Fall sunday

Hello. Hi. I know you want new music.

I want you to know that I am hard at work. There were some restrictions I was under, for a lot longer than it seemed, but they are no longer in the way. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.

I’m always writing aimlessly and lawlessly as you know. But “album mode” is a whole other arena and the games are just beginning. I am working on some of my favorite stuff I’ve ever conjured. Wild to think that it hasn’t even been 2 years since IICHLIWP! I know it feels like so much longer. It does to me too. But there were 2 years and 7 months between HFK and Manic and honestly I think it was worth it. The time I took. And the growth that got me from that album to the next.

Thank you for having the patience and the faith.

It will pay off in the long run.

This feels like my debut all over again, in some ways.

Your love and support have carried me through a time where I thought maybe I only had a few albums left in me, but I know now that there are so many more than I could have ever dreamed.

Anyways, I love you.

Down the rabbit hole I go 🕳️

See you soon.

I think i’ll start journaling on here soon

I am keeping a secret. I am sucking on it like a lozenge that just won’t get smaller. I am passing it back and forth between my teeth, like a ball on a field between the legs of a bored player. It is not a happy secret, like a diamond in a velvet box in a sweaty pocket. It’s a secret like a loaded gun sewn into the lining of my sweater’s hood, aimed directly for the back of my head. It is a cartoon piano suspended above me. It is a manhole threatening to spontaneously collapse beneath my feet. It is a cloud of noxious gas meticulously attached to only the molecules I misguidedly breathe. It is in my shadow, and it singes the concrete where I stand. It is the sad clink of an empty glass on New Year’s Eve. It is a nap in the passenger seat from which I will never wake up. I am keeping a secret. I am hoarding it. You will find it amongst yellowed mountains of books in a garage, when you find me. This is not a promise, it is a confession. I am keeping a secret.

Jordan Mooney together with Vivienne Westwood, 1977.

jesus didn’t die for your sins

you die for your own.

you paid all of your debts

but you cannot go home.

the father cursed the skirt for being short.

the mother cursed him for staring.

then cursed you, the competition.

the teacher kept your seat close to the board.

in hindsight, kept you closer to his desk.

the pastor brushed his hands against your back.

this is life in reparation.

Wanted to move on

But winter came

Moo

Woke up with the snow

Campfire magic

I would have followed all the way to the graveyard

I really get impressionist artists

People disappear here

Christmas Tree decorating date

I do not find peace in my melancholy.

My sadness is not serene.

I am bloodthirsty.

behind the scenes IICHLIWP film, Prague 2021.

By donslens of course.

Practice, by Aidan Cullen.