PARAPHILIA MAGAZINE ISSUE #1

Blah blah blah…

In this issue;
Some cool stuff by some cool folks

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 CONTENTS
Cover art by Robert Agasucci Edited and Designed
By Paraphilia
Inside front and back illos by Dolorosa

Editorial p4 Díre McCain

Dave Kelso-Mitchell
―I May Be A Bugaboo…‖ text and images by
Jim Lopez p5 Contributing Editors
―Virus‖ by A D Hitchin p11
―Smoke Above The Camps‖ by Audree
Kate MacDonald - musical editor
Flynn p12 Doctor Paraphernalia - sciconoclasm
―Too Late To Say You‘re Sorry‖ by Charles
Platt p26 Contact Paraphilia
―Swastika Sunfish Afterburn‖ by James [email protected]
Havoc & Claudio Parentela p32
―Babushka‖ by Pablo Vision p37
―Uncle Edgar‖ by Constance Stadler p39 website
―Meanwhile Back At The Farm‖ by Michael www.paraphiliamagazine.com
Roth p41 www.myspace.com/paraphiliamagazine
―Drowning In My Own Reflection‖ by Tom
Garretson, images by James Bidgood p44 Many thanks to;
―Doll‖ by Claudia Bellocq, image by Sue
Stewart Home, Tom Garretson, Jim
Fox p60
―Back In Love Field‖ by Steven Severin p62 Lopez, James Williamson, Tony
―Death Wish Chameleon‖ by Cricket Parsons, Harry Kipper, Connie Stadler,
Corleone, images by Richard A Meade p63 Chris Nosnibor and everyone who
―The Frog Man‖ by Paul Stevens p66 offered words of support and help
―Lydia‘s Daydream‖ by Hank Kirton p68
―Transgressive‖ text & images by Sue Fox
. p72 Submissions
―Cactus Garden‖ by Stephen Sennitt, images This a free magazine distributed in the
by Alexandria D Douros p82 interests of giving culture back to the
―The Gimp‖ by Christopher Nosnibor p84 people instead of the industry. We can
―Madness part I‖ by Brian Routh, images by
not pay for contributions to this
Patricia Stein p86
―Peckinpah Shakedown‖ by Craig Woods publication. However, please see our
. p96 website for details of our other
―Identity‖ by Doctor Paraphernalia p108 publishing ventures.
Misc images on pages 11, 27, 29, 31 and 39 by
Any opinions or beliefs (religious,
Christopher Brandrick
political or moral) expressed anywhere
Sound Abounds by Kate MacDonald (with in this publication are not necessarily
Dominic Marceau and Kristian Carter) . those of the editors. We take no
. p114 responsibility for anything we have
published in the interest of the freedom
Contributors‘ details and contact information
P129 of speech and expression.

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 EDITORIAL
There is nothing in our lives that we can have become cretinising and debilitating.
honestly claim is unmediated. The The Aeon of Horus has ended with a
restraints and constraints of our cultural whimper.
conditioning are everywhere. With the
advent of the Industrial Revolution, the Starting here, with the first issue of this
phenomenon of mass-production that magazine we intend to establish links,
offered us new possibilities of freedom, create a network of exchange that will
exchange and dissemination of not be motivated by ‘profit’ or
information, new avenues of expression ‘popularity’. Expression is a fundamental
and knowledge also facilitated the function of the human organism and we
commodification of fundamental parts of intend to assert our rights to it in the most
our lives that had previously remained unfettered way.
within the realm of sovereignty.
Most things we produce will be free or
We realised that not only were we still as near to that as practically possible.
property but we had signed over our Basically we intend to take control of our
souls for a handful of glass beads and own functions and keep the process fluid
looking glasses. and open-ended, unstreamed, defying
labels. We want to release the Dionysian,
The cultural industries have gradually make attempts to bridge the gulf growing
cannibalised themselves, spreading like inside us and between us. We will
knotweed into every crevice of the strenuously resist all attempts by
human psyche and throttling genuine corporations to co-opt this from us again.
expression at its roots wherever it
discovers any. We are not looking for ‘authenticity’ –
(there is probably nothing more fake)
Nowadays a writer, or artist, or musician We want the raw material, the dripping
finds themselves considering their innards of your dreams and desires, the
‘career’ before they even put pen to twitching of raw nerves, the lacunae in
paper or strum a note on a guitar. The your mental frameworks, primal screams,
insidious whispering of the superego is apocalyptic storms, great golden
just over their shoulder making sure that copulations, oneiric eclipses, chthonic
any original thoughts or sincere feelings eruptions, carnivorous algorithms,
are vetted before they become a threat – decapitations…
all for what usually amounts to a kiss and
a promise. Murder your reflections and send us the
video footage, we will masturbate over
For the last few decades we’ve your posthumous suicide notes, we call
progressively acquiesced or even for the crucifixion of culture, open the
happily collaborated in this widespread prisons, disband the armies, let out all the
poisoning. Until it’s reached the state lunatics, free the animals from the zoos,
where the conditions imposed on all …
forms of creativity (artistic or otherwise) To be continued..

