I've canceled my record release party a second time. I'm sorry to those of you that mentioned traveling for it, or have held off purchasing my new albums to do it in person. I haven't slept in a week, and I just don't feel like I can put on the kind of quality show I want to put on for a party that features brownies and cookies and juice.
It may just be the "ug" of sleeping alone in a big tomb of a house, it may be Lumas' dogmares kicking me in the groin when I finally do nod off, it may be the ever mounting terror that accompanies the growing evidence that my roommate is a serial killer, or any combination of these things. There's something weird going on - I've got an iron deficiency that's made prominent bruising around my eyes. I can't help but think there's some poetic justice in it: I'm working all day (and now nights) on an album about zombies, and in the process I start to resemble one. Maybe it's the universe's way of saying I need to identify with my antagonists more. I'm sorry. Lu keeps interrupting my work for hugs and snugs and then pulling me out to the backyard. When we get there, he doesn't want to play, or deficate, he just watches me to see if I'll shrink in the sunlight. We watch the stream for a while, it's shriveled up and impotent this time of year. Then I go back inside and settle into the chair again and listen to these beautiful songs. Somewhere inside me I know I won't sleep until this album is done. It completes everything for me
sorry
sorry
sorry
sorry
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