I have made more noise
I have made more noise
Half an hour of discomfort, dysphoria, and discontent bathed in neon noise and electrohorror melodies.
All of my flaws have been eating away and this space has become a cavity. In my dreams I feel like someone else, and I start to feel like myself. Sometimes I feel like if there are other places, other versions of me, then the way I feel is who all of those others are, and it’s this that is the aberration. This is the anomaly. And it feels like, sometimes, those other versions, god, they get so close to me, sheets of paper stacked together, books in rows beside one another, and when we’re close enough together, and we’re held up to the light, we can see each other – we can feel each other, captured in transparency. When we’re covered in water, and we start to drown, all of our ink does bleed in together, forming a perfect, distorted whole. And when I see those others versions, I think – there I am. That’s really me. I am not this mistaken thing. And then it happens again, and I feel it inside of me, and I can feel you in my veins, and I can taste it in my mouth, and I can hear it in my head, like a swarm of something, or like a carwreck, and there’s no time for making sense, there’s no time for understanding, because there’s nothing left to understand. This is always here with me. This is always here.
All things by crimesididntcommit
4 lo-fi songs of restlessness, nightmares, insomnia and the space between awake and asleep. Available now.
A sudden breath of air in the center of a panic attack
An impression so affectionate you forget the flaws of the real thing
New song Affectionate Impression out now on bandcamp and soundcloud
This is the beginning of something more
It’s October here now, and things are stretching out; things are winding down. Everything blends and melds into each sequence of the day, sunshine and dusk and sunrise and midnight swirling together, vacant. There’s a vacancy in the air and nothing is going to fill it. There won’t be snow. There won’t be rain. Everything is getting closer to an ending, closer to an endpoint, like the book should be close to the final page, and if you stay up late enough, you could finish it in one night. Everything could get finished in one night.
It’s easy to forget where any of it ever came from – the energy, the emotions, the intensity, the insistence on the importance of feelings that came and went like perfume sprays and early morning rains. Everything’s painted gray; everything’s turning blue. You can get things done when life is like this. You can put your head down and slip away, fall into something engrossing, comforting, confronting, something dangerous that feels like it’s safe. No one can get to you when you’re lost in here. Sing a song. Make a painting. Scream for a while. No one’s going to know. There’s something so freeing when no one has to know. I know who I am now. It changes all the time. But I know who I am, right now. There’s a feeling of dull electricity, of numb stimulation, of vague uncertainty, when you’re just too tired to bother, when you’re ready to save it for the morning, because the morning feels a million miles away.
I want noise and I want paint. I want colors and flashing lights in the darkness and black spaces filled with neon and spotlights. I want to inhale and to hold it in. I want to breathe everything in. I want days to feel forgotten and meaningless and easy to get through and nights to feel eternal and permanent and important and unforgettable. I get like this every fall. I wish I could always feel like this. It feels like we’re all about to disappear. It feels like we’re all going to wake up in a world that’s emptied, where we’ll be all alone. It feels like we’ll be free to be anything without worry of anyone else finding us. It feels like there won’t be anyone to tell us what we can or can’t become. We’re all about to be alone and it’s entirely okay. Sometimes you have to get away. Sometimes you have to fall apart to feel the electric freedom to dance alone.