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I MAY BE A BUGABOO ecstatically erotic, cocaine, dick-
sucking and pooper-pummelling night.
BUT I‟M NO BUM The three of them sucked multiple
BUMPIN‟ BANGIN‟ dicks, pumped mass sums of ass and
BUGGARD: swallowed copious amounts of drugs
and alcohol into their tumid bodies.
Zonked Al poured himself what he
by Jim Lopez
thought was his last vodka and decided
to go for a swim. The motel clerk
came out and rebuked him, ―There‘s
no nude swimming allowed.‖
Friends have asked why I have been so
Sassy Al replied, ―Are You Mad? I
vociferous in explaining my sexuality.
sucked three dicks, snorted a mound of
I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch four
cocaine, and screwed a hustler in the
times at the Jane Street Theater in New
ass with the door open in your fine
York, and once at the Fonda Theater in
establishment, and now I can‘t swim
Los Angeles. At the end, when
nude! For fuck-sake, I must be going
Hedwig reveals herself to be a man,
sure, I felt as if I ―might‖ want to go to
bed with her or him. It was not the
male Hedwig that aroused me; it was
Hedwig‘s tragically sincere brio that
aroused my amorous impulse.
When driving by the Coral Sands
Motel on Western Avenue in L.A. I
have, on occasion, wanted to see all the
debauchery of the indestructible
Sodom and Gomorrah; where men
dance from can to can; where long-
necked camels chew and swallow deep
within the impetuous temple of
avaricious decadence; where character
flaunts itself uncontested, cloaked
behind the Sand‘s Grecian pillars in a
city that parades discretion
shamelessly.
My gay friend, Al, recounted an absurd
out of my mind!‖
night he had with frog-hopping lovers
I have heard that the Coral Sands
swinging at the suicide fag-hag
Motel is frequented by famous
whorehouse, haunted with improvised
Hollywood celebrities, of course, all
psychedelic tales, smoked hoaxes and
through the back door. My
punch-drunk derisive swindlers lurking
rambunctious curiosity would be
in the limelight of the corn-hole
satisfied catching a Star at The Sands.
express.
But that does not make me a
Leaving you with your frantic
homosexual.
imaginations I will merely convey a
I am quite reductionistic when it comes
whitewashed account of the bone-dried
to defining my sexuality. The male
necessities of propriety‘s hypocrisy.
body does not give me a hard-on.
Al and a friend of his picked up a
Priapic objects do not stimulate me;
young, university hustler and high
soft, wet, recessed slots with breasts
tailed it over to The Sands for an

5
do. The female body gets me stiff. be homosexuals, because of their
Thus, I am a heterosexual. I am quite recreant, incessant and rapacious
intransigent on this point, simply for arrogance.
the reason that I adore a woman‘s I identity with only three
charm and grace. I love the way characteristics of the homosexual,
generally speaking that is: one, their
fancy for art; two, their sagacious
melancholia that forces them to shun
society and retreat into a solitary night
of drinking and obsessive reflection;
and three, their proclivity for violent
and grotesque movies. All three share
an obscene joy.
My homosexual friends have been the
only ones who appreciated, understood
and envied a night I had down a filthy
alley in the East Hollywood vicinity.
One night, after leaving a bar, I ambled
home down a dark, slimy alley in a
sloshed stupor. I was vigorously
fighting with a piece of pork gristle
lodged between two molars when, all
of a sudden, I stumbled over a body.
Upon gathering my gait and offering
an apology I noticed that the man had
women look, feel and smell unless they not stirred nor twitched a bit. I
are suffering from a bad case of cautiously approached the sleeping
leucorrhoea. drunk to see if I had damaged his face
So one might ask, ―Why my interest in with the tip of my steal-toed jungle
the Coral Sands Motel?‖ boot. To my wild surprise I discovered
Simple answered, ―I‘m perverted.‖ that the man was not a vagabond nor
My lack of homophobia and my boozy
demeanour have attracted more queer
solicitations than I care to admit. I‘m
flattered that anyone would want to
suck my dick; thus, I am not offended.
But that does not mean that I want
anyone to sodden, slurp or gargle my
testicles. I‘d prefer a slovenly woman
to the best looking man.
On-one-too-many occasions,
homosexuals have considered
themselves a pundit in determining
―my‖ sexuality. I find this insulting
and irritating. I consider ―gay-dar‖ or
anyone who goes around telling
heterosexuals that they are queers, who
just don‘t know it, to be maladroitly
moronic and boring. I have lost too
many good friends, who happened to

6
passed out on cheap wine; instead he Affleck‘s ear and then wind up and
was a well-dressed, stone-cold corpse. level the unsuspecting cunt. Nicholson
I thought about calling the police but would haul-off and whack the twat a
dismissed the thought from my mind, half-dozen times with a 9 iron. Hopper
asking myself, ―Why should coroners would dose the dork with copious
have all the privileges?‖ amounts of Four Way Window Pane
At that moment I realized that there and then take pictures of the prissy
was a dormant cannibalistic ogre inside pansy. Oldman would say, ―None of
of me. I excitedly removed the this is necessary,‖ and then surprise the
umbrella cocktail garnish from my oral Betty Ford crybaby with a swift kick to
cavity and plucked out the stiff‘s the prick. And Penn would direct all
eyeball. Then I greedily popped the the action and screen it at Cannes,
eye in my mouth. I gagged that gag where Vincent Gallo would applaud
that spews the stomach into one‘s but sulk because he was left out of all
vocal orifice; keeping my composure I the fun.
valiantly swallowed. I stuck the But just because I have a few ―general‖
umbrella garnish in the corpse‘s empty things in common with homosexuals
eye-socket and bid the dead farewell. does not make me a dozing dandy.
Only three things could have topped Some might think that I am sun-
that night: one, driving around West stroked, twisted, or incurably insane. I
Hollywood with Jack Nicholson and a prefer to think of myself as enigmatic
bag of golf clubs; two, Sodomizing and eccentric. Now if the reader thinks
that I must fly down for considering
myself more than I ought too, then I
will concede, but not to being a
homosexual; I‘ll concede to being a bit
touched in the head. If I am a loony
than my dementia is due to the ill-
advised diet that is pushed onto the
American citizen by misguided
members of the FDA, who
demonstrate their poor judgments by
sanctioning more than two thousand
food additives. Now if I am mentally
deranged by reasons of genetically
induced and chemically processed
foods, well, then so is everybody else
in America; unless I have a weaker
immune system, which would make
me a genetic mishap; and/is, therefore,
not my fault. I would also have to
Audrey Hepburn, after which, I would declare that my insanity is due to being
drink the best wine that priority prematurely weaned off my mother‘s
demanded, smoke a cigarette, and then double-D sized breasts, which were
sodomize Audrey again; and three, mastectomized due to cancer and
persuading Marlon Brando, Jack insufficient health care; therefore, I
Nicholson, Dennis Hopper, Sean Penn, hold responsible the United States
and Gary Oldman to beat the shit out Government for not providing social
of Ben Affleck. Brando, with the mind health care.
of a Pharaoh, would murmur in

