Broken Open
Chapter 8: One thing is certain: the phenomena seems to be tethered to me, or more correctly I am inside it, engaging in a world that moves when I move.
far out on the invisible mountain
Since the time with Behemoth, I’ve lost the ability to discern a certain stratum of details. While none of these are of crucial importance in and of themselves, taken together they contribute to a general sense of being ungrounded.
solid gone
I want to tell you about Bruce, who saved me from the evil that came through the TV portal in the basement.
Gathering Stage
Chapter 7: Maybe just the bodily part of them was gone...while the real part of them–the force that worked from within–remained here, unfettered and free to move through floors and walls at will?
Happy Hour
Chapter 6: What a blessing to have figured it out, to be here once again at The Roses for this evening sun–though it’s funny I hardly remember leaving last night. Scratch that I don’t remember at all–was I really that wasted?
New Angel
If only I was like Odious and had you to help me! I could type out the transmission from your satellite heart, my love played back to me, alien and strange like my voice on a cassette; I’d type as fast as I could to transcribe the dark feedback loop between us.
perfection edits
When we got back to the compound and my service returned, I saw 13 unread messages from my usually impassive friend and felt that old immediate need, that rush to respond. But first I had a smoke. They were pissed because of an edit I made to their last post...
Dean & The Golden Ratio
Chapter 4: The place would either be a claustrophobic closet or a palace of unimaginable dimensions, expanding and contracted according to its own specific physics...but there was also a feeling, unshakeable at times, that something was pushing back at me.
void jazz
I slept uneasily inside a vaulted void and dreamt, not for the first time, that Heir Max was beside me in the bed. That was it, there was nothing else to it, just the thrilling and terrifying feeling of his (its?) invisible presence close enough to hear my thoughts.
Nada & the New Style
Chapter 3: No news, no obligations, no parties to try and pull myself together for. Just the two of us, me helping her create a revolution with art, like lassoing a satellite spun out of orbit, and beaming its frequency into the darkness.
