floral, pt. 1

by gay angel

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the first bouquet of flowers, of pieces, that is part of a larger, 100-track album called "floral".

feelings in 100 parts.

the entire record is being posted track-by-track (with photographs and descriptions) at deaddrunkwithlove.com


released February 17, 2015

many people were involved in this album, and i am very grateful for their help

i (jake bellissimo) wrote, recorded, and produced everything (except for tracks 10 and 24, which were recorded by borja rojo)

artwork for each part done by yunyi ji, but the main artwork (the photograph) done by me.

i also sang, played autoharp, balalaika, banjo accordion, viola, piano, (acoustic and electric) guitar, bass guitar, celeste

sara defranco: vocals (track 1)
stephen morris: drums (track 2)
billy petito: electric guitar (track 2)
nick piato: trumpet (tracks 2/7)
arjun baxter: bass (tracks 2/8/9/24), handclaps (track 15)
justin persichetti: vibraphone (track 2), sleigh bells (track 22)
sumner truax: saxophone (track 3)
samantha turley: harp (track 3)
nikki joshi: toy piano (track 3), vibraphone (track 24)
jack barham: electric guitar (tracks 5/13/18/20/21)
sam park: vocals (track 6), backup vocals (track 15)
kevin zetina: marimba (track 7)
william bellissimo: saxophone (track 7)
dustin seo: cello (track 7)
ben escobar: synthesizer (track 9)
borja rojo: trombone (track 10)
sam edwards: viola (tracks 10/11)
sean lowery: percussion (track 12), drumset (track 24)
rose hegele: vocals (tracks 12/15)
cassandra sellers: viola (tracks 15/19/24)
andrew links: electric guitar (track 15), rhodes (track 22), vocals (track 22)
eleanor lee: cello (track 16)
petros karapetyan: violin (track 16)
evan pengra sult: flute (tracks 17/19)
cassidy thompson: vocals (track 19)
wendy eisenberg: noise/pedals (track 23)
ben fang: guitar (track 24)
evan henry: conductor (track 24)

the sample on track 15 is an excerpt from the film "alt-berlin", and the sample from track 19 is from an édith piaf recording of "polichinelle". the lyrics for track 24 were inspired by a comic by lauren (“iguanamouth”), iguanamouth.tumblr.com



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gay angel Rochester, New York

sometimes i stay up at night hoping that my life is just a musical and i write it down just in case it really is

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Track Name: tempelhofer flughafen
two times i’ll call him, two times i said...two times i thought that i’d never see him again. i’m so afraid that he won’t like me because one time he said that he was in love with me. so two times i’ll hang up, i’ll put down my phone...i’ll put down the vicodin that got me to pick up the phone. two times i’ll call him "my beary friend", two times i thought that i’d never see him again.

i’ll go back to berlin--he’ll find me there. i’ll give up everything i have for him and my career.

two times we’ll make up, two times we’ll make out, and two times i’ll wake up from that dream on a bed in southern vermont. two times i’ll wake up from those sweet dreams and i’ll drink vermouth, smoke a cigarette and say "sweet dreams".

i wanna go back to vermont. i wanna go back to berlin. i wanna go back anywhere just so i can say i've gone back somewhere. take me to vermont. take me to berlin. take me back anywhere just so i can say i've gone somewhere. take me somewhere. oh.
Track Name: the words i read
sing me a threnody just like penderecki. show me a new chord so i won't be so bored with the same premonitions i get from indecision. the old classical traditions put me back into positions of submission. i can't do that, so i'll go out and buy a new hat to remake myself once again or something definitive like that.

all the words that i read they don't mean anything though i try and pretend that they're over my head and that i'll understand when i'm old and retired, even though i freak out when it all goes to minor. i've heard the best way to progress is to start walking forward, but what happens when the only direction is inward? oh no, i think i've got nothing to know...i'm tired of letting things go.

keep me on this bus, i'm not ready to move. keep from the times i have to think that it's true--that i will always change no matter how much i think i'm intellectual when i am really not. so i'll see you when i'm 30 i'll see you when you see me. when i've made up my mind i want to skip to that time. i wanna know when that will be, oh, stagnant me. future me.