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When I was a child I was frequently ―douche-bag‖ or whatever meaningless
struck down by earaches and fever- blah, blah, blah, they could think of.
dreams, which exempted me from At the age of eleven my divorced
school for long periods of time. In the mother, not yet stricken with breast
mid-to-late 1970‘s I was left home cancer and coveting her milk-jugs from
alone with nothing to do but consume me, married her own Muhammad. I
large amounts of 7-Up and watch TV was, therefore, required to attend the
in between the plague of sweltering Islamic Mosque located on Vermont
vehemence; consequently, I was Avenue in Los Angeles. Well, that
subjected to the worst daytime was the mosque that the heavy weight
television commercials. The most champion of the world attended. My
annoying thirty-seconds interruption mother became acquainted with Ali; as
was listening to Muhammad Ali string she was a loud mouth herself. One
together an endless amount of violent Saturday she insisted that I meet the
rhymes and disparaging neologisms champ. I remembered those vicious
directed at cockroaches. When fever dreams amidst pounding and
aroused from a fever dream, which left biting earaches and dim-witted
me victim to abnormal, continual, commercials, so I rebelliously shouted,
rapid, involuntary movements of my ―No! Ali is a fag!‖ Then I sat behind
eyeballs, I was accosted by a large a partition while my mother flagrantly
punchy man who had nothing better to shook her enormous tits at the champ.
do but rhyme and beat the hell out of The two of them, my mother and Ali,
bounced rhymes and puns back and
forth. I was hiding out, minding my
own business--ignoring all the men
bent towards the east--when I heard
my mother bark, ―Come over here!‖
She was creating a scene as she was
prone to do. I embarrassingly walked
over to my mother and nestled up
under one of her drooping boobs.
Mammoth Ali looked down at me,
stuck his giant claw out to shake hands
and said, ―So, I hear you think I‘m a
fag.‖
My mother not only had a big mouth
she lacked discretion and a maternal
instinct to protect her young in the
halls of Islam. If, in 1979, you called a
Muslim a ―fag‖ you‘d better hope to be
shit eating insects. wrong or he might prove you right; so
At the time, no one was concerned I swiftly and adamantly denied calling
with political correctness, so I quickly Ali a ―fag.‖ Ali picked me up, twirled
labelled Ali a ―fag.‖ Declaring me around and playfully slammed me
someone a ―fag‖ did not necessarily to the floor, where he then began to
mean that that someone was a tickle me with his fist. After that, I
homosexual. Kids called one another thought he was the coolest man alive.
―fag‖ the way they called each other Ali is not a fag and neither am I.
―Shit-head,‖ ―jerk-off,‖ ―fuck-face,‖ My grandfather invented the magnet
on the electric can-opener. He was a

8
―genius,‖ but he was no pursuer of me they thought to themselves, ―I‘m in
love or truth. His ―genius‖ was not trouble.‖ My response has always
derived from the word generous or been, ―Damn straight!‖ And that‘s not
genial. My grandfather‘s ―genius‖ was only because I am straight.
rooted in the words genuine and My penis size is an average six-inches
genital. He was one of the genuine and I like getting it soaked and slogged
genitals of my existence. He was a and twirled and swirled by a woman
lapsed Catholic. He was an Irish drunk who thinks I‘m King Kong or Bing
from the poor side of Sag Harbour, Cosby and more useful than her Steely
Long Island, and he traded his patent, Dan.
of the magnet on the electric can-
opener, for a case of JB Whiskey. He
was a foolish alcoholic, so I had to
work my way through adolescence in a
drunken state, as the alcoholic gene
was my patrimony. My mother should
have committed patricide.
I invented an edible pocket pussy with
a disposable bag that caught the jizz.
A working man could drive to work,
jack-off and eat breakfast during rush-
hour traffic. I was never sober enough
to draw up a patent and copyright it,
but I did name it. I called it the
Convenient Hole.
My grandfather was a recidivistic hobo
who died alone in a trailer-park in
Henderson, Nevada. I suspected him
to be a closet homosexual.
Once a gang of hobos molested me A Boston curator who preferred
under an overpass in the L.A. River, sodomy asked me if I‘d mind her
which is no longer a river. The L.A. brandishing a turd as I pulled my chili-
River is more of a cement intestine that dog out of her ass while she was in the
slithers the City‘s filth out into the acme of sexual excitement.
Pacific Ocean. The hobos stuffed my ―In my bed?‖ I asked disgustingly.
face in a pot of hobo stew while they ―No, you schlemiel, we‘d do it in the
took turns stuffing their grimy shower.‖
sausages into my little bungie. I got a The horrible sight of my soiled flaccid
taste of rancid broth and a boiled shoe. member indicated that this woman had
They slapped me around with a crusty a poor diet. I would have puked all
mitten. They took the seat off my bike over her had I witnessed nasty faecal
and dropped it in the pot for flavour. matter oozing out of her ass while she
When they were through with me I twitched in orgasmic splendour.
rode home without a seat, feeling like When I got out of bed to splash water
Oliver Twist. on my face and clean my cock I saw
Despite this traumatic event I never her stocking lying on the floor within
veered from the heterosexual path. I arms length, so I used it for the latter.
never wanted to nor felt inclined to do Then I picked up the rest of her clothes
so. I have been told by a number of and tossed them to her. ―It sounds
women that the first time they kissed

9
enchanting, but I‘d like you to leave I thought Paolo was making a stony
now,‖ I gently demanded. baloney pass at me, so I threw a glass
I loved getting a hall pass during high of wine in his face, attempting to sober
school. A hall pass gave me a lurking him, explaining, ―Just because I live
liberty to make my way to the Gary abroad it doesn‘t mean I am a broad.‖
Glitter to smoke a spliff, pull the pud, ―What the hell are you talking about?‖
and take a shit. I was, and still am, a Paolo asked, reaching for a towel.
bit uptight about defecating in public ―I don‘t know, but children should
facilities, as my limitations manifest never play with detonating devices!‖
that I am indeed a man with issues, but Then I hit him with some Moroccan
that doesn‘t make me a homosexual. It Mud and asked, ―Hey, fag, are we still
takes me a long time to wipe the friends?‖
nutter-butter from between my buns
than it does to crap. I need time and
space; therefore, I would stroll to the
most secluded can on campus. The
shit would never manifest itself as I
spread my cheeks over a filthy
commode. I wondered, ―If Gandhi
could crap in the dankest holes of India
then why couldn‘t I drop a load in an
adolescent toilet?‖ I had no problem
jerking-off thinking about eating my
girlfriend for lunch.
Eighteen-years later, while living in
Italy, I started smoking hash again,
interrupting fifteen-years of
abstinence. I had been in a foul mood, Images by…
and thought I could use a new way of
looking at the day. One night my
friend, Paolo, and I smoked four
spliffs. Time began to pass slowly.
Paolo laughed at me. I laughed at me.
He said that I looked like Garfield the
Cat, fat and droopy eyed.
A childhood friend, named Matthew,
had a cat that looked like Garfield;
only Mathew‘s cat was named Morrisi
(said with a Spanish accent). Mathew
would get stoned with Morrisi.
Morrisi would lie on his back lodged
between Mathew‘s arm and torso.
Mathew did a perfect Pepé Le Pew
impersonation. In between kissing
Morrisi on the snout Matthew would
passionately seduce the cat, saying,
―Come Morrisi, we can do away with
all of the preliminaries.‖ This he said
while rubbing Morrisi‘s furry little
balls.

