locale- here & now: our most recent tale of ineptitude and the sin of one’s arrested conviction. “Survival Instincts” THE LYRICS showcased as they ought to be, inching their way across screen, animated frame by hand-illustrated frame.
•
photo: @xianamireya
•
video link in bio and on the localb youtube
you took my hand, can’t fight back all this rapturous nausea, delighting quease— stop beckoning me, girl please ! ——— this written after a halting argument that made me question why, OH WHY must i freeze when faced with conflict ?? what mental block prohibits me from processing information leading to pitiful silence ?? idk !! still figuring it out !! —— “survival instincts” lyric video #on #youtube #now !
photo: @xianamireya
elements include:
1) animation from the chorus of our new lyric video “survival instincts”
2) MANY little frames illustrated w colored pencil (im an adult so i bought the one w the sharpener in the back [healing through consumption])
3) one of the original photos shot in the backyard,,
4) the row of pocket books (stationary) that served as a background in the video (rotating)
5) PAGE FROM A BOOK CALLED “ALL CONSUMING IMAGES”. love this book, traces the political history of “style” from feudalism to post-industrialism
6) #stopmotion #mixedmediacollage #indierock #chamberpop
“@ sunset” — thanks for everything, Murakami !
Rest your head on my weary shoulder
Put your hand in mine
Picturesque, all things at sundown
Awaiting shadow, you marvel at how
All the colors get soaked backed by Earth’s crust
So rest your head on my weary shoulder
Light retires thus
Mache moon (make it your gaze) hung taciturn and dim
Solace (bask in her gentle) in dark, engulfing, chill, and grim (and tender glaze)
It’s a Barnum & Bailey world, babe
So, rest that heavy head on my shoulder dead
Before it fades
Lungs of smoke and mind malaise
Ash fingers
Ember lips agape
Dusted knees and
Dirtied hands
Escape
Artificial glow of a sun that once shown
Reminders so taunting
Memories so teasing
Recalls so loving and
Refrains so pleasing
Stare at the clock
Stare it alone
Phony glow of what once was shown
Creek of spring, rustle of sheet
At least they whisper to me
Rest your head on my weary shoulder
Rest your head on my weary shoulder
(Weary shoulder, weary shoulder)
At least they whisper
Whisper to me
As I writhe and as I wring
Crack of wood
Tussle of feet
At least they whisper to me
Soft voices in my ear
VI. @ sunset
writhing, decomposition, refrain, artifice
this is one of my favorite efforts in songwriting as a form. lyrically and musically, it feels very honest to me. and im most proud. light retires thus ! One of many songs inspired by the ever daunting Grapevine. thank you for listening, if at all.
photos by xiana ofc
V. “Sat/Waited”
when my face had blush
when my voice was tough
when it rushed, my blood,
i guess—
when my hips had wood
when my heels were nude
when my walk was brood
i guess—
when my eyes rolled back
when my love was lash
for fuck all, im such an ass
i guess— i sat/waited
photos: @xianamireya
i wish i were drunk all the time:
nothing but love to all the “patrons”— all the friends that had a drink ((or two)) for the filming of this video,, my company is yours eternal ! i had a lot of fun editing this footage and chopping up your glittering, sometimes inebriated faces. @xianamireya AGAIN behind the camera and @goldsteinsbeer as the most local of locales
almost through the EP, so thank you to everyone for listening