Sure, I mean, why not – nobody has any real clue how anything works, let alone the entirety of the universe itself. Is there order to it, or is there just chaos, expressed in mathematical constants? I’m not sure I fall on one side or another, I just kind of go with it. What about relativity? What’s vast, what’s miniscule, and how can you tell? This kind of philosophizing is above my pay grade. But it sure breaks my brain to think about it.
So let’s go with Blood Rhythms, then, and assume that The Universe Spilling Out of a Spider’s Bowels (No Part of It) is an ethos, an assumption expressed as physical description that somehow sounds ridiculous off the bat but makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Also, having the sounds of The Universe Spilling Out of a Spider’s Bowels accompanying your thought process does wonders to your mental state. You can really equate starstuff leaking through a gaping wound in a gigantic spider when the transmissions from Arvo Zylo’s pet project are penetrating you like space molecules. Or maybe the spider’s normal size and the universe spilling through it is really tiny. See, I told you this relativity stuff was tricky!
Blood Rhythms is on a drone kick this time around, serving as an energy source as repeated motifs emanate from a failing core and irradiate everything they expand toward. It’s dangerous stuff, as exposure to this pure energy surely carries multiple warning from the Surgeon General. Forget the PMRC, this is the governmental watchdog that must be paid attention to! Zylo and cohorts seize upon the most primordial material and send it our way, with a deep undercurrent of noise humming through the space and time of these seven harsh numbers. See? Imagining a gutted spider as the source of your universe isn’t so weird in the end after all.
Or, no, wait – it definitely is.