10
 VIRUS frightened population, fed into a frenzy
by the media.

By A D Hitchin I always felt he understood me. Even

now, when I ask him how he is able to
Am I Pretending? Just pacifying? cause these disasters and he tells me
Perhaps. But for three days he had about a period at the beginning of
been hysterical. Head buried in my human history when we all existed as
chest and never coming up. Breath vegetable matter and that this
wheezing in the damp creases of my vegetable matter is now our nervous
cardigan. system, I still see compassion in his
eyes. A certain lucidity.
Doctor‘s are uncertain of the exact
diagnosis at the moment. His fears Today, he managed a brief walk out
seem to be based on problem reports into the meadow. Suddenly, he stopped
on TV and in newspapers. As if the and, staring out over the fields he said:
panic has leapt from the media into his ‗I just want there to be peace.‘
veins and mutated like a virus. Now he
is convinced he has caused the recent In that single moment I have never
earthquake in China. That his anger at understood him more.
their human rights violations
manifested as a geological disaster. On
a positive note though, he did claim to
have caused the breakdown of Britney
Spears psychically. I have tried to
dwell on this ‗achievement‘, but he
remains implacable. Worse still, he
believes he will manifest much worse
cataclysms worldwide unless he can
regain some kind of control.

His Mother could be a professional

clam. Her tiny eyes stare at him rabbit
scared and she says absolutely nothing.

At times she gives me a warm,

appreciative smile and I catch her
looking at me fondly. I think she fears
I will leave him. Her most extreme
reaction was when he began shouting
about the apocalypse. I caught her
furtively gesticulating in the hallway.
The next day there were was a picture
of Mary and Jesus stuck to the fridge.
Glossy in plastic.

Perhaps these are long suppressed

guilt‘s exhibiting as delusions?
Projections lit by a paranoid, Image © Chris Brandrick

11
 THE SMOKE ABOVE PART ONE
THE CAMPS DEALING WITH THE DEVIL

By Audree Flynn

In America some people feel there is

no justice, as long as certain politicians
are immune from prosecution for their
crimes; others see no point in dwelling
in the past, and prefer to just move on.
Since 1993, Canada has been polarized
this way, by an issue of immunity and
crimes; there, too, some people say “…the vast majority remains unseen,
that justice is denied, while others hold hidden below the surface. This massive
that wisdom lies in moving forward, information pool can be damaging to
towards the light. There are reasonable all and sundry because down there, in
justifications to be made for both the deep, dark intricacies of
arguments. But there is an issue which intersecting interviews and cross-
neither stance addresses. references and chronologies, in
In Germany, in 1945, when the various veritable oceans of accumulated, often
Allied forces moved in to liberate the un-collated information, lies the truth
camps, they documented the atrocities and it seldom sets anyone free.”—
they found. As the images of things (Stephen Williams, Karla: A Pact With
once unspeakable and once contained The Devil)
found their way into the world, the
German people , the ordinary citizens Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka met
living in and around the countryside, in 1987, when he was 23 and she was
argued one of these positions or the 17. They married in 1991, six months
other, from their anger, and from their after they raped and killed Karla‘s little
shame. sister, and two weeks after abducting,
raping and killing 14- year-old Leslie
And at that time, one German man, Mahaffy. The following year, in April
whose name I do not know, but a wise of 1992, 15-year-old Kristen French
man and a brave one, I believe—with would be the next young lady unlucky
all around him, angry and ashamed, enough to cross paths with the
this man spoke to his countrymen and Bernardos, and her fate would be the
neighbours--and he said the only thing same as that of Tammy Homolka and
that really mattered and the one thing Ms. Mahaffy.
they did not want to hear:
Three months after Paul and Karla met
―It didn‘t have to come to this. We in 1987, a series of brutal rapes began
knew—everyone knew…we knew in Scarborough, a large suburban area
about Belsen…Dachau…we all knew, of Toronto where Paul Bernardo lived.
whenever we saw the smoke…we The last assault attributed to the
knew what the stench that hung in the Scarborough Rapist occurred in 1990.
air was…and if all of us who knew had Mention ―Bernardo and Homolka‖ to a
tried as hard to stop it as the one who true crime buff, and you‘ll probably
started it…this did not have to happen- hear about two things which make this
-it did not have to come to this.‖ case significant. One is that Paul and

12
Karla videotaped themselves sexually After a two year investigation
assaulting Ms. Mahaffy and Ms. beginning with the death of Leslie
French, and Karla‘s sister, Tammy. Mahaffy, and the addition of a large
The other is the part those tapes would and costly task force, Inspector Vince
play in their prosecution. Bevan, the man whose job it was to
Bernardo admitted he was responsible apprehend the perpetrators of the
for every sexual assault attributed to French/Mahaffy murders, had clues he
him (and even a few that weren‘t), but could not decipher and little else. An
he steadfastly maintained Homolka officer of Bevan‘s rank should know
had been the killer. Homolka, of that eyewitness accounts are
course, pointed the finger at Bernardo, notoriously unreliable; nevertheless,
and it isn‘t likely we will ever know based on the statements of a few
the truth of the matter. eyewitnesses who reported seeing two
men in a cream-colored Camaro near
the site of Kristen French‘s abduction,
the Inspector threw all his efforts into a
futile search for a just such a car.

