thedogsense

As your derelict body heaves through prehistoric sludge, each subsequent relief is unceremoniously swallowed by the sediment that entrenches you. The thought of sinking into the putrid indiscriminate masses of concession collected below orbits your mind, at least serving to distract you from the laborious trudge you’ve embarked on. At last your pathetic squirming reaches its culmination as your footing fails. In that infinite expanse of catastrophe you hear whispers of Karaoke Queens, Window...

Emulsified in a strangely familiar slick, your thoughts aimlessly wander in disarray, unsure where or why you are. While desperately tracing through the fog a inexplicable flicker of hope relays that soon critical synaptic events will fire to bridge the gulf of confusion. In that warped corridor of time a strange irritable buzzing vibrates through your cochlea. Effervescent heckling outlines the limits of piss-soaked metropolis’s, eating fancy in New York, advanced jean hustling techniques,...

Your nostrils flare as its nasal connective tissue shrivels away from the surface membrane agitated by the all too familiar but never welcomed aroma of sterile detergent soaked halls. Incoherent howls emanate through a series of secure control doors while practiced hands dance about access pads ushering you towards the source of the mania. What lies before you possesses all cues of a care home for those afflicted by dementia. Between the penetrating shrill cries you make out conversation...

Always trust a fella with a bible on their heart & Blender in their taskbar, or say sayeth Peri- our tortured first guest. In holy communion we prostrate ourselves between Ali’s asinine divine gesticulations. As we flick through this seasons almanac our eyes are gilded with truths gleaned from cumulative career Psychic damage, CNC Operator grind, the art of Tray Drifting, Cabinet Guy Forum rumination, Drain Gang drooling, Furry Economy speculation, Digital Art ascension, with a bout of AI...

With our foreheads set to the floor, we solemnly swear that we will never produce such a garbage episode after skipping a week. Have mercy on Seth’s tortured soul which was hurled into catastrophe as a consequence of piecing together the dismembered mangled limbs that constitute this episode. If you listen closely our nails can be heard scraping against the tarmac in desperate attempt to collect our thoughts on Underground Asian cuisine spots, trauma bond on Bus Public transport, grieve for...

Eyes rolled back & limbs sprawled across a lino floor, a state not even a mother could love- is where we find ourselves in this cesspool of a podcast. Allow your axons to cook as the fit takes hold & we stammer sweet nothings about our begotten experiences on & off line. This episode we lament the existence of non-e-commerce Artists, despise trappings of online Fashion designer Cults, extrude destain for Drop Shipping culture, explore the semiotics of Fit authentication cops, plea for...

Kicking off