Kimbra you magnificent awe inspiring goddess of music. I am an aspiring musician writing my first album/ep. But like you have eclectic tastes and genres that i like to tap into when i write. How do u feel the best way to portray a diverse range of textures and genred on an album level, and is this what we should expect from your foerhcoming album? Also i am deeply sorry that janelle monae became sick and was unable to tour with you. And lastly. Please come to wellington. Please. So much live and adoration for your genius
nothing pisses me off more than the fact that 90% of women’s jeans have non-functioning pockets but baby clothes have proper pockets? what are babies carrying around that i’m not? baby wallets? fuck off
Reality displacement. Disassociation from the self. Life affirming questions align like dominoes waiting for some benevolent force to topple its very existence. Channeling the mind to stay focused on what is believed to be true and virtuous, only to find that what one dreams could be what they see on a day to day basis. Fractals dance and merge from one another as carnal pleasure becomes a priority, to distinguish one from a beast is the cause of my ambivalence. The facades getting thin, the mask is melted down, and all I see is hallucinations of oneself floating through natures causalities manifested in the mind.
Nerves running wild like fire through my hastily thinning blood.
Millions of tiny pixies running riot in my minds sandbox with placards and chants, setting fire to parked thought, praying for the moment when Mt Anxious explodes over the populus and eradicates all thought to a cu de ta of numbness and stillness, preventing any presence of what was known of myself.
My mind aches
As potential dignity
Flows down a sewer
"Get a hold of yourself man"
“Dont give into the fear”
To be fair, all these quotes and cliches just made the bus fare outta here…
I keep pushing my body too far.
In 2012 I got my wisdom teeth out and played 3/4 gigs (don’t remember exactly, due to immense painkillers) directly in the week and a half after. I lost my voice and a lot of my range and couldn’t really sing properly for months.
Now after only having my hand out of a cast for maybe two weeks I have once again further damaged my hand. Its now swelling a ridiculous amount and I am left wondering whether or not I have done irreparable damage to it.
This needs to stop.
I need rest.
I need time to heal.
Please don’t let me say yes to gigs when I physically can’t do it.
I might cause myself permanent damage and never be able to play properly again.
Broken synapses in the melting pot, enough ambition to grind back a clock, lost confidence in myself, my will, my fire is coming to a halt.
I had a dream, it fades I have ideas, they fray At the seams like stitches of an open wound, the puss of which is the disease of a tired and empty wasteland sucking the soul out of anything it comes and touches.
I have ideals. they fade behind loose morals of the mind, trapped in an open well. There’s a ladder to climb out, even a helping hand, but none of which seem certain. I’m used to this well. Its home. I can see its reflection in the puddle of my own selfish self victimizing tears.
How do I solve this issue of the constant internal battle of contentment versus passion. Creative juices flow with no where to go, growing older round the sinews, going colder cant continue as ice holds me still. just enough to breathe, just enough to breathe