Ok, team, I'm trying something a little new today.
Ordinarily the following is not something I would share, but I'm feeling both self indulgent and emotionally fragile, so here goes. I'm working on a new album - not sure exactly where I'm going with it yet. The inciting incident for the themes behind it was one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. I feeI it's important to say that I was not physically harmed during this incident in anyway, so please don't read my reticence to discuss it as trauma. I'm ok, mostly. But I don't talk about it much - when I do, people tend to say "Oh, but that'll be a really funny story someday". It's been a year and a half. Still not funny.
The lyric book I'm on right now - the one where this album will be assembled -was purchased right before my life fell to shit, as previously referenced in this blog. On the first page there's an address. It's for a hotel in London where I spent New Year's Eve 2016. New Years is my favorite holiday - that year I slept through it because the idea of being awake at that moment was ludicrous. It set the stage nicely for the year to come, to be honest.
I cant erase the address. It feels important to this record, somehow. So Friday night I as I was waiting to perform with my friend Chris's band in Queens I drank half an old fashioned and vomited out the emo trash at the bottom of this page. I'm sharing it here because I want this next album to be emo trash. I want it to reflect my actual fears and feelings, the opposite of the clever way I present my feelings in lyrics about things I've moved past. I want it to be tragic and immediate and overwhelming and horrifying and nauseating. Here's where I am so far:
Anyway. In the spirit of forcing my uptight self to be more emotionally transparent, FOR THE SAKE OF THE ALBUM, here is some unedited stream-of-consciousness about some Feelings I had the other day. Enjoy!
This book begins with an address where I went when I was displaced. When I had no where else to go. It was too clean, but his house was too dirty. His house was so cold. Every surface felt wet. I didn't sleep. I had no way to sleep. I slept through New Years in that tiny hotel room like a fucking coffin. I couldn't find the light switch. Where was all the good tv? They have great tv in England and I couldn't find it. I found a grocery store and got this shitty sandwich. I should have gone to dinner. I should have made him buy me dinner. I should never have come. His room mate was so nice to me. I'm sorry for the names I called him. Megan couldn't take me right away so I fixed it, I didn't stay. Why the fuck did he want me to stay? He wanted me to meet his mother. Who introduces some dumb bitch from overseas to their mother unless she matters? He begged me to see him again and then almost ditched me for a hangover. I'm glad he felt guilty. I hope he feels guilty about this til he dies. How in gods name does the universe want me to believe anyone ever again?