i look through the arches

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I recorded a demo of a (currently unfinished) song that will be on my next album, and you can hear it along with other goodies from the E6 Townhall here.

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Excerpt from something I’m working on

 “Goddamn bikes don’t give you room…”

When tied to the holy and stiff she felt it impossible not to think that they project something onto her as well, and Morris stitched to her by tenuous side strings taut and thin projected it harder. What a terrible exertion of energy, to distrust everything, that negative cathexis leaking out from him. If people were smoking, he thought that they trampled a sacred precept handed down through all generations preceding his, and he coughed with violence and convulsions to set them in their places. Not to hate him, not to want to destroy the old guard completely, lacking any plans other than the inherent superiority of what took its place, would signal some maturity she lacked and felt doomed to lack.

 “…must’ve seen three coming up here.”

And how could even Morris, the perpetually uncanny and semi-human, not find downtown electric? When you look at the orange-lit jagged stones shaken and headbuzzed from the still-moving second floor apartment you’re leaving, and when you walk the lanes in the post-morning fullness and wet warm being on your way to the cemetery listening to marijuana evangelists and mental-echoed strains of Ah Um, and when18th century yellowed circus pamphlet degenerate hookah partakers upstairs over swaddling stores look out on you, that is electric, and she hoped some god would kill her the day it wasn’t.

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Went downtown, wrote part of a song, walked around Forsyth (where the photos were taken), discovered the key to finishing homework (espresso and lack of internet), and had a really wonderful afternoon.