kitten   January 29, 2008

Let these feelings never cease, let emotions always flow. Between us there are votives spilling promises bestowed. The rhythm of your voice echoes always in my mind, despite my clumsy words that seem to you so wrong and unrefined. Please forgive me all my faults, accept my imperfect embrace; ignore my stumbling and let me never fall far from your grace. Exposed I stand before you, awaiting things that I'll hear never. Winter chills me but I'll love you four hundred seasons through forever.

Collect call.
kitten   January 28, 2008

Not many years ago there was an old black telephone which sat on the edge of the desk next to my bed; an ancient contraption fashioned from thermoplastic, barely kept functional with my inept repairs, and almost talismanic in significance. Each day and every night I waited for it to ring, so that someone on the other end could speak her words into my ear and offer a string of ampersands, descriptive of both love and desire, and let me return them. The phone itself no longer exists, nor does all the twisted wiring that connected it to the world; all are long since destroyed, thrown out, forgotten, or abandoned. In its stead exists a twenty-first century update: sleek, elegant, luminous, casting digital microwave signals to an ethereal network, rather than modulated analog to paired copper. And yet each night I place it in the same corner of the same desk next to my bed, waiting, wanting, needing, never really expecting. The wires are erased but not the hope; the phone sits, inert, ready to connect you to me.

kitten   January 24, 2008

So, sometimes I'm a little slower on the updates than usual, but you've had the music to keep you company, right? This week I've put a ton of singles into the mix. Some you're sure to recognize, like Combichrist (oh, how I miss Icon of Coil) and Razed in Black. Others may be new to you -- The Birthday Massacre and Daybehavior, to name a few.

If you've sent me material in the past two weeks or so, fear not -- I haven't forgotten you. Keep an eye on this space in the next few days for updates while I convert, rip, normalize, equalize, adjust, position, resample, upsample, tag, bag, molecularly pound and prod, and all the other things that go along with bringing music to the masses.

kitten   January 23, 2008

Not the way those brass knuckles connected with my ribs nor how brightly flashed the cheap blade under mercury vapor lighting, and not the way the pavement came up to meet me -- you know all of that is just details. The important part is now, the way blood spreads through cotton fiber and breath comes too ragged in sporadic fits, and how people shuffle with heads low through the dizzy night so they won't have to notice. Now is when you appear, glowing like forgotten dreams, to kiss my forehead, even as I palm the knife to fight off their shadows once more. They walk in a way that makes no sound, always have, but I know they're coming, just as surely as I know your spectre will vanish without saying goodbye. The way it all twists together and away from what I wanted is, I think, the crucial part of this, but there are always more twists further down, maybe better, and so even against the pain, the blood, the addled perception, and their pursuit, I won't stop. It'll be okay, I promise you that; come here, and take my hand.

kitten   January 15, 2008

She's just finished telling me what she wears to bed, which is nothing, just three hundred threadcount against silken skin. It's then that I realise that her stark honesty, left open in the air between us, may not be all that's naked. But she asks, what do you wear to sleep? I tell her, that depends on who I'm with. She asks, what if you were with me? To that, I can only say: then I'd be wearing your scent.

kitten   January 9, 2008

In daylight this view offers nothing but the detrius of a city falling apart; trash on the ground, empty boxes of cheap beer and condom wrappers, clogged storm drains, smog choking the air, and a thin high sense of desperation rising like a storm front. But when night falls, things take on a different shape -- the litter no longer visible, the air somehow cleaner, and the lights of distant skyscrapers tower above traffic, far away, silent. The desperation becomes desolation in these moments, and I turn my collar against chilled biting wind. Walking is mechanical, unthinking, ghost of you in lockstep beside me, never quite there, always alone. Skirting off into nothingness when I reach for your hand.

kitten   January 8, 2008

Her lips are toxins, the kind I'll never fight, the sort that tends to melt neurotransmitters into oblivion. I watch the way they curve when she tells me those things I need, entranced. Her words so pretty spilling out from those lips, her fingertips, like she possessed some long-forgotten casting call of me and tuned into it, made it her own. And whether or not this is an act, I suspend all disbelief; foolishly, willingly. Near the end of the final scene, the house lights darken and she takes my head into her hands. She turns my eyes towards hers and her lips meet mine.

kitten   January 7, 2008

Now is when some dark thoughts turn inward against all judgement. Now is when it all stands in my way, between me and you. Now is clean electric analogues of silver halide, their representation of you I can't touch. Now is when everything I guessed about you becomes true. Now is when we had something. Now is when I hope it never falls apart.

kitten   January 5, 2008

Silicon eyes, phosphor hair. Hands of electricity reaching out for more. Voice far away and always incomplete. Distant wishes working their way into dreamscapes of defeat. Digital words forever down a wire cast. Connections through the switches that help shed off the broken past. Love that shines beyond the glowing of a screen. Moronic musings that are best left to the vague lines in between.