It's the same thing I machinated with Ave and Banshee. I'm looking to let the sound build itself. I'm starting with a more gestalt approach of naked bass lines and voice, and I'm gonna master those together. Bit of low pass on those, but leave the drums alone. I'll let them sit atop the mix, but they won't get as much gain. I'm gonna record in BandLab rather than Ableton. I don't like Ableton for vocals, idc.
The songs I tend to write with lyrics are a little jangly sounding. Which I don't hate, I'm still stuck on writing what I want to hear from myself. Which isn't congruent to what I should really be making. I have to think a bit more morose.
The feeling of the sound is resonant with the tones and colors of the most bittersweet dreams from my childhood. The same stuff I wrote about in undergrad. My professor liked those writings. I'm not sure I fully understand what it was about my musings with the autumn haired woman that piqued his interest. I'm not sure I understand what people like these days. I don't make what I make to suit that fascistic pageantry; what I know to be pleasing to others. I don't move towards that anymore. I make only what possesses me.
I do write with such a rancor of prose, it's a mess of repetitions. I can only hope to exacerbate this affliction of words. I don't want to lose it. I can't.
ICE kidnapped a toddler and used him as bait to put his family in the concentration camps. The lives of those taken are lives that rest within me. I don't have the ability to compartmentalize and forget. But I'm not helpless... I can't deny the pull. I feel as if I should do something reckless again. It feels like I'm lacking in some essential faculties. Every single other person my age has it figured out more than me. I don't care to remember how that is certainly not correct. It feels true, regardless.
I don't want to wear this face anymore. I don't want to be known anymore. I like crowds, I like the gridlock of the city. I don't like being alone.
I can't committ to staying off socials, but I might do it this time. For good. I might never be on there again. I'm hoping I'm as wrong as always. If I'm truly to leave, it won't just be from social media. It would be from the world as we know it.
It would be finally getting a remote job. Something menial, something pointless. And then I could stay away from everyone, and everything. There would be nothing to attatch my face to. I'd send the money to my sister, and they wouldn't have to know where I am. I'd just be nothing.
Soon, everybody I know would forget my face. Everybody I know would forget my name. They would forget the sound of my voice. I can be something less than a memory.
I can't allow myself to act on emotions like this, so I "blog" them out of my mind. I set them aside from my heart.
I wish I was a better person for her. I wish I wasn't me.
Just pathetic sad bullshit, I'll get over it. I'll go to work tommorow and forget everything.
I'll always forget.
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