August 29, 2021 A.D. (after donda)
Dear Diary,
I write this to you in a rushed and hushed fever. Something akin to a dream that has crept harshly into nightmare.
I’m currently in a 5x5 bathroom stall that also serves as my sleeping quarters. Although we are inside the Mercedes Benz Stadium with of plenty of square footage to spread out, Kanye tells me the available space is “for God” and we must keep it accessible to him at all times should he feel the temperature is right to bless us with his presence. Kanye is certain this third coming will happen and has a request in with the big man for a guest feature. He said he sent the text about a week ago and God left him on ‘Read.’ I have tried to assure Kanye that, perhaps God is just busy. There is, after all, a lot going on in the world. But Kanye is certain that this is a power move on God’s part. An ultimate test in Kanye’s resolve. That God has “always been a Drake fan.” As I sit here in my bathroom/bedroom, I have come to realize: God may be just another in a long, recent line of people jumping ship on Kanye.
For now, the verse 2 Chainz just recorded while seated in a plastic chair pulled up to a card table, rapping into an iPhone microphone attachment and collapsable pop filter, will have to do. Kanye is adept at using guest vocalists as characters in his storylines, frequently using them as ‘devil’ and ‘angel’ figures. So if God pulls a no-show, at least we have the artist formerly known as Tity Boi.
We’re doubling down now, as if we weren’t already doing so. Sleep is about one hour a night until Friday, release day. Or, supposed release day. Until a new release day floats into the ether. There’s no sex. No word from the outside. It’s one meal a day. This is DONDA: A making of, and a breaking of.
It’s not all bad here but it’s easy to shudder. The screams and whippings of Mike Dean are haunting in a big open space like this. They travel and boom against the walls, reverberating as a constant reminder that this album’s mix and master ain’t over until Ye says it’s over. It’s amazing Mike can still focus after being waterboarded, but Mike laughs, blows a puff of magic dragon in my face and reminds me that this is not his first Kanye West pool party. His dedication to the art is unmatched, unwavering. But this one is really taking its toll. I’m a secular man but but I pray for his survival. I saw Mike do an Instagram Live last night and someone commented “blink twice if Kanye is holding you hostage.” Most people don’t know, Kanye had Mike’s eyelids wired open in hopes of increasing productivity. Mike has an eyedrop guy now, following him around and putting moisture into his eyes every few minutes. He looks like he’s permanently doing some kind of Ludovico technique.
Speaking of the mix: I thought the album was done ever since it was called Yandhi two years ago. It honestly hasn’t even changed that much. Last night, Kanye played me the 109th official mix. I listened, intently. I know this album inside and out. Song after song, I waited. Waited for the new breakthrough to wash over me, to quell my compulsion to brush this off as perfectionism taken to the very extreme, to justify the existence of all 108 mix attempts that preceded it in pursuit of the perfect 109th.
When it was over, I looked at Kanye with a deadpan:
“K, I gotta be honest. I didn’t hear many differences… in fact, what was different?”
“Bro, you gotta listen! The drums on “Hurricane” are completely different! Those beats are dope now!”
“OK, OK. You’re right I did notice that song was slightly different. But what else?”
“That’s it.”
“So why did we listen to the whole album again? You could have just played “Hurricane.”
I guess this level of artistry is not within me. The discipline it takes to listen to something in its entirety just to hear how one change effects the rest. Kanye does. His eyes glaze over as Mike Dean shoots me a subtle look of hopeless desperation. Maybe one day Kanye will finally realize the album is done. No scratch that, he will realize the album is done one day. After all, The Life of Pablo came out. Jesus is King came out. All with similar rollercoaster release trajectories to the one we find ourselves in the midst of now. Right…? This one feels harder though. I just hope it’s before I lose all sanity, before I lose my ability to stay on the same frequency everyone else is on. Maybe I have already lost that touch, and that’s why Kanye has me here with him in the first place. I’m one of the disciples. The band of rich, lonely outcasts that Kanye has accepted on his island at the top of the mountain. Or maybe it’s just the fact that my bedroom here is so small, I have to sleep on top of my toilet with layered seat covers as a pillow. The small comforts of life go out a 2x2 window when you’re creating a masterpiece.
My mind continues to wander until an alarm blares from Kanye’s Yeezy Watch, a new prototype he’s collabing on with with the downloaded consciousness of Gérald Genta.
