Just spent the better part of 4 hours in an overdub session with Marc and his drums. The song's called She's Prettiest When She Cries and it sounds peculiar, to say the least. Earlier today, I had decided that the bass guitar (recorded yesterday + night) wasn't the guiding light but rather the sour culprit, fouling my beautiful song. I played another round of "tune the strings between the vibrations" and began to mix. As I layered the reverbs under the vocal tracks, I heard a tiny whisper over my shoulder telling me to throw the entire song out of phase. No, I thought against it. Immediately following that brief episode I threw the entire song out of phase. Why, I wonder. It's sad and horrible. My will is not my own... or is it? I can see the end of the rainbow... the final steps toward the result have been laid, that path to glory... but not a glorious path, rather, miserable and confusing. This record isn't a masterpiece... it's a stupid animal that froths and snaps at me. When this thing hits the market I'm doomed. Goodbye playboy mansion; hello mountains of shit, unearthed and heaped upon my conscience forever. This is not Rock & Roll music... it's my own personal melodrama played out with a rhythm section. And it's almost finished. And I'm doomed. At least I got the drums to actually sound like Ginger Baker. I mean, rest assured, this sounds like a classic album... even if it causes you to bite your own head off. It's quite possible that, at the end of the day, I'll listen to the finished record and slip into a trembling trance where I stare my own mirrored image in the balls and fall, fractured, into a strawberry coma. It's all very ugly to me right now. Coming soon to a bad acid trip near you...