Ideally, neighbouring law enforcement

jurisdictions work together in a spirit
of cooperation to move toward a
common goal. In reality, to say the
atmosphere was ―tense‖ between
Inspector Bevan‘s task force and the
However, to this day Paul Bernardo Toronto Metro police would be a gross
insists he never killed anyone, and it is understatement. When the Toronto
worth noting that while they are hardly detectives interviewed Karla Homolka
better off, the 19 victims of the regarding her husband‘s proclivities,
Scarborough Rapist are still alive. Not Bevan was not invited to take part in
one girl died until Karla Homolka, this discussion. However, he was
literally, was in the picture. allowed to give the Toronto detectives
After the death of Kristen French, a list of items they could ask Karla if
Bernardo, never the most stable she had seen, and that list included a
character in the best of times, began to watch that was missing from Kristen
psychologically ―disassemble‖. In late French‘s body.
December, 1992, he beat his wife so
badly the ER doctor reported in his 15
years it was the worst case of domestic
abuse he‘d seen.
On February 1, 1993, The Toronto
police got three positive DNA matches
to Bernardo for the Scarborough rapes,
and Karla was happy to lend them her
views of her now estranged husband.
Everything unravelled after that, and
soon both Paul and Karla would find This interview would prove more
themselves facing the legal informative to Karla than to anyone; it
consequences of their actions. told her the police had made a
connection between the Scarborough
Rapist and the murdered girls, which,

13
in fact, officially, they had not. Keep in true that may or may not be, only the
mind, this is in spite of the fact that former President can say. But I can tell
theToronto detectives who interviewed you this: the men who wear the badge
Homolka notes, she turned white as that stands for fidelity and bravery and
sheet and stammered after the question integrity-- brought none of it to Canada
about the watch; they underestimated that day.
her, and chalked this up to the stress of No doubt the police do their best with
being interviewed by the police for the the information they‘re given by men
first time. from the FBI and RCMP, but the
The following day, Karla saw her problem with that is the same one I
lawyer and after confessing the bizarre face if see a new doctor on an
circumstances of her marriage, she emergency basis—I‘m pretty much at
asked him to seek full immunity from his mercy as far as my immediate
prosecution on her behalf. Until the problem is concerned, and for all I
interview with the Toronto detectives know the man I‘m talking to is an
when Bevan‘s question tipped her idiot. The situation requires a healthy
hand, Karla‘s plan for the future, as she mistrust of authority, an attitude which,
states in her diary, was to ―get my stuff by its nature, is antithetical to law
back‖ from the home she shared with enforcement.
Bernardo, and ―go out and have some Keep in mind that Ron Mackay, the
fun.‖ RCMP officer who introduced the
On February 11, 1993, the RCMP met unpublished ―Compliant Victims‖
with the FBI to hear the profiler‘s paper at this meeting, was a protégé of
theories about men like domestic the FBI agent who co-authored it, Roy
terrorist Paul Bernardo—and supposed Hazelwood. Agent Hazelwood must
reasons why women like Homolka find have been proud that day, and I say
them suitable romantic partners. The ―must have‖ because neither I nor Roy
FBI obliged their Canadian equivalent Hazelwood were there. In fact, Roy
with a then unpublished paper entitled, Hazelwood would not meet or speak
―Compliant Victims of the Sexual with Karla Homolka about sexual
Sadist‖. This paper surveyed seven sadists or anything else, until 1996, a
women who were at that time year after Paul Bernardo‘s trial was
incarcerated for crimes they committed over—and long after Mr. Hazelwood‘s
with their spouses or lovers; generally, theory transformed Karla from a full-
it explained their criminal behavior as status 1st degree murder accomplice
aberrant, a consequence of their into something closer to the girls
partner‘s brutal treatment; put more whose deaths she was responsible for.
simply—they were beaten into being And keep in mind--when they made
bad. The decision was made at this this decision, none of the men who
meeting: the compliant victim/sexual were at this meeting—including the
sadist model best fit the dynamics of RCMP‘s Ron Mackay and the intrepid
the relationship between Bernardo and Inspector Bevan— had ever laid eyes
Homolka. And I will tell you now, that on either Paul or Karla. ―Compliant
for my country‘s part in this I am truly Victims of the Sexual Sadist‖ was
ashamed. simply a stroke of luck for the
There are people who believe the Inspector, as it became the basis for a
attacks on 9/11 became the renewed search warrant and allowed
justification for an unnecessary war, him to take back control of his own
and a war which has more to do with investigation.
profit than with principle. However After almost two years and the

14
addition of his much heralded task responsible for the investigation and
force, Bevan did not have a single arrest of Paul Bernardo, and the men
shred of evidence against Paul who prosecuted him as earnest souls
Bernardo, in spite of having run his simply doing their sworn duty to
name through suspect data banks 17 protect the good citizens of Canada.
times—he actually cleared Paul
Bernardo as a suspect in the murders a But behind this veil of honor, what is
year before. As late as February 6, now commonly believed to be the
1993, the Inspector had been quoted by necessary basis for everything that was
the press, saying it was his belief there done in the name of capturing ―Ken
was no link between the murders of and Barbie‖, has in fact, little to do
Kristen French and Leslie Mahaffy. with the videotapes or the images of
Instead of functioning as an effectively the crimes they contain—and nothing
conjoined unit, the multi-jurisdictional to do with whether or not Bernardo
teams of law enforcement--Toronto was in fact a ―sexual sadist‖ and
Metro with the Scarborough rape Homolka his ―compliant victim‖--
investigation and Bevan with Niagara In an effort to save his failing and
Regional and the French/Mahaffy expensive investigation, Inspector
murders--were squaring off in Bevan sent his officers to the home of
opposition for what would become the Karla‘s defence attorney, after hours
golden Bernardo collar. And Bevan and with an urgent message in hand.
must have seen his career flashing And if you‘re any good at poker, you
before his eyes, because Toronto know that since the police do not
Metro, with three DNA matches and habitually rendezvous late at night at
more on the way, was winning. the home of defence attorneys, when
But regardless of the truth of the they do, it says a great deal about the
matter, that Karla was a woman beaten hand they‘re holding.
into complying with the twisted desires
of her pervert of a husband, was an ***
assumption that would stick because it
served, if not a greater purpose, at least As human nature dictates, whatever we
a larger one. And when these astute can imagine is darker and more
men made their decision it was the fantastic than what is, and what began
compliant victim/sexual sadist as rumours and theory about the ―two
dynamic that best fit the picture—the morally vacuous, would-be hipsters
picture they were looking at was of from Southern Ontario‖ turned into
Karla Homolka on the night Bernardo fact when the rumours were more
beat her. Keep that very much in mind; titillating and the theories more
in The Case of The Ken and Barbie convenient than the reality. The
Killers, it‘s the equivalent of Congress Canadian government issued media
saying, Mr. President, you got your and publication bans, a tenet of their
war. law unfamiliar to most Americans and
As certain American presidents are highly questionable in a supposedly
wont to do, the aforementioned true free society. The atmosphere in
crime buff is likely not to have taken Canada became surreal: American
time for a penetrating look at the actual newspapers were smuggled across the
circumstances surrounding the crime border and whatever could not be
he reads about. In the case of Paul and found in print, the emerging force of
Karla, the likelihood is, what is written online users would provide.
will proclaim as heroes the men

