Don't ever ask me why I stopped putting creamer in my coffee, I could never give a satisfactory answer. It was like a switch went off one day; I changed up on 'em. What a goofy little thing to be, right? It's entertaining to be that fickle.
I got down the concept of the real shaker of the album, it's called Chicken Choice Judy (RIP Infinity Train). There's been enough feats of strength, enough of being sad, right? Only three tracks in a row of tears, so I'm not a real artist, I guess. The formalism in me creeps back like a virus, you could never shake that churchly Blackness out of me. I envy those in my community that don't ever have to make that part of their mindset, their upbringing. It seems almost alien to me, y'know. It's funny given that Dad is the really theological one, but it was him who decided to skip the assembly. It was Mom who needed the ritual, the Westsider in her.
In this sense I'm thinking it's real "formalist" of me to think "we need a song that's fun." Music doesn't have to be "fun," right? Except it kind of does, in my heart. It's a little death of my horizons, I kind of miss being a virgin. That's not chic of me to say, because I don't pass yet or anything, but I mean it, seriously. I think maybe I should have never taken that plunge at all, it didn't do me any good.
That feeling is part of the inspiration of this album. I'll say, "Hepburn is about sex," and of course there is a revulsion to the idea of it. I of all people have no business trying to sell the concept of music in that ballpark, right? I don't have that appeal, right? But here's the thing... it's not just the cheesy "sex sells" idea. It's really about regret, frustration, shame, and release. Sex examined as a psychological need versus an emotional want. Most of the album is about choosing to *not* try at anything, you understand.
So there's an idea with the sound of this project that is inspired by the music they'd put in those corny pornos from the 80's, right? Bass heavy slow grooves, like a sort of Chuck-E-Cheese Funkadelic. That was the idea, but it got out of hand in the early stages. I kept making these concept clips, they were a little too much, too racy. I scared some friends away. I thought, I need to layer more of the subtext, more of the honest feeling on top of these visuals. And so the style started to change. That's how Leg ended up being so different from the demo I presented to my peers. And it's also how the album cover changed. I needed the cover to be a bit more faded, a bit more elusive in it's meaning. It seems obvious, but it's less literal, more evocative. I think I need to bang my head against the ground a few times so I stop thinking in big words.
SO I decided against myself, I'm not including it. Or maybe I will. Whatever.
It's an awful cover, right? It's boring. It's not doing enough. The other drafts still aren't hitting the right notes.
This one is more current, I guess. I might do this one.
It's irritating, because I'm not a visual artist, y'know? In the same way that I'm not a writer. It's not my trade, not my forte... I might see about a commission. My friend who draws real good is an industry professional, and for my blood, with respect, I'd say he's probably out of my price range these days. He works for Disney now, the real big chiefs. There was a really cool girl I went to high school with, she was a grade ahead I think. I once got a commission from her during Covid. I checked in on her story a few weeks ago, and uh... she's not having the most peaceful time in Bushwick. I should have found time to pick up the physical of it, but it was Covid, and I was a freshman at Wayne then. Time was really difficult to figure for me at that point, and when a week goes by with no pickup, ehhhhh... maybe just leave her to it, I figured. I feel like Epstein Netanyahu Hitler, just from remembering that. I hope she's doing okay, y'know.
I still maintain I didn't make a good impression on that other individual. More on that later.
Hmm. I think maybe I should try to just do a blank page. A white album, or a black album. Because I just don't feel like doing that visual stuff anymore. The idea of working on visuals for the album feels disgusting, it's like hubris. But this is one I'm gonna be doing writing credits for, I'm saving the finished version as a demo reel. I might throw it at something on campus, if Old Main Records still puts anything out. That's what I think would work, but the moonshot is Third Man. If Third Man Records got in touch with a risky email like that, I'd try to lock into whatever I could find with them. As little as I could get, I'd take it.
Now here's the later.
I remember this girl I was maybe (?) sort of friends with (emphasis on maybe) said they might tell me when they have their work on display at The Broad, but I have to be honest with you guys. I don't think I could stomach going up there. In fact, the idea of being in Lansing at all, in any regard, for any reason, feels like playing with a grenade pin. I don't think I should set foot anywhere on that campus.
It's not just because of what was going on with me and my mind, and my relationship. I've had a weird relationship with Lansing for most of my life, actually. My Mom would drag me and my sister along to these college work events all the time because of her job. I remember visiting my cousin up there when she was a student, and God were me and twin were the worst. Twin Teenagers, I could never match the kind of love my cousins have for us. If I had to be around 13-year-old me for more than a day, I'd shoot myself. Those cousins are like sisters to me, and for that privilege I could never be grateful enough. I love them so much.
The first time I ever visited Lansing on purely my own accord would have to be when I was a tag-along in 2020. Despite spending so much time there, it will never feel familiar.
Keep in mind, I'm still feeling good, like yesterday. I'm understanding how I can be worth the trouble, but let me level with you. In achieving any level of clarity, I've realized how obvious my mistakes have been. And it feels safer to just leave some things well alone. Simply acknowledging that I've done the wrong thing doesn't absolve a mistake, it doesn't automatically make everything "better," right? How do you measure the propensity for disappointment from somebody you were never really friends with?
He's not there anymore. So, from there, the only connecting thread is completely gone.
You know I talk to him still? Too much, actually. I say too much. I'm not made for the crowd I found myself in, I guess. All these people, they make so much sense. They say just the right amount of nothing. It sounds like I'm criticizing them, but I'm really not.
You can never really talk to geniuses when you're just a layperson. I could never figure out how to get a Titan to look down at my level. I'm just talking at them. They already know everything, what have I got to add? What could you possibly throw their way that they wouldn't already know about?
NO! THIS IS NOT CONFIDENT! THIS IS NOT HEALED!
Let me take another sip of coffee.
That girl I was talking about? Brilliant. Mr. Peter Parker over in New York? Genius. Mr. Law Firm, over in Troy? He's even smarter. Mother Peyote Anarchist? She's like... transgender Kropotkin. Fuckin' phenomenal. I remember at my birthday kickback she was talking to my Dad about like, critical theology and the Dead Sea Scrolls. And they drove all the way to Detroit to kick back with Ms. Trans Trender Bandcamp User over here, and that's when I was still with my ex!
I really am the best to ever do it, but how did I do it? That's what I wanna know! How did I get to know all these people, how did I get so lucky to have a chance to scare off the greats? What a concept. Wow!
I just had two cokes... two cookies and a coke... phenomenal! Wow!
It's like being able to say that Anne Hathaway called you a bitch, that's what it feels like.
Sometimes I wonder - NO. NO. We're not going that far. None of them are like that... I think.
I'll tell you... it's not the niggas who blow me off. It's never us. Hmm.
But I'm not gonna assume something as grievous as that.
I'm still that girl, by the way. And I'll see you Sunday, whether you like it or not.
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