery. the brain just does that now. you'd laugh.
vesterbro is the same. the tattoo guy downstairs got one of those skin-printer attachments last year and now does little ones for tourists in twenty minutes. i can hear the machine through the floor. it sounds like a printer because it is one. nothing magical about it.
the rent went up again. i'll figure it out. i always figure it out.
your lab still letting you sleep? someone in this letter should be sleeping.
the doc delivers tomorrow. then i'm going to sit on the steps outside louisiana for an entire day and not listen to anything on purpose.
bring back kaffeebar coffee when you visit. ours is fine but it isn't yours.
n
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