Miley Cyrus killed the goat then stole a yellow submarine

Well, well, well. Where do I begin as I start my third winter with 660? I suppose the obvious; my toes are frozen, my fingers ache, the dog ate my couch cushions, talent here has become abundant and Bubby's Burritos finally makes right turns.

As one whom initially said I would never attempt another winter here past my freshman year, I proudly (with a smidgen of self inquiry), enter my third, though not without expected battle scars, nicknames and the much desired wisdom of those whom have gone before me. I came to 660 Grand, aka RockSoup Studios if you're so inclined, a bright eyed, former label wearing Perez Hilton reading douche baguette and recent Atheist enthusiast and proselytizer reinvigorated by my passion for science. I then found my place with a bunch of fucking hippies, to varying degree's, in a 200+ year old building in Jersey City. It's been a journey into a well of human persona's as I continue to follow the white rabbit down , down, down. I've met the most amazing people, in an even more amazing community struggling to exist in the thick of a corrupt town, in a corrupt state, in a corrupt country in a world in which man thinks they rule. I can only begin to express my gratitude to those I've met along the way but particularly in recent years and even more specifically in the confines of 660. The walls of this building hold music, art and love that is unrepeatable (aside from certain drugs and always certainly lacking genuineness), for which make the winters worth the risk of frostbite, pneumonia, bad wordrobe and trench foot. As the atoms in your body, and the burrito in my belly, I exist here only momentarily but immensely full of life, change, nature and space. I hope to leave a legacy as great as those who have come before me, in a building now solid in the artist community wading in Jersey City with ripples finally reaching New York City and worldwide, as we travel forth carrying the name and address of 660 Grand. Stay tuned and unoffended, and as always go make some fucking art.

= Lish