10/3/25 - Adrielle

They're sending the flotilla passengers to Ketziot. They're sending them to Israeli Gitmo, or more like Abu Ghraib. I applaud the bravery of these activists, but I must say... it seems like peace is not the answer here. I think we're going to have to get our hands dirty.

Now, I don't think I'm special or anything, I'm not Superman y'know. But I have to say that doing just the peaceful kind stuff is starting to bug me. It's a bug in my brain. I can't help but feel like we all have a call to action that we're just too afraid to heed. We're afraid for the right reasons, of course... but I think we might need to do it afraid. "Do it afraid" has been so helpful to me.

The only Palestinian who seems to always be in my DMs is this guy who has learned my pay schedule and demands money every day. It's a little hawkish. I'm not sure what to do in that situation. It's weird, because nobody can say that a person living through a genocide doesn't have the right to use all the tools at their disposal to get support. No telling how desperate we'd all be in the same situation. The history of how enslaved and imprisoned people manage to survive with very few options available shows that stuff like this is known quantity. But, I feel like there is definitely some grey area in this stuff, where an overt, targeted persistence on certain people based on name-searching groupchats can be a bit questionable. If Ahmed didn't tell me about that, I probably would have never known that was a thing they're doing. I'm not interested in browbeating some of the most vulnerable people on the planet, so I'll end this here.

This stuff is so fucking weird.

It's so goddamn weird.

I need Remas and Manal to respond back, I'm getting worried. I know E-Sim service is pretty bad. I just really want to know they're alive.

This is a form of "activism" that I never thought would be a thing, you know. It's like, bizarre. Weird. I don't think I like it. I will continue to help as much as I can, but I feel like this is just too... modern? Talking to a concentration camp prisoner on WhatsApp to talk about when we might transfer donation money from the internet, right after having a ki with a different prisoner (love Remas that's my girl) about your favorite kinds of tea and what coney dogs taste like. This whole global situation has completely warped my sense of normalcy. What the fuck is going on, is what I think every single day. I don't understand anything, actually.

Here's a different topic: I have a new name! I made it myself; I didn't want the name I use for the rest of my life to be one decided for me by my ex. There should also be a clarification, I'm not erasing/deadnaming "Gabriel Daniel," as much as I'm making those two middle names instead of a first and middle name. BUT... do not call me Gabriel, a little outdated. Gabe is okay for some of you guys, but I would prefer to be called by my chosen name.

It is a portmanteau of three different names. I have always loved the meaning and majesty of my original name, Gabriel. The name of a messenger archangel, known to play his horn at the end of days. He's just like me, because I quadruple text people and I play brass!

The other two names are names I've always loved, Adrienne and Audrey, but I could not in good conscience change my name to those because I used to know people with those names and they still follow me and that would seem weird, right?

My new name I decided on is Adrielle. I wanted to spell it Adriel, but my sister said the spelling wasn't feminine enough. Lame! But it's Adrielle! Call me what you like, but that is my name. Don't feel embarrassed if I introduce myself as that.

The song I'm thinking of is Love You To, by The Beatles. It was one of George Harrison's tracks on Revolver, a raag infused psych rock piece. That particular sound is a big influence on Hepburn right now.

It's always Hepburn, Hepburn, Hepburn with this bitch. 

Hepburn this, Hepburn that. Hepburn please, bitch Hepburn, Hepburn have you lost your mind? Hepburn, check that hoe! Hepburn, you bullshitting, break yourself Hepburn!

She says it so much I don't even notice it anymore. Just the other day, at lunch, she says, can a Hepburn borrow a French Fry? And when she said, I didn't think, "Oh my God, she said the word, the H word!" No, I was thinking "How is a Hepburn gonna borrow a Fry? Hepburn, is you gonna give it back?"

So Unseen is done, just have to do some saturation and eq. You guys have no idea how good you've got it on this project. You guys are swimming in the sauce here. Once I get Medusa and Chanel finished, it'll be halfway finished. The rest are our groove tracks! That's the real meat of the album, the deep cuts! The inspirations on those are Kraftwerk, Thomas Dolby, Stereolab, and Ballroom music (like when the dolls get down, not Rococo). There is a song you (yes, you) should check out called Get Out Of My Mix, by Thomas Dolby. Same guy who did She Blinded Me With Science.

