To be a noise producer (“musician” or “artist” seems less than universally appropriate for practitioners of the discipline; a more neutral term is necessary) is, inherently, to be a pervert. It’s always deviant behavior, always against the grain. But there’s levels to it.
the road from philadelphia to tunhannock erupts into a tableau of arborescent violence; hosts of dryads weaving reds, oranges and yellows, ghost girls reaching out through limbs to arms to branches to fingers to leaves. city-clamor trickles out into a prelapsarian expanse, eden in america.
The ritual sacrifice of three men at the hands of three inverse-graces.
A short comic about a sensitive, vulnerable boy—diagnosed and manipulated by a mysterious psychiatric professional.
An imminently depressing, short, contemplative piece of empty, alien-world-wandering SF.
An effeminate man invites a beautiful young skinhead into his home.
The freaked out, bored, alienated observations of the Beautiful Boy looking out on his suburban purgatory fill the pages of Mother’s Breast. Banal, brutal, and transcendent teenage experience.
An attempt to locate a distinctly feminine “non-tyranical monstrosity” in Ted K’s life and work–informed by his effort to acquire psychiatric approval for a sex change operation