Category: oubliette
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Freak Show: A Conversation with Homer Flynn
“I hadn’t planned for this conversation with Homer Flynn to happen. It took place over a thousand days ago in a busy restaurant, a couple of hours before The Residents would perform their 50th Anniversary show.”
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Cruel Lights
Each button, it turned out, led to a new page with dozens of images displayed under headers like “Slammed,” “Punctured,” “Scraped”. Single words, violent but nonspecific, doing nothing to help explain the images beneath them, which were all like the one on the front page: sludgy, indistinct pools of hazy color, vague shapes jumbled together…
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Hunger
The suns light exterminated in the massed leaves and an early dusk fallen. A catholic wilderness where the wind whispered in the snaking branches hymns of doom and the earth slept in churchly darkness. As he walked, he passed areas where the land had fallen sheer and extreme and ancient stones held the trail sovereign…
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The Blunt End of It
We had been receiving phone calls in the small hours of the morning, my caregivers reporting each time an inability to discern any presence on the line.
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Bound in Skin
I can’t stress enough the psychological effect of having the words you’ve written bound in your own skin. In having words torn from your mind…
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Arid Chasm
we find ourselves lost in the experience of being the watcher whose subject is unaware of his gaze, which forms the undoing of rational thought, confronted with all the beauty and terror of the other in its natural state.
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Five People Breaking Shit
When I destroy a photograph of someone I feel so fucking good. I want to end everyone’s memories of people, I want to stop people three or four generations down from knowing who anyone was or what they did.
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A Useless Piece of Plastic:
14 Observations Around Missing GirlsTo 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.
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Something is Rotten in the State of Pennsylvania:
Notes on the Specter of Violence Haunting the Eaton Township Weismartthe 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.