This is such an awful time period to be doing fun stuff. I feel like a dickhead for having my life turn around. It's such a lame, dishonest feeling to have. But I'm happy! Somehow, I'm happy. And upset. At the same time!

God, make it make sense. Love you, see you soon.

10/1/25 - Down By The Ocean

It sucks that Patti Smith is as incredible as she is, especially given that she has mostly good politics, because then it's like... why did you name your song that? I still stan, though I reserve the right to pass judgement on that particular thing.

The only reason I'm thinking about this is because I'm currently listening to Horses.

I was lookin' for yo-o-uuuu, and now you're gone-gone

I don't know why specifically Redondo Beach is my favorite song she did, I think maybe there's just something wrong with me.

I got pushed so far into the artsy weirdo pocket that in my eyes, the idea of writing lyrics and singing on a track feels like making "normal music." And it is NOT. Despite my bias. I think given my fundamentals as a musician and techno head, my capacity to enjoy the process of writing lyric-focused stuff has been stunted. Severely stunted. I feel like I've also been falling into a certain trap with comparing myself to everyone else. Like, I don't want to make music like Charli XCX, so why am I thinking "I don't think Charli would like this," ???? Like? The brain worms are potent, y'know.

This lady at work is fucking PISSED that she lost her kid. I was teaching a class in the computer lab, so I had no ability to know whether a kid in boxing left the building or not. I hope she's just in the bathroom or something, I couldn't stomach the idea her kid wandered off somewhere. This is the part of my job that makes me uncomfortable.

This music is the kind of stuff that would be in a weird segment of an adult animated movie where the characters get high or some trite thing like that. When I'm high I feel like watching Thomas The Tank Engine, how are you guys listening to Primus?

I saw the news about the Flotilla... I'm genuinely trying not to cry. I can't do this right now.

Seeing the news knocked the wind out of me. When I got home from work after hearing the news, I was thrown into a world of grey. I don't see anything right now. I don't want to feel anything right now.

I literally just sat on the couch making an edit about my body image problems. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I do that? Why am I like this? I can't stomach myself today.

I made a new friend at work. I just wish that today was a good day for those people. It should have been a good day for those kids in Gaza.

I'm sorry guys. I had to stop writing for a second to wipe my face. I feel like writing that out, reading that out, that probably sounds fake as fuck. It probably sounds like I'm playing it up for you guys. Im really not. I'm crying right now and I'm so fucking upset.

Why did the world decide being a good person wasn't cool anymore? Why is this the world you people want? I don't understand you people, why do you want this? Why do you want this? I don't understand. I can't understand. Im trying so hard to keep it together and be a good adult about all of this, but I can't! I can't!

I'm gonna record. I'm gonna think, I'm gonna move. They deserve a better world than this. They deserve a better species than ours.

Ill see you soon guys.

10/1/25 - Not A Lot, Just Forever

I was listening to that song by Adrianne Lenker, Not A Lot, Just Forever.

Trust a song like that to turn me to an old sap again. It made me think about too much.

I don't know when I shook off the irony. I don't remember the exact day or time. Except as I'm writing, I remember. I remember when it happened.

I remember the confusion when it happened. I remember seeing her girlfriends's tweets. How she didn't know what was going on. She didn't believe it. I didn't understand what was going on. I remember finding the letter. I was so confused, and then I read. And it all felt like a joke.

I remember where I was when I found out that Eden died. I was in Frankenmuth, on a family trip. I was in a restaurant, they had the best barbecue, the best. And I didn't give a shit about any of that. I was so full of the arsenic, the pain of that sick fucking joke. It was like...

I don't pretend to understand what life has made me become. I just hope I can do right by her through all my days.

I'm only just watching the BBC Doc about Eden. It's like a kind of slow acting cyanide. I'm getting a headache. I remember all of these pics, I remember her talking about this stuff... Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I feel nauseous.

The doc mentions everything, every single little thing. I remember the anxiety I felt when I noticed she dropped off socials for a minute. When her gf said she didn't know where she was. It's just...

I'm letting the emotions do their thing. I'm not fighting it, I've decided. Everything I am. I'm gonna be the best.

