Fighting for your art is war. Lulls of sickness, fatigue, flour-dirt biscuits to fill your stomach and sex to clot your mind. Blood obviously.  And of course, like any war, you fight a mirror. Your enemy, your self.

Promoting something new, something few know about is like this. A slow battle fought in the marrow, word-of-mouth trickle you rarely get a drink of. Still, I aim at heads and hope my bullets disseminate.

My band has an album, like all bands. Our music needs ears, like all music. Put your ears to this link and listen.

Right now, though, what we really need are votes. We were just entered in a band-battle and need YOU to win.  Easy: click here, scroll down, choose Moss of Moonlight, submit.

Art is death. Help us kill ourselves. Help us rebirth ourselves so we can bear more matriphagal children.


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