settle or four nights spent in abandoned buildings, the story unfolds itself

by difficults

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all songs recorded july 27 - july 31 9:00p - 6:00a in one of these four lost locations:

i. the vacant apartment celina and i stumbled across the night we double exposed a strip of 35mm, and went out to take pictures of stars.

ii. alex's basement, which, isn't technically abandoned, but is dark and distant enough from any modern ideologies to be considered a lost location.

iii. in my very own apartment, where the ghosts present themselves and wander freely, settled by an emptiness that is tangible, always, through the hours of 11p - 5a.

iv. lastly, in jay's, (now repossessed) musical studio, downtown san diego. we permeated those soundproof walls with the sweet smell of marijuana, the sounds we created will continue until the sky opens up.


all songs recorded live, analogue, directly onto a Panasonic RQ-2102, with the exception of a few pre-recorded piano tracks and samples.


light and bliss.

i wasn’t entirely sure what would happen after i had gone through with it. maybe nothing. some people say you relive the entirety of your life in a few short moments, religion says you’re consumed by the clouds and sent off to where you deserve, alex says it’s just numb. blank. i don’t like the idea of that, oblivion. it scares me. i read once that you first pass through the deva realm, so comfortable that you dissolve whatever good karma you’ve collected though your life. it seems this is true. warm and calm, this is your realm. the god realm. you feel everything. you are everything. and everything is well.

but as a human being, still, you burn through this light and eventually you feel the warmth around you become hollow and thin. you slip thorugh, painfully aware of everything once again.

pale moon pill and swollen, hollow veins.

i understand now what i’ve done. i have a numb, hazy memory of the bathroom miror, the faucet running and the ringing in my ears. the shallow hope as the perscriptions collected me in waves. emotions are thin and unstable, moving like static around you. through you. but as soon as you come close to understanding one, it’s replaced by another. envy and hurt and longing and anxiety that will never be fufilled posses and release and repeat. over and over until a sense of prejudice presents itself over you and thoughts run slower, language is broken and burried under one single fading image. a pill, pale and glowing like the moon held up in the blank sky, flowing through some skin that held you years ago. saltwater in your veins.

warm winter after hours

as humans we are always physically uncomfortable, in one way or another. be it the chair your sitting on, or the way you distribute your weight as your standing in line. these small inconvieniences we learn to deal with though life; we get used to them. and so it seems the same as you flow through an uncomfortable state of mind, (or state of being, in this realm). you get used to it. a single repetative melody, unfufilling, a subtle grip on your frame and a burning in the background that, every so often, overtakes the melody. until it gets worse, and random, sharp stabs are thrown at you from all angles. and with no sense of direction, no sense of being, all you can do is endure. and hope. hope it will subside.

void living

and eventually, it does. the sharp stabs are replaced with a constant, gritty desire. desire that can not be filled. a hungry ghost, unable to fill itself. here, i have come to conclude, you are no longer alive. here, you are no longer aware of anything except the constant thirst that burns in your throat. what defines being alive? being concious of your desires?

feel and settle

at this point in the story, i feel i must take a moment to extract myself from the situation. with this album being (somewhat loosely) based on the bhuddist concept of rebirth, and the six realms. this song would hold to the ‘hell realm’, which is the stage immideately preceding rebirth, where one uses up all the negative karma they have collected during their lifetime. similar to the chirstian hell, without being permenant.

now it’s a given that this song resembles nothing of hell, being slow and soft and calm, but i’ve decided to provide a variable in this age old theory. what if as we look upon everything negative we’ve done in our life, instead of hatred for ourselves, we feel only regret, and desire to better ourselves. we take this time to realize what we’ve done wrong and forgive ourselves. only a theory.

sad sad souls

falling in and out of color and sound and concious senses blur together in hazy waves. it might be bliss, but maybe just the drugs finally finishing me off. red and blue and the bathroom light, i remember was pale and gleaming like dull stars i had seen when i was younger and camping and someone had told me “you know when you look at the stars, you’re looking into the past.” and maybe i’m in the past now, the sirens are getting louder and closer and i think i might be finally leaving but a sharp pain brings me back for a second. and fades. then another, i’m closer. i’m not sure i like this but i hear something familiar. someone. a voice. i can feel my body again, it hurts. everything hurts. a note, the voice had given me…..sometime ago. “just you and i” in a coffee shop, days, weeks ago. eyes are open, i can see her. i’m alive, but, not really. she’s holding me, screaming and i can feel the waves coming back.

still frame ghost

nothing. there is nothing. nothing around, but so much inside. i can feel myself leaving, becoming something else. different thoughts, different feelings. a ghost caught in a single frame, trying its best to act out significant moments. always unable. it will be unbearable, i read somewhere that leaving is the hardest thing in the world to do, until you’ve already left. let go of your sad soul and try to make peace with something new. the world is not real and we are expected to treat it as such. be around, be alive, be content and do as much good as you can with what you are given. it gets colder. i can feel myself fading, slower. shivers.


released August 1, 2013

thanks are in order for:

Celina Luna, for indulging the artistic and abstract mindset that is present during the small hours of the night and morning. as well as telling me her life story while i set up our pa and amps and mics.

Alex Luna, for inviting us into the unforgiving location beneath his house, a small rain forest resting under the world. and the two or three inches of water that somehow made its way down there while we slept and ruined two packs of american spirits.

Jay, for opening up his musical work space to a couple of drugged-out punks. much love and respect.

Jonathan Cervoni, for the musical drive and appreciation he instilled in me at age twelve. I miss you out here.

Sam Ray, an artist i've looked up to musically and personally for the past few years of my existance. you've been a vast inspiration. thank you.



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mvnners El Paso, Texas

over-exposed nostalgia and hazy dreams consisting of sounds composed and recorded during the small, sleepless hours of the night

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