- Boston Hipster: What's this called?
- New York Friend: Fritz the Cat.
- Boston Hipster: Not my cup o' tea.
- New York Friend: Oh really? Must be yuh natural aversion to tea, eh?
- Boston Hipster: Yea, it loses me.
- New York Friend: Ah I see. Yuh lost in the music my friend; need to be shown the way. Its subtle you see, the way of the beat, until finally it hits yuh feet, like yuh doin' there. There's a dynamic deviance from the norm of your conventional song and yet it remains ancient like yuh body's known it for years. Instead of screaming difference it breathes exceptionallism, flows smooth like a cool creak on a midsummer's eve, frollicking about the ears of man like a cat, you see. Its why they call it Fritz the Cat, you can almost see 'em. Surely you can understand the value of something that doesn't make you feel life but rather suggests it. It's quite tangible my friend, just reach. I find it curious how you can still be tapping to a song that "loses" you unless yuh trully lost in it, because you've never felt a calm so enthusiastically inspiring before. Quite a contradictory existence isn't it?...well, you and Fritz I guess I could say. You find it "beneath" yuh standards, but yuh feet beneath you say otherwise. Fritz on the otherhand, lures that calm, selling to yuh mind that its safely settled into a smooth and somberless serenity. A feat thats only fractured by the wonderment of the human mind once it hears that cool voice, and back again plucks the cello. What a rollercoaster of relaxation, the greatest mindtrip a song could ever deliver. So, whad'ya think of Fritz the Cat now my friend?
- Boston Hipster: What's that?
- New York Friend: I said it'd probably help if you took those headphones off first.
"Little solace comes to those who grieve when thoughts keep drifting as walls keep shifting and this great blue world of ours seems a house of leaves moments before the wind."