1. |
Looking Back
02:14
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Pick it apart: perceived picture-perfect photography, like any art, has specifics to ensure its quality, but the option of opinion is essential in function, secure in the base. Mixed with water and poured, fixed in the foundation. Glued slipped and scored, solidified with what's sedimentary. An image burned into paper interacts like a memory, but is guaranteed to hold at lease one fact, a single frozen moment proven not to be imaginary, but is the rest fiction? The human brain is a powerful thing with limited options for fact-checking and unending opportunities for overthinking, for outsmarting, for daydreaming, for fantasy for scheming. Amplified, applied emotions encircle the stories. Scenarios unsupported specifics insubordinate. Mentality's flooded. Waterlogged recall. Grasping at straws. Hitting illuminated targets with shots in the dark.
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2. |
Noodles in Cleveland
02:03
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We walk at night under modest, big-city lights; dulled by the locals, but bright in comparison to what we cll normal. Only two months of home, but exploration calls, muffled like voices through hotel walls: cloudy, yet clear and clearly recognizable. Then comes that thought the flutters like months, viscus and soft, inconsistent like moss; indirectly chasing rays, yet portrays haste, weightless and strange with a destination aimed, Two hours east to spark connecting themes. To our ceasing speech we feel our dreams coagulating.
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3. |
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After decisions are made directions fade away. Are my faint projected assumptions cast over situations or has evidence of past and present cemented them in the frame? Dark tainted explanations of pain and confusion broadcast over faces, black and white like a teacher standing in front of the overhead: It's all I have. Who's made the mistake? At what point do I throw the stone? Who's raised the stakes? What am I letting go?
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4. |
20/20
02:25
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Early summer air still chilled from winter, but the sun has already proven that it can still hurt: skin is red, ears are peeling, farmer's tan: unintentional sunburn. The past months have been the best I've ever had. I got me a wife and my brother's gonna be a dad. We still have our health to live for. I can't be more thankful for that. Life can get easier, it's just hard to remember when it's bad. There's time where heaven is this place and time where hell is and sometimes both. I can't pass on a sunny day/I can't make the best of every ray. Everything is beautiful/I struggle to appreciate it. Self-loathing/negativity, ok, positive replace.
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5. |
Peace in Cycles
03:26
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Have you ever felt weight from behind your toothless smile, felt the pressure fill up your cheeks and flatten your eyes, felt all that's important congregate and lean into your bones? It's settling at the surface reeeeal slow. Don't let it out. I hold my breath to hold on to this state and I hold my breath to hold onto this state because it never lasts as long as it should, again appreciation will soften its hold, translucent, backing into the shadows. It seems a second skin taken residence acts as a film until stirred and I don't have control. I don't.
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6. |
Last Words
01:41
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Again I awake on a grave. Grass grows in blades like a bed of nails. I lay facing the sky, thinking about time; daydreaming about alternate timelines; different graves, different places. I know I'll miss you forever and I know how much I still have to lose. I just want you to know while we're still together that I love you more than life itself.
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Earthbook Toledo, Ohio
Earthbook is the solo project of Mark Gorey (Take Weight :: High Draw)
This is my
Earthbook: a sonic expression of journaling, traveling, describing, inspecting, & dissecting life on Earth through artistic/poetic songwriting and documentary-style concept albums and odes.
... more
Earthbook recommends:
Full band Earthbook morphs into Oak Heart
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Have some fun, punk!
go to albumIf you like Earthbook, you may also like:
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The Nothing
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Jamie Cameron conveys heartbreak and loss with violins, acoustic plucking, tambourine beats, and whispered lyrics.
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Fool Me As Many Times As You Like
by Daudi Matsiko
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 29, 2023
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somebody had to
by phoneswithchords
The gentle lo-fi songs on the latest phoneswithchords LP develop their granular sketches of childhood and coming of age into full portraits.
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