“Yo. Let’s go watch Rick and Morty.”
Kanye and I sit next to each other dead center in the arena, watching the new Rick and Morty on a big projection screen. Kanye sits on his full-size mattress that he has dragged from his bedroom like Jesus dragged the cross. I try to connect these dots of symbolism and wonder if they’re intended or just accidental comedic instances. Most people witness these Kanye-isms from the outside, and can laugh, or marvel. But here I am on the inside, and some nights are stranger than others.
Kanye is giggling incessantly, even during serious parts of the episode. But I also realize, Rick and Morty exists on a certain mental plane, one that Kanye certainly has access to.
When the episode is over, he turns to me and says “why can’t you be more like Morty?”
To which I reply: “why can’t you be less like Rick?”
Kanye and I typically take our passive aggressive tiffs like this out on the dumbbells. We pump a few sets, bang the iron around. Then Guy Fieri comes and brings us the danky from Walter’s, a nearby soul food joint. Guy is a cool guy. I hope we hang after this. Rumors have swirled that Twitter has a meme going around with a photo someone snuck of Kanye and Guy together. The caption reads “Diners, Drive-ins and DONDA.” To that person, you have no idea how true that is. But rumor also has it, if Kanye finds who took the photo, that person will be the first sacrificial offering to God. In case we have to start doing that sort of thing.
Tonight, Bono and Carlos Santana will stop by. Kanye wants Bono to sneeze on a new record called “In Sickness and Wealth.” The idea is literally just Bono sneezing over a wailing Santana guitar solo. Mike Dean already laid the reference down. To get the right sneeze, Kanye wants Bono to sniff chili powder every few minutes. Kanye said this will be a “covid banger.”
I don’t have much longer. Kanye wants me to put together a livestream for the final 24 hours before release. We’ll rig a camera in his room and record him until the album drops. We’re also doing yet another listening party and Kanye wants me to help pick out the right stocking to put on his head. He said the tan colored one from last time “wasn’t dope” and he had trouble breathing. He also said he didn’t like how when he sneezed, the phlegm stayed in his mask. I told him it’s most likely there is nothing we can do about that…
Kanye has worn a lot of masks, but I’m a fan of the stocking. It’s simple, plain, elegant, and most importantly, relatable. It puts Kanye in a role that I believe he has always seen himself in: that of a special man attempting a Sisyphean task. A man who has lost a lot and loved and lusted, and is feeling those emotions in a very pronounced fashion. But the stocking is very fitting, even though I hear we may go with more of a ski mask vibe. Emotionally-speaking, there is only a fine line between a bank robbery and a Kanye album release.
I’ve been here two weeks longer than I thought I would be. When you agree to these things with Kanye, you know you need to double-triple-quadruple the time originally allotted. And even then, it may not be enough. But that’s not even the point, anyways. The point is, you made it through and lived to tell the tale. You helped deliver something to the world, a piece they greatly anticipated. And that no matter what stunt Kanye pulls next or what industry he transitions into, there will always be another album. The man is too good in this arena, and no matter what he says or how much he denies it, Kanye can never stop.
Kendrick has been texting me if we have an actual release date. I write him back “no :(“ not only because we don’t have one, but because Kanye albums are never truly finished. The momentum eventually just stops, the animals find other circuses, the DSPs get their bait and we all bite the play button. We all get something to listen to, until the next album. Because that’s all it is. A holdover until the next one. I think Kanye truly knows something about society. He knows they don’t even really want the album, it’s really all just about the hype, the suspense, the tension, the buildup to the will-he won’t-he. Once he releases it, it’s no longer cool. This is the mentality that 24-hour news cycles and social media and endless entertainment options have conspired and unleashed upon us. We’re always just waiting for the next one, instead of enjoying the one we have. Kanye truly knows this and is currently demonstrating its full potential.
Gotta go. Marilyn Manson just showed and he needs help with his makeup. I also hear from the inner circle that Kanye will be beamed up tonight, through the sky dome and up into the atmosphere. He may never come back down, lost somewhere in the skyline. As such, he is looking for a stunt double. Some eyes have flashed my way. I look over at my Balenciaga DONDA riot vest and long sleeve black shirt and smile in the mirror. My body type is different than Kanye’s and no one would believe up close that it was him. But from a distance, the perspective changes. It’s all a piece of performance, and right now in the moment I believe we can pull it off. This is DONDA, after all.