This is the third Voidcraeft full-length release — a concept album dedicated in its entirety to the notebooks of the Franco-Romanian philosopher Emil M. Cioran. His works, which were both philosophical and confessionary in nature, largely consisted of disconnected fragments that conveyed his inner torments and questioned the very conditions of human existence. In particular his support for the Romanian far-right movement Garda de fier (Iron Guard), which he later downplayed as stupid things he did when he was young, would haunt him for decades to come, while he was living in exodus, in Paris.

My entire life has been nothing but suffering and reflection on suffering, he boldly stated in his notebooks, which he had never intended to publish. In fact, the release of this album would likely have bothered him, but he died, so I am free to do as I wish.
He frequently ridiculed the people who read his books, so, whatever. Cioran believed he had nothing to transmit to the rest of the world. To him, writing was a compulsive ritual he sought relief from. The actual creative output was of little importance, although he later immensely regretted some of his early writing. I can relate to these notions, within the context of my own music.

The title of this album references a crass narrative from an interview with Cioran. He encountered this young pregnant woman at the cemetery of Nanteau and thought to himself: How is it that she does not think about carrying a mortal [in her womb], a future corpse?

The linguistic extravaganza of Ἕβελ continued: the lyrics are predominantly French, with the odd passage in German, Romanian, Latin and English. As usual, I plagiarized most of it. I would also like to apologize to all native speakers of French for butchering their language. However, I do hope that at least some of them will give me credit for trying.

I purchased cannabis and LSD from European darknet markets and had some decisively negative experiences with these and other drugs; I even interrupted my work on this album for one month to draw a bizarre comic about my worst trip; I started hanging out with strangers I met on the internet and was thrown out of multiple bars in Oslo; I dabbled with online dating but quickly gave up because I am a pussy (also because of a distinct lack of insane, artsy types on mainstream dating sites). This album was certainly a memorable period of my life.

Originally, this album was meant to be released on I, Voidhanger Records, just like the previous full-length, Ἕβελ. I hope Luciano, the man behind the aforementioned label, will forgive me for taking this from him. The truth is that I am emotionally unable to delay the release of an album for this long. I had pretty much finished this album in August 2016 but he was extremely busy and I eventually lost patience. Perhaps working with labels, for the sake of greater exposure, simply does not work for me. The bureaucratic overhead in time is too taxing.

I would also like to apologize for the terrible mix, the drums in particular. It would be difficult to fix at this point, due to both poor musicianship and bad microphone placement on the snare drum.

The cover art I drew for this album is profoundly narcissistic. I basically added some of my own facial features to this photo of Emil Cioran reading a book in his apartment in Paris. Yes, I made him bald.