released October 6, 2019

December 31st 2017
It is difficult to try and share very personal feelings. Especially when
it is something about a family member who has died. Of course
when I talked about this on the tape there are always things that
are forgotten to mention. So this is going to try and address these
things. It has been a difficult time. Each day is a new set of past thoughts and memories.

My wife and I had visited my parents for the holidays, thanksgiving
and Christmas. This visit was hard for my parents, but there was
still something positive about it. This was a new experience, the first
time that my brother, Trevor, was not there. It was as if a permanent
void had been placed in the house. An object that everyone knew
was in the room and even accepted, silently acknowledged. It still
has its own unique energy and emotional charge. There were so
many moments of silence and staring off into the distance while
having dinner. I believe this is something that may be impossible to
avoid, the loss of a son, a brother and a friend. An emptiness that
will forever exist in each of us.

I had included in a mailing post how Trevor had helped with many
of my creative projects. He worked on almost all of the 13 episodes
of The Pain Factory (A Public Access Noise Show) from 1995-1997.
He was also a member of my older project death squad on numerous
occasions. He wasn’t really a huge fan of noise or industrial at
all, but he was supportive and helped whenever he could with whatever
I was working on.

Reality does have a way of exposing itself to you. For me it was
when we were clearing out his apartment in San Francisco. Item
after item, each one with some sort of meaning, either for one of us
or for Trevor. It was a huge monumental task. The things that hit me
the hardest were the gifts I had gotten him over the years, for his
birthday or for Christmas, DVDs un-opened, my own releases that I
gave him still sealed. So much of this was seen throughout his
apartment. I got a feeling at times that things were overwhelming
for him. In a sense as if he just couldn’t keep up with things.
It is all still very unreal. Finding myself at times breaking down in
tears. Small things seem to trigger this and it has almost been a
year since he left us.

This tape and these sounds are a self-reflection of sorts. Perhaps
none of it can fit into any category. It is just an exercise and attempt
at self-understanding and expression, perhaps even part of the
process of arriving at a place of acceptance.

I wanted to thank Jake Dubois for taking the time, energy and effort
to allow me the opportunity to put this out.
Michael / mk9.org