the names of things, or the way we speak to fear.

I woke up to my own voice in my ear again. This time it was Roy playing a loop of "One more night, drinking terpentine" over and over again while adjusting tones and sounds. I hadn't showered in days, so I enduced the Bacterial Hollucost for about 5 minutes and started working.

We went to bed at... correction: Roy hasn't been to bed yet. I went to bed at around 7am. We worked like crazy to get the right vocal takes for this song so I could move onto the next one. This process is so frustrating, I really hope it's worth it. At this pace, we'll have a record in a year or so. But Roy goes back on tour this weekend, so that's not an option.

Dakota had another seizure yesterday. This one while Roy and I were tracking. Roy's Hispanic roots come out in tragedy, I've discovered. Namely, he turns into a Mexican woman ("Aye No! Mamma!") and nurtures his dog out of her trance. I, on the other hand, apparently lose my vocabulary completely, as I was the first to notice she was convulsing, and I sorta yelped "dude!" with the drawl of a texas high school footballer.

I'm debating on changing the name of this project, and I feel justified in thinking about it as I've yet to play a show, or release a single song as this band. I basically just think the project may need a name more concise and vivid. Something like "Whale"(??) or "12pt Garamond"(?!?!).

holes.