Your skin looks tired and your eyes look hollow, but I’m on tour! EUROPE – May, June Edinburgh Fringe – August North America – October Buy my new novel “Acts of God”, now (subcontinent only for now.) All links in bio. Drop your skincare routine here!
On tour now! Europe – May, June Edinburgh Fringe – August North America – October My debut novel “Acts of God” available for purchase (Indian Subcontinent only for now). All links in bio!
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
Paris, Köln, Birmingham, Manchester, London, London, Glasgow. Weeks: 2, Sun sightings: 1 Having a wonderful time on tour, wind in sails, liquids in a clear plastic bag, etc. Shows have been great in fine skies of brutalist undies. Perfect weather for my highschool playlist. Thank you for coming! I’m on tour in Europe till the end of June, taking pictures this time to prevent iPhone memories from becoming glum slideshows of boarding pass screenshots. All links in bio. You really should do the exercises the physio told you to, it’s not going to get better on its own.
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
21 shows, 19 cities, 3 illnesses, 2kg. Touring (parts of) Europe was immensely rewarding. Thank you for coming. . . . “Do you ever worry about becoming a self-parody?” The clump of moss on the rock face frowned for a minute. “In what sense? It’s your move, by the way”, it said indicating the chessboard stapled to the overhang. “In the sense of becoming an employee of a previous version of yourself that was free.” A passing eagle coughed pointedly at how loud we were being. I pressed myself closer to the rock face. “Nope” said the moss, quite loudly, ignoring my shushing. “Being moss is embracing the plurality of existence, in the sense that there is no singular moss, there are outlines until there is mossing, and that space in which there is moss-ness, is moss. Dude seriously it’s your move.” The chessboard has no pieces, since we were high up an infinite rock face and it was stapled sideways. “So you’re talking about being as a process—“ “—A mossess”, corrected the moss. “But you can still take a sliding window of the continuous change of self and call it who you used to be—“ “—what is this really about?” Interrupted the moss, finally lowering it voice and putting away its Nokia Ngage. “That I’m worried lasting growth is impossible and decay is inevitable. I keep climbing from epiphany to epiphany, never further off the ground; fingers clasped around realisation, finding the odd abscess of wisdom to rest in. I’ve moved so much, but I’m still here.” A shower of embarrassed rocks fell past from heights unknown to depths infinite, mumbling apologies. I wept bitterly. “Ah silly” said the moss ruffling my hair. “There’s nowhere to reach. The path isn’t the climb, it’s the climber. You don’t scale these heights. You hang on till you fall off one day.” A shuddering relief left my lips. “That’s it?” “That’s it, smiled the moss. “Now, do you want to play your turn?” “Sure. Knight to E3!” “Dude this is Ludo.”
🏴, 🇫🇷
Hej! Coming to North America this October! All tickets in bio. DC tickets will be out next month, promise. How are you?
Hej! Coming to North America this October! All tickets in bio. DC tickets will be out next month, promise. How are you?
