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flock terror

by Simon Aulman

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CP4A
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1.
booth-intimacy 02:19
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2.
perfect airbrushed danger 01:54
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3.
pollybore howling ambrose touch 02:56
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4.
soodling threatener 02:56
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5.
captain kidd 02:55
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6.
baltering torrent 02:55
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7.
lugalzaggizzi's moisture 01:24
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8.
sweep and fall 02:53
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9.
another day-long drive, gloved 02:09
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10.
grail of eels 02:46
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11.
tight laddered legs 02:47
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12.
stump walt 02:58
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about

Oh dear this one seems less than the sum of its etc etc etc - my only ambition is to make the same track over and over again, keep it simple, keep everything in the same mood, and surely to god that should happen anyway, considering I have no skill or talent or learning in music and don't like musicians and would hate to be one of them - surely me with my zero ideas/clue(s) and my one crap keyboard and one crap guitar should barely be able to make even one type of music, let alone several - but even so, this thing is for-me too all-over-the-place - if I was braver I'd just choose one track at random and upload it twelve times and think of twelve titles and bluff it, no one would notice, if anyone did they'd think it was great, or at least not as bad as most stuff.

But anyway. Here we go again. If I ever do an album which is just one long track then it's a certainty that a few days later a two-minute excerpt will appear on one of these bitty albums, and that is what has happened here - so there is some recycling going on.

I do wonder if making-stuff is as boring for me as it is for everyone else - are there really people out there who get some meaning-of-life thrill from being ""creative"" ? For me it is just the least boring of the few and dwindling options - if it wasn't for the rain first thing this morning I'd've got the first bus to Lymington and then walked to Bournemouth. But instead .... this.

The closest I come to suicide (in a happy kind of way) is when I catch myself using the word "purpose" - same as everyone else - all that hippy shite about trying to find "life's purpose" - something like joining a monastery or a sponsored walk to Siberia blindfolded or starting up a charity to teach everyone the tune to Kumbaya or meet someone fertile and have ten kids and be the oldest parent by forty years at the parents' evening or write My Novel or planting a million trees on Greenland - and the last time I said the word "purpose" to someone, I said that I did really quite enjoy my life but that every day felt random and undisciplined, and I want direction and discipline. Or I keep thinking I do - keep thinking I want that "purpose" - that number between 0 and 360 which I can swing round to on the compass and head off in thatta direction - towards that dreamy hazy clump of trees on the far far far horizon.

She told me Why have a purpose ? - she has four (family, worthwhile job, mortgage nearly paid, parents to help slide painlessly out of this life) and most days wishes she had none. Her purpose is to live a life that finally has no purpose, to get all the bloody purposes out the way and just wake up one morning and have nothing specific to do - can I really believe that these aimless pointless-feeling tolerably-happy-feeling days are that dreamy hazy clump of trees on the horizon that she and others might want to one day walk towards ? It can't be so, but I can't imagine what can be so.

recorded over the past few days, painting/cover by me a few days ago

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released February 13, 2024

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Simon Aulman Southampton, UK

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