I decided that I want to give myself a new name. Not just for music, but for like, life, y'know. I love my name, I love Gabriel... but its connotation holds me back from being seen as I really am.

There are names I like but I cannot take. There are already folks I know with those names, I feel like it'd be awkward to have the same name as them. It'd be like, social theft, idk.

In embracing who I really am, being authentic, I realize something. I am not chill. I'm not a vibe. I'm not approachable by everyone. I am wonderful, and I am myself. Everything that I am is real, and there are ways in which my actions, my manner can push away some people. Let them go, I'm not going to capitulate.

I finally found myself free of the spiral I got sucked into back then. I was never a factor, and thank goodness for that. I should have lived a better life. I was crazy, I was being stalked and controlled, that's my fault. Honestly, I should have just never said anything. Even if it was about giving thanks, talking about escaping all of that. To say anything was too much. I can only imagine how difficult it's been for her. There's been a lot lately, y'know. I don't know how she does it.

Tired. We'll pick it up at work.

And here we are!

Why do they always play Little House on the Prairie on the work TV? This is a Black community. 

In all seriousness, this show is actually really good, and I hate that. It's hard to believe TV shows used to be shot and lit like that. It literally just looks like a movie, but not in that usual Primetime TV way. In it's visual direction, in the way they move the camera.

There is some different news. Unseen is done, it's just in the mastering phase. I like the direction of this album. I do think it is not radio made, but that was kind of the idea, y'know? Part of it was, I'm kinda tired of normal. I'm tired of tailored and clean. In sound, in music, I mean.

"Gabe, none of your music was ever tailored and clean."

What about Modern Prometheus, huh? And especially HKGHT. One day I will release the real masters for that one, of the tracks I did. For real. You'll hear the difference, I stg.

You'll hear the difference. You'll hear the difference, I promise.

That song is still stuck in my head. God, I hate songwriting. It's witchcraft, all writing is witchcraft. It's so intoxicating. The particular creative discipline I chose for myself is such a revealing sort, y'know.

It is always so fun when people just start saying bullshit at work. Why are we talking about Teyana Taylor? Why does it matter that Cardi B had sex while she was pregnant? Who are you?

He said that Cardi B is a whore (woah!).

"What would be your definition of a 'whore'" - Well Intentioned Coworker Lady.

"A whore is... a cumbucket." - Crazy Nigga That Doesn't Even Work Here.

... I heard about the Sumud. Don't talk to me. They will not kill them, because if they do, I will make some very poor decisions. Let me keep it at that.

Anyways, I'll see you guys soon. Sun Cult Forever, love you.

9/30/25 - White Castle

The Sumud is first and goal right now. They can't fumble, they cannot choke. We need our team to make it to the end zone, we need boots on the ground in Gaza.

Checking in with all of my friends, both American and Palestinian. I need to know how my loved ones are holding up.

You would not believe the things these kids tell you in their innocence. It's, sometimes, a little uncomfortable. My job does involve me in communication with the kids of our community, I learn so much from what I do. The single greatest reward my job offers to my life is the ability to communicate with the youth and understand their needs. There is so much humanity in what I have been chosen to do, you know. In the tongue of warmth, we compel each other to speak of what is needed, not only of what it is feared.

Kids will tell you so innocently about their fathers threatening their mothers with violence, y'know. Or, they might reveal, unknowingly, the ways in which they've been abused in recent days. It's stuff like that, y'know. Detroit is a beautiful place, but it is a human place. There is a whole lot of emotion that seeps through the cracks. That sort of golden sunshine that pokes through the clouds above this city in the fall conceals a sadness that is carried in the hearts of nearly all of the city's natives.

I look at the news, of course I look at the news. That special brand of politically motivated narcissist I've become in my youth was born of a chemical imbalance caused by endless broadcasts of Afghan War updates. My parents are both geniuses, it's the worst kind of wonderful to be blessed with as a child. You're not allowed to be stupid in that house, I was gonna be an Einstein whether I liked it or not.

I look at the news, and I see the Nazis have arrived in Chicago. I don't know what I expected. Why did I think nothing was gonna happen? It got to me. Worked myself stiff, and my mind stood still. I have to get active.

