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While reading SuperPanalo Sounds! I wrote one part of this on the book and the other on my notebook:

Indeed, Peter is a painter. A painter who weaves colors from forbidden open secrets and melodies driven by the unforgiving saxophone screaming from his vinyl disc player. He illustrates the beauty of the morbidity of the rotting esteros, kids swimming in canals alongside crap, with a paintbrush hitting screeching syncopated notes, and on a canvas that is SuperPanalo Sounds! causing a crawling cataclysmic catastrophe of canned consciousnesses, wrecking unceasing havoc on my tabula rasa.

Thanks Baby for this awesome, awesome Christmas gift (and the others - they were indescribably important and useful to me). :) The words are now coming, creeping back. :)