There were about 4 or 5 years of confusions-of-matter and musterless moments, breakdowns/regroutings, and suddenly-empty spaces of amassed time that I’ll try to pointlessly audit. Enjoy:

After 2006’s Meadow, there was an assignment to score a film. It was scored, but by 2008, the film and the possibilities of a release of the music were, at most, forgotten, cock-blocked by producers pointing lawyer-shaped guns at my loins. Outside of the score, other music was made in an ex-grange hall that I’d moved to outside of historic Kingston, NY—sounds that were to be used with other newly recorded material for some sort of grand idea of lyrics and music and written stories along a connecting thread or two. Halfway through the idea, the outside world stepped in. Peripheral figures, distant and close, disappeared or died. Around the corner from the grange hall, on a quarry road, a car burned with a headless body inside, and the local police came around asking me where I was that day. Luckily, for once, I actually was somewhere. They said it was a popular road for dumping bodies. I explained that I’d never been accepted by the “in-crowd.” After chatting with me for a few hours and giving me and my truck (implicated, as well) a good eyeballing, they took the ruling minority’s side and let me go.