I've grown accustomed to the warmth of the lay. I stopped being somebody to be a steward of opportunity for the kids. I guess sometimes it feels like a worthy sacrifice, but sometimes I think Mister Rogers would be disappointed in that resignment I've assigned to my station. I mean the Mister Rogers from TV, I do.

I see beautiful smiles every day at work. I work in the sunshine, in the morning of our world. It makes it difficult to remember the reality outside. I don't cower from the facts of it, the experience of it, but I lament the limitations of this peace.

I remember one of her friends was a genius. The kind you really have to look out for, y'know? I could never understand what she saw in her ex, but I guess I can understand her mindset a little more. I guess I know how to pick 'em, too.

Ironic.

I was thinking about how Nico was a Nazi. Yes, Nico, the singer who did the songs with Lou Reed. That Nico. 

You always wish that a "genius" would get the right answers on everything. It’s never that easy. A genius is only just a person who's really good at one thing. There are billions of regular people in this world that are supremely intelligent, capable and kind, and they aren't geniuses. They're something much better.

My goal is to be one of the legion of regular people that push society forward towards a better future. I want to be part of the community that changes the world, I want to be one of the billions. I don't want to be an idol, a figure. I'm a person. I believe that. I know that.

Webcam (Eggo Waffle Underwear)

 I remembered I have a camera on my laptop

I still look like a boy you can throw your tomatoes later

Okay so the picture with boobs out look better but for obvious reasons I will NOT be posting those. No. Those are for Twitter.

Okay I'm going to bed actually now good night guys!

9/29/25 - Dreams

So when I'm drunk I write like that. I think maybe I do like myself.

Today I was put into the mood to indulge. I've become attached to the method and dream of David Lynch's works, again and again. It's a spell that is cast on the senses, a tug at my feelings that I am powerless to resist. In the world of dreams, we see too much, and for this revelation, our hearts will always be enough. Truthtellers of the mind, our subconscious will keep the score, tallied in a place we can never know. Comfort and suffering are sisters in arms. Their vexes and vices entangled with their pleasures. Whether it's you or me... let yourself fall into the spectrum of R.E.M. messaging. You'll find an answer.

When writing the many stories and manuscripts of the maladaptive individuals that stay in my mind, the world of the ZRD I machinated so many years ago, I was chiefly inspired and motivated by the faces and scenery of my dreams. The events of the story were often inspired more by feelings than stakes. My music tends to manifest as an expression of the subconscious. It doesn't always come out as something I initially intend to create. In my creations, there is a certain static, a certain feeling that I do not feel in anything else I hear. It is the one thing I know I must never let go of, that static. It's like a lymphatic alchemy, a neuronic cuddle. When writing this entry, I have let my fingers type what they want to type. I'm taking less inventory in the department of editing and sense, and I'm letting my anima take over.

What draws a lot of people to David Lynch as a creative is not simply an appreciation of the visual aesthetics, or formalist examinations of the skill of his actors, or surface level analyses of the direction of his projects. There is, in both his works and his words, a revelation of the emotional world that connects all people. There is an understanding of our sadness as individuals that creates an uncanny, but warm sense of community between those who admire his persona and work.

I see the same sort of electricity in the works of one of my favorite directors and writers, Yoshiyuki Tomino.

GET. OFF. SOCIAL MEDIA. NOW.

ENOUGH WITH THE TWIN PEAKS! AND THE GUNDAM!

Okay I'm healed. Let's indulge again. I'm gonna work on music and check back with you guys! <3

All of my clothes are too big. They're men's clothes. You can't even tell I'm shaped the way I am from how I dress, it is hilarious. My passability would improve tenfold if I just wore some more form fitting stuff I think. I do miss getting fucked, let me be honest. It's frustrating. So to say that I swore it off on principle is indicative of deprivation.

If I just let that happen again I think the smarticles could loosen up a bit and go to work again. I'm thinking that might have to be the new side mission. Main tasks are work and savings, obviously. But to inform good work, I need a good thrashing I think. This is not something you're supposed to say in good company, and is something that one should have some shame about. But this is my blog, it is truth teller dot com. There's like, allusions that could be implemented in the future to soften the blow of reality I think. Reframe it as a spa day.

What's up everyone, it's your boy on G96! Today, I need a facial! 

