I went for surgery this morning, granted it was interesting, but maybe in ways that were previously concealed to me. I'm not going to detail this atal, I'll remember it and the prospect of that much typing isn't doing much for me right now. I was definitely interested in how venerable some of the characters were. How vulnerable I first felt when I put the gown on, I felt defenseless, exposed, naked. I'm still not sure why, something of this accord wouldn't usually bother me, but the day did turn out to repeat a pattern of idiosyncratic behaviour on my own part.
To skip through passing time, I'll make some quick refelctions to outline the day. I was reading Diary by Chuck Palahniuk. They had some depressing Animal Rescue show on the TV. I had been fasting since midnight, no liquids, not even a drop of water, the cup of tea I was given some time after surgery was cherished unlike any other.I was totally and utterly not myself when I came around afterward. I was emphatically happy when I awoke, but that was not by my own doing and more so the sedative. Twenty minutes later and I was in the dumps like no other. I then hit the 'middle ground' and it was grand. I managed to chat up every single nurse in sight when I woke up, something which I can only blame on the medication, which if you actually know me, will certainly understand. I felt really embarrassed when I came to my senses but it gave me something to shake my head and laugh about for most of the day, so honeslty, I'm not complaining too much.
Anyway, I'll just take the easy hit here and say that summed up the day, which it didn't, but y'know, piss off.
On the medical side of things, I'm no longer bound to the drab restrictions of a cast. Apparently, the stiches won't heal the wound proeprly if I have one on, so I might be getting one on Tuesday when I'm back in. But of course, I am a man of sporadic temperament and surely realised once I wasn't getting one, that a cast was the one thing I needed, which I still believe is legitimate and not just some teenage outburst of wanting what I can't have, but sure I know all about that. There's a comfort with the cast, a safety and a confidence, now I'm just in a sling with my fingers splinted and my hand slightly bandaged over the incision. Oh, and something I found really engrossing, the wires protrude from the wound in my hand, but they're held down by the dressing. I was obsessing over this for an age. Hopefully visuals of this will follow when I lose these stitches, but for now, let your imagination run rampant. It's really not as bad as it sounds, infact, it's quite neat.
So being free from the constricting mod rock mold swallowing my hand and with it my creativity, I decided something must be done.
Playing anything that involves strumming is just unpleasant, the pain here is far wrose than breaking it. When I first went to get the break treated, they asked me to rate the pain between one and ten, ten being the highest, I gave a humble three. This has jumped, without my fucking consent, to an overwhealming seven and that's with the painkillers. Having wires in your hand hurts more than I thought, I have a shit outlook on reality sometimes. Back to the issue at hand, THE FREEDOM. Or maybe the lack there of, but still, something, anything had to happen, I had to create! I had the oppurtunity and bounced. So with my little guidlines set out:
-Lo Fi
-Minimal Strumming
-No Palm Muting
-Lo Fi
-Lo Fi
-Half an hour to write and record
I got to work.
A half our passed and I had this, one guitar track, one harmonic track, two vocal tracks and a track with audio samples. Oooh, I think I had one feedback track too. I used the cheapest and currently the only dynamic mic I own. I'm happy with this as my testament for creation with a broken hand. Maybe more will follow, perhaps something more people would be into.
Without Hope
OR
Without Hope
(mediafire)
It's not Lo-Fi enough.
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