None of us were who we were supposed to be. We were all mutations, 'aberrations released from the tyranny of the norm' as Jordyn would say. In the outside world we were terrible. We didn't act right, didn't say things right, stole shit like candy bars and wondered genuinely why people got mad. But the sanctity of the Chemical Spray protected and fed us, kept us separate from the real world and all its constraints and confusing modulations. Together in our jam space or on stages we could connect all of our troubles and weirdnesses and imperfections and output sounds that made sense of it all. That much of our music was met by indifference or open hostility was never surprising but we did have our fans, those refugees of taste and style, those dirty angels.