15
The picture of Canadian justice we see congestion in our prisons ...
in the Bernardo/Homolka case is even Reclamation! Joy before the angels of
reminiscent of Anthony Burgess‘ God! The point is that it works.‖
socialized society in A Clockwork
Orange. At Paul Bernardo‘s trial all six hours of
According to Burgess, his clockwork the infamous sex tapes were played on
orange Alex, is: ― a creature who can a virtual loop, and the content of the
only perform good, or evil...meaning couple‘s home movies would have
that he has the appearance of an made Alex in his natural state, flinch.
organism, but is in fact only a But the jury also saw the immunity-
clockwork toy to be wound up by God protected Karla Homolka starring in
or the Devil or the almighty State.‖ that ghastly video—not as the
The metaphor accurately describes the ―compliant victim‖ of her ―sexual
final chapter of the Bernardo/Homolka sadist‖ husband the prosecution made
saga, as well; both are cautionary tales her out to be, but as every bit
that more often than evil and good, our Bernardo‘s female counterpart. And
only choice is to determine as best we after what was basically a pissing
can what truly is the lesser of two contest between the various facets of
evils. law enforcement and the Crown, the
To demonstrate the effectiveness of the highly unpopular result was that Ms.
Ludovico Technique, a form of Homolka would be leaving
aversion therapy combining violent, government custody in what amounted
sexual images with nausea-inducing to the fortnight Alex spent enduring
drugs, in A Clockwork Orange the the Ludovico Technique.
ruling political party gathers an
assortment of government workers and The Crown‘s refusal to revoke ―the
officials in an auditorium; they watch deal with the devil‖, as Homolka‘s
as State-hired actors bait and assault plea-bargain arrangement came to be
our anti-hero, Alex, who has recently known, was predicated in part on the
suffered through this two-week same faceless logic the government
―treatment‖ program. official in Alex‘s world invoked: time
In the dystopian world of A is money, and voting, tax-payer money
Clockwork Orange, Alex‘s only real at that. Millions of dollars were wasted
protector is the prison chaplain, who, on Inspector Bevan‘s task force and
appalled by this display, rises to his add to that the money to pay the
feet and cries: ―Choice. The boy has no prosecution lawyers, their assistants,
real choice, has he?...He ceases to be a the time and money put into preparing
wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a Karla Homolka as a witness against
creature capable of choosing....if a man her ex-husband--for the moment,
cannot choose, he ceases to be a man.‖ suffice it to say, a hell of a lot of
money had been spent.
While the prison chaplain‘s point is an
impassioned one, its counterpoint is But money isn‘t everything, and it‘s
swiftly raised by the official who worth noting that in A Clockwork
originally hand-picked Alex for a Orange, due to the bad publicity the
treatment candidate: ―Padre, these are government receives for the Ludovico
subtleties. We‘re not concerned with Technique, the official who hand-
motives, with the higher ethics. We are picked Alex for the program--like
concerned only with cutting down certain Inspectors we‘re aware of--was
crime; and with relieving the ghastly prepared to do whatever was necessary

16
to keep from being booted out of vaporizer, not doused liberally on a rag
office. and held over the mouth and nose. But
this is something we can be certain
Generally speaking, once people reach Karla did, not only because the happy
a certain station or position, they prefer couple videotaped themselves
to remain in that position. Some might attacking Karla‘s sister, but also
seek a higher office, but once ground is because of a particularly disturbing
gained no one wants to lose it, and if a morgue photo of Tammy Lyn
threat appears too great, the more Homolka, with a large raspberry red
likely the abuse of power becomes. burn covering her cheek and extending
This is true for politicians and police, to the hairline on the right side of her
and it‘s also true for men like Paul face.
Bernardo.
***

In the latter part of 1990, when fiance

Paul Bernardo took an ―interest‖ in her
15-year-old sister, rather than end the
relationship, or at least call off the
wedding, Karla Homolka‘s solution to
this problem was to procure Halothane,
an animal anaesthetic, and sedatives
from the vet clinic where she worked
as a surgical assistant. The thinking, if
you can call it that, was to knock her
baby sister out and ―give her‖ to Paul
Bernardo as a one of a kind Christmas
present. It was certainly more than
most women would‘ve given him, and In spite (or perhaps because) of Karla‘s
on Christmas Eve, 1990, the plan was efforts, Paul Bernardo began
put into action. expressing doubts about the upcoming
nuptials. No proof is good enough for
some people, but whatever else she
was, Karla wasn‘t a quitter. Reaching
into her bag of tricks again, she lured a
young friend of hers (known in court
as Jane Doe) to the couple‘s home, and
called Bernardo on his cell phone to
tell her soon-to-be hubby she had a

It is unfortunate for Tammy Homolka,

however, that her sister carried out this
demented act; as a veterinary assistant,
she was well aware that if the ―patient‖
has had any food or drink in the
previous 24-hour period, using
anaesthetic is ―contraindicated‖. And
she certainly knew that Halothane was ―wedding gift‖ waiting for him.
intended to be used with a calibrated

