Lurm is the brainchild of me, Adrien Converse. It’s the name I put on the creations I pull from my deepest, weirdest, hardest-to-make-sense-of intellectual wanderings. Ideas for what I make come to me in dreams, or while I’m floating in sensory deprivation tanks, or when I’m wandering around in the woods, or when I’m standing on my porch in the rain. They feel important even though I don’t know why.
Almost every week I extend my explorations to others in my youtube livestream, where I live-compose 20–40 minutes of music inspired by a secret or a story or a riddle or a thought fragment that someone shares with me.
freedom calls out, but we didn’t hear
we gave our loyalties to fear
abundance flows, but we didn’t taste
it’s sinful, hedonistic waste
joy wells up, but we didn’t see
if you get some, there’s none for me
truth expands, but we didn’t know
for the rich man says it isn’t so
love ignites, but we didn’t feel
only worthless people need to heal.
never “hello,” or “mind if i come in?”
you barge in confidently
taking not just the best seat, but the best two
one for your body, the other for your muddy feet
placing drink orders like we exist to serve you
demanding to maintain a level of comfort no one else here has ever even wished for
chastising us for not meeting your desires by default
berating us because you don’t understand what we’re saying
but this is our house, and you weren’t invited
we were just talking about how to stop you
from doing this exact thing.
the place that I’m standing is the place from which i see
i see you standing there, but i don’t think you see me
you’re looking at a different person in the place that they would be
and the place you think I’m standing is the place from which I’d see
if I saw from there you figure what my view of you would be
and it gives you clues about the things to say to me
and the place that you’re standing is the place from which you see
you see me standing there, but you don’t think i see you
i’m looking at a different person and you don’t know who
because according to this angle nothing that i say is true
to get out
of this place.
it’s sweet until it eats your skin
erodes your bones til paper thin
and drops your carcass in the sea—
it’s sweet to some, but not to me.