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Deathtrip

by Self and Other

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boothby171 If you start "We Could Get Along" at 11:58:42 pm on December 31, there will be a strong downbeat right at midnight.
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1.
88 September 03:51
I’ll talk to paper, if I sit still long enough. I am entirely self-absorbed, but I hope that the translation’s effective for people I’ve never met; that i’ll never meet. But I cannot expect anything at all. Why even watch? Fuck all of my plans, fuck them all. Careful hands and their placement is key. Now that I have learned how to shut my mouth, I can listen without waiting to talk. I can look before I see. Without a past, or a future tense.
2.
Headstone 03:07
Oh so ill-equipped to deal with emotions that come in twos. Does it feel like the truth when you take abuse? Well, i’ll tell you right now: It freaks me the fuck out when I come around. What do you do when no one is around to save you? Oh so innocent it steals my resolve. My job is an obstacle, the path is a riddle of walking right through the flames to safety; the common exchange of fear for nothing. I’ve been walking around with a headstone lately, there’s no metaphor I keep it to remind me that who I was then, I can never ever be again.
3.
Compass 03:51
Stapled to awakened paths, the cracked compass pumps its pulp behind your eyes. No sirens ever come across, there is an impermeably threaded lie pointed south. The pin begins to turn right back around the closer to the origin that you get. Add a suffix in only to give the illusion that the part is wholly it. So show them what it is that makes it glow, though they don’t really want to know. Pointed south the pin begins to turn right back around, the closer to the origin that you get. They all want to tell you about their hours, and they all want to comb you about your hours.
4.
If love is watching someone die, I must love everyone. Spent the morning in the hotel watching morbid videos. I couldn’t look away, I stayed until I had to go. I know that everybody just wants to know. Resilience and fragility and a sense of security are all we are underneath, there isn’t anything smaller than the simplest common denominator. If love is watching someone die I must love everyone. From the gutter punks on Venice Beach, to the rich kids up on Runyon’s Peak. The million dollar toy machines, haunting every fucking street; the emo kids dancing in colossal clubs to no bands are all I see in my periphery.
5.
Extra Hands 03:53
My extra hands belong to a hungry ghost. That needle mouth can’t pass nothin but it still grows. I find if I don’t talk, I don’t feel so lost. Its folding maps in my stomach and trying to walk through walls. I strive for balance as if I just learned to walk, and I listen closely to the sunsets on the porch. I hear if I don’t stop, then I will fall off. She sees a bird inside the knots in the floor boards. So is it wrong to think all the symbolic things, were put there for you to see by something you can’t be? Jealous entropy, arrested by rewards; nostalgic for the present while entrenched with the comfort of being in awe of. So if it falls apart, well then it falls apart. But you must accept or you’ll forget and do it all again.
6.
Something’s going down, but I don’t want to talk about what I thought it’d be. It’s so much easier to simply not speak. That doesn’t mean I’m hiding out. I’m so much better now, and I know somehow, that it would go to shit if I could slow down so stay away. I’m sorry, but hey, I need to do this for myself. Listen, ‘cause I don’t have an image that I defend for you. Well, sometimes I do. Stay away.
7.
There’s not a thought in my head aside from the lack of. Something is winding the spring of the world and I am a part of everything I see; the slight flex in the arms of the trees. Every person I think about; every person there ever was. Jackie Kennedy on the trunk and every family I see on Carter Street. The hands revolve around the clock, as the spring is wound another notch. I don’t mind what happened, I liked it. I had an idle mind, I was asking. There is a method to tact, I’ve learned it. I’m not at the mercy of reaction anymore.
8.
It was an accident, that’s what’s been said. It was at the bottom of a stairwell in the pink projects, you hear this shit all the time. I’d love to extend the benefit of the doubt but I just cannot stand to be an optimist or your apologist anymore. They’re not the guardians of what’s right, they are the tax men of the party line. They protect freedom nominally, the same way I am an American. Want to hear some irony? There are trap houses on Liberty, what you did isn’t so bad, just give us what you got and we’ll collect the receipts and return everything to the way that it was before. Collect the receipts and return everything ‘till the next time we see you in court.
9.
See You 03:19
I am your variable, you never say it but I know. If you solve for me, then you will see an array of results. They all fit into the holes that you’ve been trying to plug, but if you want one, or you want none, I’m sure that some will work. You are my solvent, you break down the ones just like you, and they could do it too, but I don’t wait long enough. Or I wait too long, and the feeling’s gone any time I’m not at work. Stop calling me up. Yeah, I am your variable, you’ll never say it but I know. And if you solve for me, then you can solve for you, and you could figure almost all of what you need before you speak, but still you try to talk. I said it then, i’ll say it again, I’ll see you when I do. Stop calling.
10.
You’re stringing along purpose, unearthing all my urges. Speaking drier sermons, bleeding softer urgency. I don’t want to be somebody, I don’t want no ivory tower. No more sandstorm mornings, put it down and stay, because I could be one, or I could be gone. You can be slow, or you can play god. I think that we could get along to stray. There are no fucking heroes, its just the way history appears though. So only stir my total vague array to better suit your tastes. I don’t want to be somebody, I don’t want no ivory tower. I envy all the moving things that get to live in regiment. I could be one, or I could be gone. You can be slow, or you can play god. I think that we could get along to stray.

about

Deathtrip was written from September of 2014 until June 2016. Recording started in the beginning of 2015 at Barrelhouse Studios in Nyack NY, and was subsequently completed in part at 88 Quaker in Cornwall NY, 48 S Chestnut in New Paltz NY, in my van in various locations while living out of it, and at SUNY Purchase. It was mixed at 9 Clara in New Orleans LA, and mastered by John Naclerio at NADA Studios, in Montgomery NY.

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released January 13, 2018

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Self and Other New Orleans, Louisiana

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