17
Keep in mind that since Paul Bernardo
did not even know Jane Doe, it‘s
impossible for Karla‘s testimony, that
he made her summon the teenager to
their home, to be anything but perjury,
which in and of itself was grounds for
revoking the plea-bargain deal. And
keep in mind Karla, all on her own,
drugged, and anaesthetized her friend,
not once but twice, in exactly the same
manner she obviously knew had killed blow to the back of the head, hard
her sister just a scant six months enough to send the brain slamming
before. forward to the front the skull.
Keep all that in mind, because no The circumstances under which this
investigation of Karla Homolka would injury occurred are as disturbing as the
come out of it, and no additional image itself: while it‘s true enough that
charges would be brought against her. Paul Bernardo enjoyed making his
Even with six hours of videotape in victims tell him what a prince he was
which she is either directing the on- while he was raping them, if we have
camera activity ―with all the blasé of a nothing else to say about his character,
photographer taking baby pictures at it should be noted that of the two of
Sears‖, as someone put it, or actively them, it was Bernardo who slowly
sexually assaulting Tammy Homolka, came unhinged in the wake of
Jane Doe, Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen Tammy‘s death.
French—in spite of that, Karla It takes some digging to find it now,
Homolka would never be charged with but the reason for the raccoon-eyed
a single sex crime, which made both injury is in the court transcript from
her present and her future Homolka‘s cross-examination; you
circumstances infinitely better than have to wonder what took Paul
those her partner in crime was facing, Bernardo so long to ask his wife why
and would face. at each Christmas reminder of
At any rate, of the two of them Paul Tammy‘s death she was not reduced to
Bernardo was the real danger, the snivelling wreck he was. But when
according to the Crown, and Karla he finally did confront her with this
Homolka‘s testimony against her now query, looking at the black-eyed
ex-husband was deemed so necessary photograph, it‘s obvious the answer
she received two concurrent 10-year was unsatisfactory.
sentences for manslaughter on the When Paul and Karla made their home
Mahaffy/French murder charges, with movie of her sister‘s Christmas Eve
obligatory ―Two for Tammy‖ years, rape, Tammy vomited suddenly, and in
also to be served concurrently, tacked the story as it‘s most often told, a
on. noxious combination of alcohol, food,
sedatives, and Halothane, caused the
There‘s a photograph of Karla taken vomit to be acidic or caustic. The
after Paul Bernardo beat her with a acidity of the vomit coming in contact
flashlight, and in the picture there are with skin is cited as the most likely
long, dark bruises under her eyes. The source of the burn.
injury is called a contra-coup, But if you look closely at the morgue
sometimes referred to as ―raccoon- photo you see very fine facial hair on
eyes‖, and it‘s caused by a violent Tammy‘s face, even in the areas the

18
burn covers. Something caustic enough Coordinating the events of that night
to leave a burn that raspberry red between the starting and stopping point
certainly would‘ve taken baby-fine of the videotape, with the time the call
facial hair with it. was made to Emergency Services and
And since it did no damage to the the time they responded—it appears
eyebrows or eyelashes, the burn does that only Karla Homolka was with her
not appear to be the result of anything sister when she died.
flammable, or the result of a splash
with something corrosive. And the
demarcated edges of the burn seem to
stand above the top layer of skin, as in
relief; in other words, the burn does
not appear to be topical, in the usual
sense, and a 2001 article in the
Canadian journal Elm Street cites
medical examiner Dr. Vincent Di Mao,
as saying that the anaesthetic ―pools‖
below the skin.
Keep in mind, it only ―pools‖ in this Keep in mind that it is standard
instance, because it‘s supposed to be procedure in the Canadian criminal
used with a vaporizer--because the justice system to release inmates at
Halothane has steadily decreasing their earliest possible parole date--after
amounts of oxygen to mix with. And serving one-third of their sentence.
keep in mind it‘s ―pooling‖ because Since Karla's two ten year sentences
someone‘s still applying it to Tammy‘s for the French/Mahaffy murders ran
nose and mouth; less oxygen--less concurrently with the two year
breath--is mixing with it. The point is-- sentence she received for Tammy's
this continues even after Tammy Lyn death, the strange accounting process
Homolka is dead. by which someone arrived at the "Two
for Tammy" years was for all intents
and purposes completely
meaningless. And even if this weren't
standard procedure, written into the
plea-bargain agreement was a clause
stating, in effect, parole was only four
short years away.

The account of this incident usually Inspector Bevan first heard the name
reads as if the assault on Tammy is in ―Paul Bernardo‖ prior to April 1992,
progress when she begins to vomit, and from the Toronto Metro police
the impression is that the events occur investigating the Scarborough rapes;
much more closely together than even before the DNA evidence was in,
perhaps they do: according to a never- a police artist‘s sketch of the
made-public police report, at the time Scarborough Rapist brought in many
her sister began ―to look funny‖, as calls naming Bernardo as someone
Karla puts it, Paul Bernardo was in who strongly resembled the image on
another room asleep, and was the flyer, and women who were nearly
awakened by her 45 minutes to an hour victims managed to get a license plate
after the videotape shows the sexual number that would prove to match
assault on Tammy stopped. Bernardo‘s car. The DNA evidence