oh no, i guess i've got nothing to know...i'm tired of letting things go. i'm tired of letting things go.
Track Name: silly river
different state, different storm. another day, another morn. thirty minutes out of bed, simple struggles the leaves never get. sometimes it's better to think about the days i can relish, embellish, and blink my eyes (a new disguise). if i blink my eyes, the world goes away, but if i leave them closed, the solitude never does stay...so i'll keep 'em this way.

because no matter how much i sleep, the birds still sing, the river still rings, and there are still four seasons.
Track Name: new year's eve (another fanfare for the common man)
this is a loud room. it's the same outside--flashing, screaming bright lights. too much to really hear, but all the world was here.

this is a dark room. i was so distracted by the time it was midnight i forgot what everyone was talking about and why we needed to be here. i saw everyone started to kiss then i remembered what i missed.

i forgot how to play the part, this has got to be a new start.
Track Name: kyle in november
november did treat me like a national disease. i ate your food and did not throw up. you're constantly playing catch up with your husband, hesitations. drive me to the railroad station, laugh and forget 'bout the movies, but clearly show what you're thinking with your movement, hesitation. play the game of recreation.

crack a smile and pour me a glass, uneasiness is a place i've yet to pass.

your husband kisses your friend kyle on the porch while you're inside making pizza for the group of friends you've seen while all naked as they're kissing your dear husband and you can't tell what he's thinking or if he has just been drinking. he probably has just been drinking cos november did treat you like you were a rotten tease, man, with your hatred of his makeup that just made you really choke up.

as i saw you pour out his drink i knew this just wasn't my place. but we still had a movie left and i still hadn't really left, so i sat and that was that.
Track Name: i refuse to fall
i won't fall in love i think i'll just refuse to fall though my life has slowed to a painstakingly slow crawl carefully observing all the forsaken details like a train flying slowly off the rails so then a man can take a nail and nail it in a coffin before i stop coughin' the love out of my lungs.

but the story of the train is not as important as the story of the brain. the story of the brain that fell off the rails, truly a hero, truly a hero unsung. i won't fall in love. i think i'll just refuse to fall.
Track Name: i'm writing you
i'm writing you 'cos i'm old or at least that's what i've been told by moral compasses that always point west. i feel dismembered by the train, the bullet train that is my brain. "you are an old soul, you're an old soul". at least, that's what i'm told.

what an outrageous thing that i'm trapped in this weak body! my very physical body has entrapped me.

because when you're young you have time to commit all the crimes--the ones you never told him when the sheets were lined. because when you're young you will cry, and you will never know why. and even though that's kinda fucked up, you have to promise not to die or try to die.

i've met many men with parkinson's disease, but only one gave me a shaky strip-tease and this one he told me, he told me not to "never, ever grow old". he told me not to "never, ever grow old or your skin would turn to mold." he either said mold or gold. i can't remember what he said my skin would look like when i turned old.
Track Name: i've seen brown eyes
i've seen brown eyes at the break of day and green eyes when i've gone away. and hazel eyes might as well be clear, but as i wake up and see your black eyes i slouch in my seat and watch the smoke sigh 'cos the only eyes i need aren't here. they've seen love in others. i think i need to go near someone who can talk to me so i can hear about those blue eyes that wield spears.

in my head they'll never disappear.
Track Name: always in transit
the earth is not my home, but when time gets slower i start to think about letting go of friendships and objects. i need to explain this. and how cheap meals and cheap connections do anything but save us. the earth is not my home. it's filled with different canyons and different slopes, but never with love. grasslands and deserts are all deserted to me. the ends of the oceans are just too deep for me to take a nap in, so instead i'll just get breakfast or something easier.

the earth is not my home. i'm always livin' it, but not lovin' it. i'm always in transit but never in love. i'm always in transit but i'm never in love. i'm always in transit but never in love.

