A quiet day.
I had a strange dream involving builders and cementing a floor which was too dry. I awoke with an tickle in the throat which is still a little sore, though my speaking voice sounds fine. My singing technique is incorrect for these problems to occur. I keep wanting to run without walking. I must take things more slowly and gently. I have a lot of tension in my neck, tongue, throat, jaw, shoulders, face, and always have - I'm a ball of nervous energy, but I must slowly untie these knots.
I started by adding new masks to my Sisyphus drawing and playing with the design, this is the cover so far:
I also did some preliminary work on the rest of the art but I'm thinking that I must do something more with the art; make it part of the work too, more than pretty. I've listened to Histoire de Melody Nelson yesterday for the first time, and it reminded me a little of the sort of things, in spirit, that I'm working on. Musically, it's certainly inferior to Jean-Claude Vannier's L'Enfant Assasin des Mouches, but it is very musically and thematically unified in a way which I love and aim for myself. I, Sisyphus won't be as good, or espouse these ideas for me, but future work will hopefully do so. I, Sisyphus is an experiment, a learning exercise, a step, like my other albums of this year; and a way for me to release a few worthy songs like The Invisible Man.
I wasted an hour wrapping some presents for posting, before it became clear that I would not be able to. I went for a walk. I feel impatient and full of energy and ideas but unable to sing to enact them. Drip by drip fills the bucket.
