Jay Smith: In a cruel, unfeeling universe where the dark sturmwolken of misery and the winds of inevitable entropy loom, punctuated by the sudden crash of terrible thunder signifying the sudden, shocking reminders of our collective doom, Jay Smith emerges from the tumult. With eyes darkened and damaged by the vast, ruined landscapes of human misery, he looks upon you and sees all that cowers behind your rictus grimace. His escapist audio fantasies, like HG World and Hidden Harbor Mysteries, are balms to the wounded and distressed, tapestries woven with threads of existential dread and cosmic absurdity. In this chiaroscuro symphony, every word is a brushstroke, every sound a haunting melody that reverberates through the void and yet as fleeting a respite as a drop of water to the man drowning in sand. With a wit as delicious and painful as sugared shattered glass and a mind as twisted as a demigod teething on a cosmic Möbius strip, Smith invites listeners to journey through the bloodied and blackened corridors of the human subconscious, where reality bends and reality breaks, until there is nothing left but the sweet prayer in hope of a merciful afterworld. He is also into westerns, pop culture, and loves kittens.
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