Rice Rice Baby … Chinese food

The story — in my words

I wrote this one on a particularly grueling Tuesday when I felt like the fluorescent lights were literally sucking the soul out of my skin. I was sitting in a windowless break room, staring at a lukewarm container of number 115 from the place down the street, and it hit me how we turn these tiny moments into religious experiences just to survive the nine-to-five. We cut this in the studio with that specific intention—making a plastic fork feel like a royal scepter. I wanted the track to capture that weird, delirious headspace you get into when you’ve been staring at Excel for six hours straight and a single grain of pork suddenly looks like a miracle. It’s my little tribute to the cubicle crusaders everywhere just trying to get through the afternoon.