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Your Body In On Itself

by Gordian Stimm

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1.
i'm just trying to mind my own business bleeding in the septic tank I woke up, recalled the heinous dream i just had inspecting my rotting skin the navel gazed back onto itself within the anaerobic reaction I gradually peeled it off the end of your life, your priorities change what will become of my phone contract? and your life flashes before your eyes should’ve re-used more 5p bags the earth loves a little bit of mob justice when you’ve got shit for brains i breathe out and submerge myself when the gasses get too much for your skull 
 packed in vertebrae lull softly and slide out of your spine oh what a comical sight “[in French] Psychiatry for instance is also apparently meant to improve mankind and the knowledge of the psychiatrists. Psychiatry is also a way to implement a political power to a particular social group. Justice also. It seems to me that the real political task in a society such as ours is to criticise the workings of institutions that appear to be both neutral and independent; to criticise and attack them in such a manner that political violence, which always exercises itself obscurely through them, will be unmasked, so that one can fight against them” I click my heels and fall away into sludge and tar where I bathe leave salvation out to dry; is that what it takes to feel alive? (but there’s no going back for more) when skin embalms itself in slime you can’t imagine a finish line (but you still strive for more) I can taste medicine; still bleeding in the septic tank divine eternal leer I’ve been validated as well and truly past my sell by date I’ll rip my soul right out my skin and i’ll find a new one to authenticate I can taste medicine; still bleeding in the septic tank divine eternal leer I click my heels, but i’m still here what you think you are, it’s not real I can taste medicine; still bleeding in the septic tank divine eternal leer
2.
it may be worth asking why you’re always itching memories are calcified, and synapses are twitching another thought to undermine, another feeling stuck inside gotta get a grip somehow, can’t let myself be a failure now truth hurts sorry, that’s the point others can excuse whatever they need to truth hurts, though i don’t get the point my teeth will chew through the memories in situ my mother tells me that I should do myself a favour what is the retail price of emotional labour? oh but i find it so hard just getting off my fucking arse gotta get a grip somehow, can’t let myself be a failure now sorry mate... truth hurts sorry, that’s the point others can excuse whatever they need to truth hurts, though i don’t get the point my teeth will chew through the memories in situ breathe in, drink up, step back, act tough, fake laugh, smile gone sedate myself with smoke to take a little edge off i’ll punch myself in the face and make my brain shut off! truth hurts sorry, that’s the point others can excuse whatever they need to truth hurts, though i don’t get the point my teeth will chew through the memories in situ
3.
I’ve got all these urges I slipped a little white lie naked, we’re tectonic plates converging keeping the fantasy alive like a puritan failing i will worship you for i live for your little sighs the audience are just trying their best our limbs all wriggling and wry fold out fold out so that i can see your face fold out fold out allow me to state my case Fold out Your/our/my miscellaneous body parts fold out fold out so that i can see your face fold out fold out allow me to state my case
4.
Lice! Lice! have found a way to scurry into my skull now that i’m a mother to them i can feel fulfilled tape worms have burrowed into the middle of my spine now i can stand up straight. my room is clean and i feel a sense of pride. I really think you and this parasite can be the best of friends they’ve got great taste in wine, got a massive credit rating you can shop at Waitrose or something; date girls with that teased up kind of hair burn £20 notes in front of homeless peoples faces reach your full potential helicobacter pylori clostridium botulinum lysteria monocytogenes sacculina - i have the feeling that i’ve finally found my home the cuckoo finch doesn’t need its own nest to raise it’s own young it disguises its eggs as other birds’, leaving them to incubate on their behalf i’ll start community initiatives to shoot every cuckoo finch i see i’ll suck their veins dry and teach them the true meaning of responsibility me and the parasite get on well. we’ve even moved in together. we’ve not had any trouble adjusting save for some arguments here and there. they refuse to buy washing up liquid claiming they use less dishes than me, and looking back that’s solid logic. i wouldn’t dare argue with it helicobacter pylori clostridium botulinum lysteria monocytogenes sacculina - i have the feeling that i’ve finallyfinallyfinally found my home
5.
My body is too fucking weird nothing that i do will change it every effort to reconcile sells out the notion your body is futile i can’t seem to work it out what the hell i’m thinking, no, i haven’t go my thoughts in place i can’t seem to work it out what the fuck i am so now i’m leaving bruises on my face and as the cows come home i do nothing to repair my broken synapse your virtues can’t define you if your body is endlessly compostable i can’t seem to work it out what the hell i’m thinking, no, i haven’t go my thoughts in place i can’t seem to work it out what the fuck i am so now i’m leaving bruises on my face that’s fine you can scurry along it’s relative, kind of doesn’t have to mean anything (no, dutch) “Because we’re frequently led to ask the question - what did he intend to say? And a deconstructive reading will lead us in the direction of not ‘what did he intend to say’ but WHAT ARE THESE PHYSICAL MARKS? How can I interpret these physical marks. To get to make that or use that example, which by the way is an anti-hermeneutic one, it marks a turn against what might be called the idea that there could be the right interpretation” Well, personalities don’t exist and your virtues can’t define your body is endless and therefore my body will never be mine i can’t seem to work it out what the hell i’m thinking, no, i haven’t go my thoughts in place i can’t seem to work it out what the fuck i am so now i’m leaving bruises on my face
6.
I can understand the privilege we afford to the eye you can’t close your ear, but you can close your mind do away with perception, remove the tether that taught i can feel something that i maybe haven’t felt before It stole my breath, for i let it. every single bone inside your body put it in a bag no longer breathing to the ether no more. no thing. when you are there and not there, silence reverberates it slides beneath your skin and it causes earthquakes now i’m kneeling before you humble with head hung low i found my way back with the footprints that i left in snow It stole my breath (all your senses are lying to you daily) for I let it (and i not let experience dictate me) It stole my breath (walking to towards the ether so slowly) for I let it (and now i’m ready for the Lord to crush me) Every single cell inside your body Put it in a bag no longer breathing To the ether no more. no thing.

about

Bursting through sheets of noise and organic and artificial sound that recall Baths at their most twisted, Gordian Stimm (Maeve of itoldyouiwouldeatyou) navigates their relationship to their own body, autism and social structures with disarming honesty and destabilising surrealism. Every moment of this record seems to come out of nowhere while being perfectly in its right place. Did YOU think that the best song you'd hear this year would compare Jordan Peterson to a parasite who refuses to buy washing-up liquid? We certainly didn't, and yet here we are, trying to put into words something that can only be described as totally unconstrained dance music, turned in on itself (natch), deconstructed and reassembled in a hilarious, terrifying and brilliant new form.

credits

released April 3, 2020

All songs written/performed/produced by Maeve Westall
Additional vocals on ‘The Very Best Of Friends’ by Holly Readman
Illustration by Jack Westall
Design and layout by AG/ERT
Released by Amateur Pop Incorporated
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