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Pleasure
𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨!!:// crowd-sourced polemic:/𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝘾𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙩𝙤— counter network operations.
iD-SUS LIVE @ “The Rock” UNIVERSAL SPACE JAME FESTIVAL #2 c/o @nyxo.nyxo @jazzatthebarr @i.d_sus
©️WRL //:2025
iD-SUS LIVE @ “The Rock” UNIVERSAL SPACE JAME FESTIVAL #2 c/o @nyxo.nyxo @jazzatthebarr @i.d_sus
©️WRL //:2025
iD-SUS LIVE @ “The Rock” UNIVERSAL SPACE JAME FESTIVAL #2 c/o @nyxo.nyxo @jazzatthebarr @i.d_sus
©️WRL //:2025
iD-SUS LIVE @ “The Rock” UNIVERSAL SPACE JAME FESTIVAL #2 c/o @nyxo.nyxo @jazzatthebarr @i.d_sus
©️WRL //:2025
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
USJ & PANCAKES @ffffooooooood c/o @theonewhoknows @universalspacejam @jazzatthebarr @griff_spex @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Miho Hatori LIVE set @ffffooooooood Night Shift presented by @slamjam @lee101official
curated by @jazzatthebarr @nyxo.nyxo
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
Fateful Blunt Evening
//:some outtakes from this fateful evening to compliment @world___music__ post; I saw an interesting comment under their post that prompted me to comb these up and perhaps attempt a retelling of the evening, which in some respect felt like being in a celestial noosphere ala Chardin. fate actually interjected itself days prior to this early summer dalliance in ‘22 when the homie GRAVE spotted the enigma swaggering down Norfolk—stymied in his tracks by the baffling passions you’d witness from a pious actor in reverence, he yelped “DEAN!”, much to my repressed dismay.
this n*gga GRAVE loves cold pulling up from 3 like that—decorum be damned. he jogged up with the type of frivolity seldom seen from him and got an audience; he caught wind he was in town to perform. for whom or what—and where—still alluded us but if there’s a career form that can claim GRAVE and I it would be these types of things—y’know, sleuthing around the downtowns searching for “the good word”.
and the good word came in the form of ZHU, the “multihyphenated fixture” amongst downtown’s bravest as he’s become affectionately known, who I believe at the time officially ran with Supreme, probably still does—and such was the word; “supreme”. The Fateful Evening was to occur at Angel Orensanz on the occasion of some June summer evening where the light was most dilated.
maison mobilization had the crew welded like barbecue metal, and it was on. a rare occasion; R, Leek, me, and of course—GRAVE—pulled up to the fine institute heralded for its pantheon of performance and cultural endeavor and everyone I had ever known in New York City was there, and wasn’t. the night rendered lurched like a fever dream, no one even knew whether or not Dean was going to perform. people swayed about the synagogue hall like shell shocked soldiers on the shores of Normandy; part intoxication, part inspirited by anticipation. open bar—you know how that goes.
-cont. in comments-
this is my favorite shot from year ‘25 c/o @club_sensacional block party at @thegroundnyc
thanks Vampiro @_gogito
Rafa’
some Summer night where the peel on beautiful peoples ripened with a soft Litha-kissed shimmer.
//:
2025
Ver Historias de Instagram en Secreto
El Instagram Story Viewer es una herramienta sencilla que te permite ver y guardar en secreto historias, videos, fotos o IGTV de Instagram. Con este servicio, puedes descargar contenido y disfrutarlo sin conexión cuando lo desees. Si encuentras algo interesante en Instagram que quieras revisar más tarde o si prefieres ver historias de forma anónima, nuestro visor es perfecto para ti. Anonstories ofrece una excelente solución para mantener tu identidad oculta. Instagram lanzó la función de Historias en agosto de 2023, adoptada rápidamente por otras plataformas debido a su formato dinámico y temporal. Las Historias permiten a los usuarios compartir actualizaciones rápidas, como fotos, videos o selfies, mejoradas con texto, emojis o filtros, y son visibles por solo 24 horas. Este marco de tiempo limitado genera un alto compromiso en comparación con las publicaciones regulares. En el mundo actual, las Historias son una de las formas más populares de conectar y comunicarse en redes sociales. Sin embargo, al ver una Historia, el creador puede ver tu nombre en su lista de visualizaciones, lo cual puede ser una preocupación de privacidad. ¿Qué hacer si deseas explorar Historias sin ser detectado? Aquí es donde Anonstories resulta útil. Te permite ver contenido público de Instagram sin revelar tu identidad. Simplemente ingresa el nombre de usuario del perfil que te interesa, y la herramienta mostrará sus Historias más recientes. Funciones de Anonstories Viewer: - Navegación anónima: Mira Historias sin aparecer en la lista de visualizaciones. - Sin cuenta requerida: Ve contenido público sin necesidad de registrarte en Instagram. - Descarga de contenido: Guarda cualquier Historia directamente en tu dispositivo para usarla sin conexión. - Ver Destacados: Accede a Destacados de Instagram, incluso fuera del período de 24 horas. - Monitoreo de reposts: Rastrea reposts o niveles de compromiso en Historias de perfiles personales. Limitaciones: - Esta herramienta solo funciona con cuentas públicas; las cuentas privadas permanecen inaccesibles. Beneficios: - Amigable con la privacidad: Mira cualquier contenido de Instagram sin ser detectado. - Fácil y sencillo: Sin instalación de aplicaciones ni registro necesario. - Herramientas exclusivas: Descarga y gestiona contenido de formas que Instagram no ofrece.