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Me: I think I’m the golden child in our family.

Anna: Then what am I?

Me: I know. I’m sorry.

We reminisced about visiting Ben during his incarceration at Odesy House. Dad furiously dragged him there at age thirteen.

Apparently huge missing pieces of your past is a common symptom of what they are these days calling Disociative Identity Disorder.

One time in nursery school I was distinctly aware that the song we were learning was simplistic. Childish in a way that was not to my taste. At four years old, these words weren’t applied to the awareness.

We are finally finishing the mixes from the Promise album Storybook sessions that began eight years ago. Perhaps we can release it while all of the participants are still breathing. The vocals are flawed of course as always, but it feels good nonetheless. Maybe you’ll hear it. Maybe you already have.

Have been mixing down dozens of dream project tracks from 2020 and 2021. What a gift it was from Covid Lockdown the time to pursue the combination of dream work, dream mining, synthesis, storytelling and song.

Rivka’s asleep. Long asleep. Our schedules have shifted apart again.

What to do with these dream recordings aside from personal listening? Release as singles? Compile into albums? Release as pairs, triplets, sets? Art work?

Art work for each piece would be a pleasure but it’s hard to make art while running on a treadmill which is probably a conveyor belt carrying us to a meat grinder of medical debt and bodily expiration.

.evol tae kooc etirw guh ssik kcuf tihs klaw gnis ecnad yalP Play dance sing walk shit fuck kiss hug write cook eat love.

LLi–

20/06/2024