#ALSO I SAW MY FRIENDS TOGETHER ON FRIDAY AND MY DEAREST LOVE YESTERDAY ITS NOT LIKE I DONT SEE THEM ANYMORE AT ALL???

[bugintheruins]

its soooooo noce to have time to draw for myself again

[readfelice-blog]

moominland chronicles 07 so fresh and so clean

Friday morning the sun creeps in between my spotted curtains, I stir, the light is golden and warming, I stretch, I start to feel my body slowly come alive, my little toes wiggle, my head soaked in my pillow begins to observe the feeling of the cotton on my skin, the smell of the bakery wafts through my open french doors. Something is wrong. My head is trapped inside a bubble, its dense and thick, acrid, everything is muffled around me, the chattering blackbird sounds so far away, I am in a thicket of half baked silence. This is fine, I just need to pop my ears, hold my nose, close my eyes, apply pressure. No pop. I’m moving my now open eyes from side to side, not sure what logic I’m following but it does nothing also.

Oh yes. I spent 6 hours producing yesterday, barely a break, an effect was catching at the end of a clip and causing some aggressive feedback, like being hit in the head by a hammer, over and over again in my ears locating the culprit, you silly cow. I was home from dogged dreary work, body aching and fatigued in every pore, after yoga nearly falling asleep on the rug on my hallway, dragging myself up to go to the mental sweet shop that is ableton and apply all the new and exciting things I’ve learned not 2 days hence, become better, brighter, more effective. But my ears were itchy, and I found some method on duck duck go to clean them with oil and water, I’d done it last week, there was a dull ringing after but I think that’d always been there. In a kind of unconscious stress laden half state, make them less itchy, clean them, hear better, brighter, crisper. It’s all about being bright and sparkling and clean, no detritus.

I’ve not been out on the weekends and really let loose for weeks, there’s a swelling inside me combined from all the excess baggage and that dogged dreary awful work, in ceramic bathrooms with flaxen eyes rubbing mirrors at 6am. Clean my ears, clean off the age of the firefox, it turns out it was a road that led nowhere. Brighter, remove all the dirt. No need for the last step with rubbing alcohol, it stung and its weird, I’m sure that was an error on the recipes part, my ears will dry naturally, I can just give them a little shake. You silly cow. When there is no alcohol or drugs to turn to what does the fatalistic human do, how can it self harm? It can attack its body.

We all need to party sometimes. Flashing lights, heavy bass, swaying people, smoking areas filled with affected bodies, not for 10 minutes, not for an hour, like anything in life it’s only rewarding if you commit to it for a long duration, let it remove the barriers and trickle into the baggage, its acidic grip melting away the gloop between the crevices that makes a mountain out of a molehill. Let the music shake up all the bits inside you, draw out all the ghosts, you can all dance together, then leave in a gaggle tired, heads leaning on each others shoulders.

Stick some cotton buds in there, the internet doesn’t agree but they’re wet and loosened by the oil, surely the liquid will just be absorbed by the bud and I will be so fresh and so clean, so so very fresh. And so clean. Back to the happy grind, EQing is a new world, my voice is razor sharp, I can hear each word, its like I’m dusting the track, clarity, sparkling, clean. Just another hour, just 30 minutes more, it needs concentrated energy, I’m so close, fiddle, knock my audio technica headphones gently, my pride and joy, my dearest purchase, my key to sonic islands untravelled before. My party for one.

I met him at a party, I don’t even remember how we started talking, maybe I sat next to him, because I was sitting with him and his friends, he’s not coming back here anymore, I closed the door of my little yellow house to him, I closed all the doors I could, I’m to sporty for him now anyway, I wear turquoise cycling shorts and I talk about yoga.  

They’re still not popping. Skip forward to Wednesday, Tuesday, Maybe that detail isn’t important, Wednesday is my go to day anyway, so let it be Wednesday. Walking home from a cleaning job on Wednesday along shaded tree lined avenues, cobbled ground beneath my feet, dizzy, still half deaf, still in a bubble, but my sight, my smell my sense of touch are all heightened, I’m not Mozart, I don’t know what partial hearing will do to this dream of mine to expand audibly. But hey, let’s make the most of this, the positive family clan mentality of EVERYTHING IS OK, if not sound then just stick to visuals, it’ll be a shame to never hear music again, but come what may. EVERYTHING IS OK.

What does a person previously dependent on alcohol to meet men and have adventures do when the well dries up? How will she ever meet a man again? Maybe it’s time to invest in a rabbit.

I’m getting really into looking after the plant my landlady left when she left last time, me and moon joke that he’s my new boyfriend. And I’m walking through the corridors of Funkhaus, it opens out into a carpeted palm decked paradise, it’s like another world, palms are plants, I’m inside a fantasy, people are starting to get less droney, look more awake, more excitable, twinkle, I have to go home to go to work tomorrow, but I take the image of that room with me as I go. I take Cabaret Voltaire to bed with me, and the ascending heart I had shimmying to the soundwaves, that was a party I didn’t even have to apply for.

Maybe meeting men isn’t so important when you’re half deaf because you’re to busy straining to understand what the person is saying to you. My californian supervisor in the Great Court, was half deaf, on one side, my nephew is half deaf to, people live without the full spectrum of their senses everyday, we live in a state of closing our senses down, especially in the metropolis, because otherwise, like Buffy when she could read peoples minds, we will go mad eventually, immediately, imminently.

I can be a half deaf person I suppose. But cleaning in silence is awful when its imposed, it’s just me and another bathroom, a dirty work surface, it’s just me and 2 privileged oh so cultivated young women in Kreuzberg, the bathroom like a white ceramic cave I’m tethered to, bits of lychee soap splattered everywhere, all over the walls, the bath, the shower, everywhere, on the floor, congealing in my mind. So very fresh and clean, I can’t really hear her properly when she tells me what she wants me to do, everything, transform the house in 3 hours, 3 2 1 , duck duck go.

You have to take your time.

And not put steroid cream in your ears, that doesn’t work.

The old adage, a watched pot never boils, is a truth so often found in the folds of life, I stop watching my ears, I let go about the worry of whether I’ll ever meet a man again or if I can save enough money till March for that feted room.

My hearing starts to return. Music briefly robbed from my life now reborn. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Track 31. Now to Moon (needs to be completely stripped and all the elements tweaked) Track 32 Divine Enshrine (needs more more more reverb on one vocal track) Track 33 P P P Paradise (needs building, recording in my bathroom, molding like clay)

Track 34-38 will come, I let them go like a nitrous balloon, I know they will float in to the ether and return to me.

Just don’t put steroid cream in your ears, so fresh so clean - so stripped of everything.