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Category: Writing and Poetry

10/14-10/6 Recording Session Journal Entries

Sorry I’ve been absent, dear non-existent or non-essential reader. Been very busy with work and preparing for the recording sessions. I’ve spent 70+ hours on the automated click tracks. I’ve yet to write on many things. I’ve much to write! I’ve been quite reflective recently and paralyzed with the synesthetic assault of my OCD. I won’t censor much so if some sentiment is retarded or cringe it’s the idealism of a young man that wants anything at all. Including a threesome which in delusional conviction I am convinced will solve all my mental health crises. At the very least it would be ‘sick’. 

October 4th, 2024

I feel like my veins will explode inside my body. I will be rendered inert. I feel like my wrists might slit themselves. I feel like invisible razorblades will slit my wrists. The message in my brain fires off. 

Slit your wrists.
Slit your wrists.
Slit your wrists.
Slit your wrists. 

I am hyper-aware of the delicate tender flesh.
Of the running pressure, and the flexibility of my joints. The stretch of the skin. Every cell, every wrinkle, folding in and out. 
My stomach churns, my head pounds. Sleep is more exhausting than waking hours because I am hunted by nightmares. I think the stress of the record is flaring my OCD up. I can’t stop thinking about slitting my wrists which disturbs me. I touch cloth and it feels like I am gagged with socks. Like my teeth are brushed by red velvet. I hear a sharp frictive resonance of cloth against cloth in the morning when my guitar case slides away and another guitar case slides down against another now that it is no longer propped up. My spine rejects the noise. I feel my nerves tingle, snap. A cold chill. My teeth feel like I am gagged by red velvet, again. On my tongue and and on the enamel. I feel the spectral aura of my wrists fling outwards so that transcendental razorblades can slice my fictional veins, my abstract veins. Then, in my fear my intestines flip over themselves and knot at the thought of my real veins hemorrhaging and subsequently I would drop dead. 

October 6th, 2024


Occurring to me how strange it is that we’re finishing this record on the anniversary of the October 6th attack. So much has happened. The world deteriorates faster than I can grasp at it. We deteriorate. Was it always like this? Were we always like this? Can we hold onto any temporary peace? Are we condemned to violence against each other forever? Is that how god punished us? By pitting us against each other? I always thought we were subdivisions of god torturing ourselves for the audacity to want company. I wonder what I’m doing, how one foolish man can try any stupid gesture or action to change it all. What else can we do but try?



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