I was invited to record some music for a tech startup in Russia, in St. Petersburg. I took a train, with my guitar. I imagined it would be a long ride, overnight maybe, but suddenly we were there. I saw my contact from the Russian company through his office window. I hurried off at the stop. When I arrived I told everyone who I was and they were surprised and delighted I had made it. But I’d forgotten my guitar. We discussed how I might retrieve it but there was no way. It had to be halfway across Russia now. We still thought there’d be a way to record something, so we started planning to.

There was something about work. Some controversy over my edit of a page or two of copy. Then a gathering with friends in which climate change was discussed. It was clear we were completely fucked. I observed several strange creatures, bandaid-shaped, writhing on a desk. Later we were in some underground complex with rooms and businesses. One of them was a head shop. I pointed it out to J. K. “In case you need some papers.”