affectionate impression

affectionate nt.jpgA sudden breath of air in the center of a panic attack

An impression so affectionate you forget the flaws of the real thing

New song Affectionate Impression out now on bandcamp and soundcloud



This is the beginning of something more


Dance Alone

dance alone angry pinkdance alone hollow pinkfreedom to dance alone invertelectric freedom to dance alone

It’s October here now, and things are stretching out; things are winding down. Everything blends and melds into each sequence of the day, sunshine and dusk and sunrise and midnight swirling together, vacant. There’s a vacancy in the air and nothing is going to fill it. There won’t be snow. There won’t be rain. Everything is getting closer to an ending, closer to an endpoint, like the book should be close to the final page, and if you stay up late enough, you could finish it in one night. Everything could get finished in one night.

It’s easy to forget where any of it ever came from – the energy, the emotions, the intensity, the insistence on the importance of feelings that came and went like perfume sprays and early morning rains. Everything’s painted gray; everything’s turning blue. You can get things done when life is like this. You can put your head down and slip away, fall into something engrossing, comforting, confronting, something dangerous that feels like it’s safe. No one can get to you when you’re lost in here. Sing a song. Make a painting. Scream for a while. No one’s going to know. There’s something so freeing when no one has to know. I know who I am now. It changes all the time. But I know who I am, right now. There’s a feeling of dull electricity, of numb stimulation, of vague uncertainty, when you’re just too tired to bother, when you’re ready to save it for the morning, because the morning feels a million miles away.

I want noise and I want paint. I want colors and flashing lights in the darkness and black spaces filled with neon and spotlights. I want to inhale and to hold it in. I want to breathe everything in. I want days to feel forgotten and meaningless and easy to get through and nights to feel eternal and permanent and important and unforgettable. I get like this every fall. I wish I could always feel like this. It feels like we’re all about to disappear. It feels like we’re all going to wake up in a world that’s emptied, where we’ll be all alone. It feels like we’ll be free to be anything without worry of anyone else finding us. It feels like there won’t be anyone to tell us what we can or can’t become. We’re all about to be alone and it’s entirely okay. Sometimes you have to get away. Sometimes you have to fall apart to feel the electric freedom to dance alone.


You can read my review of Nine Inch Nails’ new EP Add Violence here. This EP and the trilogy the band is doing right now really resonate with me heavily at the moment and the themes being explored click with what I’ve been working on lately heavily. I’ll be seeing them at Panorama this coming Sunday and am going to in some capacity probably write about it.

From Ground to Glass

When the bottle began it was sand, and back then it could be so many things –

dust in the ocean that’s scattered in the sea, or soil for a garden, or something in the carpet or a vacuum machine.

But then it was cast into glass, and the potential narrowed down.

It could still be so many things, though: stained and set in the window of a church, or a set of marbles, or the sculpture of a tree.

And then it was shaped into a bottle, and the options lowered still, and there were so few things, now, that it could ever hope to be –

empty or full or broken, or someplace in-between, but a bottle, still, shard(s) of glass just waiting to shatter and to be seen.

And the bottle wanted to be the sand in the ocean

And the bottle wanted to be the sculpture of a tree

And the bottle wanted to be a bowl and the bottle wanted to be a window which you would look out of, sitting next to me.

And there was a time it could have been any of these things –

But now it was a bottle, and a bottle’s all it would be.