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  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of If I don't self immolate will I ever be understood? via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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lyrics

You should find yourself in whatever position you feel most fit.
Seated at a table or desk. On the cold floor or on your $80 buck wheat cushion
Lying in or on the bed or in the tub with or without water. Or from the hole you’ve dug yourself of which you’d like to come out of.

Place the palms of your hands facedown onto your thighs or knees or at your side and imagine that they are weightless though tethered in place. I ask that you close your eyes over, so that they are nearly shut but not quite.

Now pick a spot on the wall or ceiling and begin focus in on it. Now allow yourself to look beyond it. It could be anything. That stain from that time you tripped over their boots while carrying a plate of spaghetti with red sauce and you knew you should have laughed but you were just so angry that you missed that spot. You are laughing now. Their fingerprints on the wall where they’d hold themselves up giggling, trying to kick their boots off. You are becoming lighter with each exhale. That yellowing spot on the pillow where they drooled an ocean each night, insistent that they didn’t. You are smiling. A peeled back swatch of paint from where the Polaroid of y’all smooching used to be taped. You are lighter than air. The sunlight pushing through small tears where their cat used to climb the curtains and despite how much you loved that cat enough to let it destroy your things and sleep between your knees you could never call that cat your own. You are holding yourself closer. The orange suitcase in the corner filled with one side of the story told from letters and artifacts: the love letters they sent you from that monastery in Vermont that first summer, half of a matching set of Polaroids in which you are each sobbing that last Autumn with the last shred of dignity to be shared. You are crying. A greasy spot on the window where they’d push their nose and cheeks against the glass to make funny faces and blow you kisses while you were outside shoveling snow. You are all of these things and lighter.

Allow those memories to be present. Allow yourself the space to accept them for what they are and let them pass with each breath.

Now repeat the following:
Breathing in
Breathing out:
The universe is chaos.
Breathing in
Breathing out:
Existence is hinged on the absurd.
Breathing in
Breathing out:
I am blessed.
Breathing in
Breathing out:
I am omnipotent.

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Hello America Stereo Cassette

A new record label releasing audio recordings of writers' work. Poems backed by noise. Novels as audio books. Stories on cassettes. Curated by Adam Gnade. Currently accepting submissions.

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