I’ve been in a state of overwhelming creativity of late, so much so that I feel like I’m running on the spot in a dream. There are so many ideas pouring out of me that sometimes I don’t even know where to begin. My friend Georgia and I were recently talking about how our preferred superpower would be the ability to conjure more time. Ideally every week would be 8 days long instead of a pathetic 7. This would hopefully allow for us to live out all our creative fantasies with ease and still leave time for us to rot a day away in bed if we happened to be hungover, which in my case is highly likely.Feeling creativity in abundance is such a fucking blessing and relief. It doesn’t even matter if the ideas are good or not, it just feels euphoric to feel the fountain flowing again. After my previous album, brat, I had this feeling that I wouldn’t be able to make music anymore. When I vocalized this, George said “Yeah, but you always feel this way. We all do.” And he’s right, we do, but it felt so potent this time, sort of like being hit by a truck and left on the side of the road to bleed out.I find when there’s such an influx of joy and passion and vitality in creating an album (the songs, the visual language, the packaging, the live show, the performance of the whole thing) there is naturally a feeling of emptiness that follows once it’s out in the world. Perhaps the giving birth analogy applies but I’ve never done that so I wouldn’t really know. In my mind you get pregnant, you grow the baby, you carry the baby, you give birth to the baby, people want to meet the baby and then you have to spend your time keeping the baby alive and caring for it eternally. But what if birthing the baby in part makes you lose your uniquely intimate connection to it and therefore changes your purpose slightly? What if you don’t want your entire life to be about one damn baby? Obviously to most people a baby is not the same as an album, but to me it kind of is. Creating art is my one true lo