xii. (unintelligible)+kerväkähstanderelictanmast+bath
The drums continue to play in my head. Although I have many things to say, I must say as well that following the patrol tonight, I will be no more.
I hate them all. The very Mandras that slyly coaxed me into their woods. The same Mandras that play on their accursed drums. It is because of them that I must die tonight, when the patrolman comes at night with his flashlight to oversee the murky night streets.
I am sensitive to light, you see. The light that continues to shine through the cracks in my boarded-up windows causes me much agony, so I feel as though that I must die young. Not before describing my objects of terror in this journal.
I was walking to Northane, the great castle that lies beyond the forest. The thing that always thrilled me about travelling to that location was the walk itself; it contained many pleasures that I had previously known, such as birds, the movement of water, and the wind in the trees. The Mandras were from Unkardia, but I don't think anyone knew that. In any case, they also happened to inhabit the bulk of the trees that filled those woods.
It was noon, which is generally not the time of day the Mandras come out of their homes. However, a few were brave enough to talk to me. They are incredibly small people, no longer than my thumb. They told me they would like for me to visit their chief. I felt no obligation to do so, but given the circumstances of time (the sun was not about to set), I decided it was appropriate to wander off the beaten path and give them what they wanted.
As I traveled through the foliage, I became aware of small shards of porcelain that were scattered amongst the weeds. Travelling further, I came across a porcelain head, a doll head to be exact. There was no telling what it was doing out here. Perhaps some child had left a doll in the woods? Against my better judgment, I kept following the Mandras until I came to a clearing. There, my jaw dropped. A tall man wearing tanned leather clothes was sitting in a wooden chair. My amazement stemmed from the sheer height that this man possessed - he must have been at least as tall as five horses stacked on top of each other...
As a gazed upon his majesty, I suddenly realized that the sun was already setting. I tried to leave, but the man (whom I assumed was the large Mandra chief) beckoned me further into the woods. As I continued (I must have been in some sort of stupor), the trees began to seal off the sky, blotting out patches of light with their shade. Luminous fungi and insects crawled around in this shade, determined not to be exposed to the spots of sunlight that occasionally darted around the shadows like fast-moving ants. One unfortunate mushroom was exposed to one of these spots, and to my surprise, it shriveled instantly. As I followed the Mandra chief, he talked in a silky smooth voice about how the forest was infested by dolls. I didn't take him seriously at the time, but the dolls were to blame for the forest's decline. Eventually, we reached a clearing with a large luminous mushroom lighting the entirety of the space. There was not a speck of sunlight to be found; the sky was closed off with vines, branches, and thorns.
The Mandras began to sing and chant as they piled into the clearing and began to dance around the mushroom. The Mandra chief stood by and watched. As their song began to pick up with what became a furious tempo, I suddenly fell asleep. From there, all was black.
I woke up in the same place. The Mandras were gone. The mushroom had decayed and fallen into pieces. Yet somehow, I could see in the darkness perfectly. I then realized that I couldn't exit the clearing. The miniscule specks of sunlight were absolute horror to my eyes, causing them to burn with incredible intensity. As I ran out of the forest, my eyes burned so much that soon I was blind. I was found on the forest road later, apparently wailing in pain.
That sums up what I was going to say. The patrolman continues here. I shall use this lantern to burn my residence. To the underworld with the Mandras and their mushroom lord Chyi!
I still believe that the mushroom's name was Chyi.
Post the patrolman's departure, I have decided to take a bath instead. I have the strangest urge to do so.
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Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I love the beautiful sounds of this album but I don’t have a favorite song. I have a favorite title, it’s called “I Am An Idol, But You Can Call Me The Pope”.. p.s- The Pope Smokes Dope! Dionysus Virus
C. Diab describes “Exit Rumination” as “a sonic exorcism,” and its dark, swelling songs are equal parts catharsis and tension. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 26, 2018