I keep watching those videos of people eating at Michelin star restaurants where every course is like a single bite of weird looking food, but there's like 30 courses so it evens out. Hmm.

It's been several months since I had a Michelin star meal downtown, and I'm hearing shapes and tasting sounds!

I'm done, I promise. What are you supposed to do about this? Will Zoloft help me become celibate? Can you sell Zoloft under the table and if so who is selling it and where can I buy it? Where? Please. I hate this.

It's like. I'm not ready for that dive again? Dating, I mean. It's criminal, it's ridiculous. How can I feel ready for that? But also I am ready. I'm too ready. If there's a man or woman out there who wants to drain my bank account and bite my earlobe, I need him or her to know that there's currently open enrollment here. It's not a good school, but I can cook and have a car.

I remember he told me "All Art Is Masturbatory" recently when I was talking about feelijg unmotivated to finish the album, and I'm halfway thinking as I read that text, "hmm say that again but attatch a visual aid this time."

In the moment after thinking that I realized I need to speed up the antipsych prescription process by 1000%. If I take the right medicine I won't be gay anymore, right? Is that how it works?

I don't think I took anything today... did I? Did I take something? I don't remember. I feel like I took a chocolate? Like an edible or something? The edible chocolate bar that tastes like ___? Is that what did it? I think that did it.

Hannnnnnnds across the water...

Hannnnnds up to the sky...

We're so sorry... Uncle Albert... I could really use a "drink" right about now.

But we didn't mean to cause you any pain...

Flip on the TV, its drywall. Nothing is hot, no warmth! Nothing is sexuality in it's feeling or essence. Its a dictionary definition now... it's so demoralizing.

To see their face light up from above or below... the feeling of being pressed against them. A bite or a kiss, to get a good grip on the sides.

Fuck this is so exhausting... why did this have to happen today. I was doing really good not caring or thinking about it but it's starting to get ridiculous. Touch starved is such an understatement. There was that bit from the Office where Meredith was talking about it. She hadn't smashed in like, 20 years, so she couldn't emotionally handle any prolonged touch with another person whatsoever. It's like the whole body was an erogenous zone, is what she said. It's funny because it really isn't!

Don't touch me, please don't touch me. I'm not going pathologize my shortcomings, I'll just call a spade a spade: I'm maybe not mentally equipped to be in a relationship right now. I'd combust. Except I really want to be with someone. Anyone. And it's getting harder to not feel crazy about it.

I'm gonna finish tonight's works and go to bed. I'm doing okay (!!!!!!!) I'll post again soon, take care!

9/28/2025 - Cabaret

 So I made some mistakes last night! Small mistakes, nothing I can't fix, but still. I left my phone at the bar, was too sloshed to stay coordinated. I'll have to visit later today to get it back. My friend left his card there too, that's what we get taking those massive swigs of Guinness with abandon. I will tell you reader, I am in fact inebriated while writing this. This should tell you just how bad that psychological episode was that my literacy fell out of form, because the one thing I can never shake in 99% of circumstances, no matter how dire, is my ability to pontificate.

Hanging out with Mr. Renaissance is always the greatest treat. Not a tear shed, only the best vibes. Even when running at loss, it's nothing but fun. I am privileged to have such incredible friends, such remarkable characters to share moments with. I remember regaling him of my regrets in seeing a friend in an unfavorable circumstance at the conference, but in his impartial audience I was reassured of the peace of the present, the horizon of the future. It is in these moments I am humbled by the mercy of God. Such a fickle world... I told Mr. Renaissance of the close yet unlikely friendships I've developed with Manal and Remas. Such a curious thing. In pleading to international strangers for support amidst the worst of times, the most unthinkable circumstances, they find organizers, and friends. The genocide has created a circumstance to connect with those they otherwise would have never met, never saw kinship with. How could the most demonic, most violent and gut-wrenching experience possible on Earth become an opportunity to connect?

The world is like this, friend. Let us appreciate the magic of it while we can. None of us are safe, all of us can be friends.

Tonight as I sit tired after a night out drinking, remembering fondly the good and the bad, I have found the meaning of life. Yea, let the good humor of life work a cosmological magic on me, so that I may forget what I learned after I wake. What would be the fun in believing I had it all figured out? What a conceited way to live, lmao.

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