the earth is not my home, i'm always in transit but never in love.
Track Name: you gave me a green toothbrush (but nothing else)
jens, your songs don't touch me anymore. they make me sadder than i was before. and i guess i could say that i grow cold every minute i grow old, but what's the use? it'll never come out in a truce...i've got nothing left to prove, my mouth is sore, and the reality of reality is that i've probably seen it in somebody else's score.

jim, your hands don't touch me anymore. i'd like to think you thought it was a chore, even though you recommend that i have kids and then you said "you could write a bible with all that you sing instead of throwing your life away on a string". my mouth is sore, and the reality of reality is that i've probably seen it in somebody else's score.

so now nobody really touches me anymore. i'm no samuel adler, but i think that i know the score. so now nobody's words touch me anymore. i'm no samuel adler, but i think that i know the score.

i'd like to say i've seen all the scores (although i'm pretty sure that's been written before). i'm no samuel adler, but i think that i know the score. i'm no samuel adler, but i think that i know the score.
Track Name: from cole, to linda
someday when i go, i'll find you and let you know there's a hole in my brain and it doesn't have room for two. if you forgive me then i'll take you instead of me when you walk me to our house while i'm not sober 'cos the more i say "i love you" the more i hope it is true so i keep ingraining in my skin 'til the burns seep through.

so come with me and learn to breathe as i go head first indefinitely. feel the words i speak as i sing a fanciful tune.

i'm not sure how easily i fall in love platonically, but i hope you can forgive me for not knowing whether you exist. maybe not rejoiceful, but never through physical form. i can't tell if you really keep me warm.

so come with me and learn to breathe as i spin uncontrollably and learn to deal with the dance of life on my own, alone.
Track Name: floral
and then i saw a photograph of someone not édith piaf and then my world began to swirl and spin. a person oh so intricate, their eyes two separate syndicates (aside from a poor conversation, oh...)

but only if i could feel your skin on mine, i would. instead, i'm eating poutine and taking three shots at eleven in the morning.

dear, here's a rose, don't you let it implode. it's just a rose, it'll cause you pain. from thorns you'll be built up and never really the same from polluting your body, the drugs that you take. i remember when i said "if you want to feel good, never hesitate". if only i knew the pleasures always get away from you.

oh, because i saw a photograph of someone not édith piaf and certainly not kevin spacey too. no, someone much more real than that, a single person without a name who took my eyes and made them never the same.

i walk the halls, i walk the streets, i try to focus on my feet to make sure that i don't slip and fall. the ice isn't there but it feels so cold, so out of caution i'll walk slowly and prepare for the worst.

the city says it's in repose, but i'd argue it's about to explode. i'm sure édith piaf wouldn't allow this, she'd find some way to make it bliss through vintage photographs and what we calm our minds with! i'm sure she'll come save the day someday, it is just a matter of how long i'll really wait.

dear, yes, that's a rose, why did you let it explode? it was just a rose, it caused you pain. from thorns you've been built up and you've never been the same.
Track Name: to the man i almost danced with
and to the man in the club i almost danced with,

he says "you've got the wrong guy, you see, i have three kids. one, the oldest, goes to college for law, and the youngest is ten years your senior."

so, "dad", what were you doing in that bear bar rolling with some 19-year-old kid? you said you were fifty-six years old so i'll count to fifty-six and then leave you in the bathroom stall throwing up, not caring at all.

but that's entertainment, i know. that's entertainment, i know. that's entertainment, it shows. that's entertainment, i'll grow.
Track Name: i'm waiting for the snow to fall
“oh my god.” you said that once, but i’m hearing it again, this time from a different face. "oh my god" again.

almost every person i’ve met is made up of pieces of people i knew. prosthetic memories sewed on in place of limbs. i see it once and it all comes back. i see my lovers, i see my friends, i see them all come back again. but i know it won’t be that long before they fade away, tucked within, and reappear on another rotation.

they’re never their own entity until they disappear...until then i always compare them to the past. that will never last.

what do they see when they look at me? who do they see when they look at me? who do they see?

“oh my god.” you said that once, but i’m hearing it again. this time i’m in a different place. oh my god. i am waiting for the snow to fall. i'm waiting for the snow to fall. i want it to be daylight savings so i can set my clock an hour ahead and move on.