19
from the Scarborough rapes sat for charges, and the best result that could
over two years, untested, somewhere in be realistically hoped for was a guilty
Toronto. verdict on second-degree murder,
instead of first. It wasn‘t much, but
Kristen French was abducted in April understandably, no one wanted to give
of 1992. Paul Bernardo much; with second-
Neither Paul‘s name nor Karla‘s turned degree murder convictions he might
up on a routine name search in have the chance at a life outside of
connection with Tammy Homolka‘s prison. Someday. But for today,
death, because Inspector Bevan never everything would come down to
made a routine name search for whether a jury could be persuaded that
―Bernardo‖ or ―Homolka‖. In a Karla, and not Paul, had the intent to
photograph taken by one of the senior kill.
officers investigating her death, the Homolka states in both instances she
videotape of Tammy Homolka‘s rape was present when Bernardo strangled
is sitting on Karla‘s nightstand--no one the abducted girls with an electrical
checked to see what was on the tape, cord. Bernardo‘s story is, it was always
and it was not collected for evidentiary his intention to let the girls go; in both
purposes. And the investigating instances, with Leslie and with Kristen,
officers--who had the advantage of he says he left the house to get take-out
seeing Tammy, herself--looked at what food and to rent movies, and each time
you‘ve seen and accepted Karla when he returned, the girls were dead.
Homolka‘s explanation that the red Which, given what‘s at stake, in my
mark on her sister‘s face was a rug opinion is a story that‘s just too stupid
burn, an accident that happened when to base a defense on if it isn‘t true.
in their frantic efforts to save Tammy, People who are of the opinion
Paul and Karla dropped her. Bernardo is a murderer say that once
And between Tammy‘s death and he‘d finished with Leslie and Kristen,
Kristen‘s, there is Leslie Mahaffy, and Paul thought killing them might be the
along with all of the girls in quickest solution to his problem. But
Scarborough there is Jane Doe, who looking at everything else he‘s done,
didn‘t die, and at times wishes, and the manner in which he‘s done it, I
perhaps, she had. And if you tire of my have to disagree.
constant imprecation to keep this and In his testimony Bernardo stated that
that in mind, consider yourself more both weekend nights while he was
fortunate than these young women who zigging here for take-out and zagging
don‘t need to be reminded, it did not there for movies, he also stopped at a
have to come to this. gas station. The thinking, if you can
call it that, was to make sure to fill the
*** tank because he planned to drive the
girls home the next day and he didn‘t
The narrative would be incomplete want to come to a sputtering stop
without a final word about the deaths somewhere with a missing girl in tow,
of Ms. Mahaffy and Ms. French. because you know, who‘d believe he
Technically Paul and Karla were was bringing her back—I told you it
equally guilty of first-degree murder, was stupid.
but unless Karla slipped up on the But stupid or not, ex-accountant and
stand the ―deal with the devil‖, was pack rat Paul Bernardo kept almost
deemed untouchable. Only Paul was every receipt ever given to him, so
facing the full weight of all the there is a record of all that zig-zagging.

20
And keep in mind, you have to try and need is such, he aims to make them
see this as he saw it, since proving need him in return.
intent means the difference between The Scarborough rapes were all
dying in prison, or not. prolonged attacks, lasting almost two
Karla once remarked in a police hours in some cases; Bernardo
interview that she‘d been surprised, practically showered Jane Doe with
watching Paul with the girls; she gifts, as Karla states, ―trying to buy her
described him as vicious and full of love.‖ As twisted as it as, Paul
rage in one moment, brushing Bernardo is a ―collector‖, and all of
Kristen‘s hair and almost tender in the these incidents are mini-―relationships‖
next. This is not the emotional to him; he needs all of them, and to
landscape of the sexual sadist; this is pack rat Paul Bernardo the thought of
how men behave when they‘ve been killing Leslie and Kristen would be the
made to hate their need of women - equivalent of an addict tossing away
they do not retaliate so much as they his drugs—by sheer self-interest, it
become retaliation. would be unthinkable. It defies our
For Bernardo, the girls are like a basic structure to destroy what we
special item long on layaway that need.
you‘ve had the perfect spot all picked Karla, on the other hand, has her own
out for. Once you bring it home and set peculiar and mercenary reasoning.
it in its pre-arranged place, and push it Unlike her mercurial partner, she is
back this way, and bring it forward a steadier and more careful. But as
little there—when it‘s situated to your attentive as she is, her perception‘s
liking, you don‘t grab an axe and somewhat skewed, like one of nature‘s
swing until the reward for all your mothers stealing eggs from other nests
patience lies like kindling on the to make her own nest count come out
ground. right.
It‘s risky business abducting girls in There‘s something else worth noting
broad daylight, even with a helpmate. about that black-eyed photograph of
But being the prince of a fellow that he Karla. Paul Bernardo beat his wife
is, Paul has chosen to ―reward‖ his severely all along her body; to
victims with dinner and a movie, and document how savage a beating she
made three different stops to do it, so-- received, the hospital took pictures,
once he‘s brought home the bacon, and head-to-toe. In one of those pictures
the videos, and he‘s king of his castle you can see Karla‘s wearing a watch--
again, with a pretty, little compliant it‘s not a gift, and it‘s not a watch she
wife and a young plaything to boot-- bought—but it‘s nothing fancy, just an
for the man who desires that and does ordinary Mickey Mouse watch.
all this to get it--for the narcissistic, A watch just like a million other
former accountant who never threw watches on the wrists of a million other
anything away, it makes no sense that girls, who also never quite outgrew the
his next step is to wrap an electrical well-known Disney icon. Nothing
cord around his harem girl‘s neck and distinguishes this item on the surface.
strangle her to death. But like the girl who wears it in the
As much as they are objects on which hospital photographs, what sets this
to vent his rage, in the calm after the watch apart is hiding in the light.
storm, Bernardo needs the girls like a Unlike a million other watches, this
junkie needs a drug just to feel normal. one has a primitive and terrible
And what sets him apart from the significance, like jewellery sculpted
sexual sadist is that the intensity of his from the bones of vanquished enemies,

21
worn as both adornment and a ..Leslie…or Kristen…but even Paul
warning, …I‟m capable of this…if you and Karla have unspoken
are not, I‟ll wear your bones as well… agreements…and silent rules, like all
But since there was no omen or couples do—that‘s your job, this is
thunderbolt of warning--and since mine, and most of it‘s understood--and
most everything in life seemed good, generally men know the silent rules
and right and fine, as a normal 15- exist and operate accordingly…but
year-old schoolgirl in modern-day sometimes…sometimes men forget the
Ontario, such primitive and predatory silent rules…they say a woman‘s work
thinking would never have occurred to is never done…
Kristen French. it‟s hard, because you get to know
On the only tape in which we see the these people
two of them alone, Karla regales Keep in mind, in that romantic fireside
Bernardo with future tales of all the setting, those future tales are woven a
things life has in store for them; the mere two weeks after putting Karla‘s
room is dark, and the soon-to-be bride sister in the ground. And that when
and groom lie before a roaring fire in she‘s counting off young girls in
the fireplace. Cosy. Intimate. All in all decimation style, when she reaches
it seems quite the romantic setting. ―50‖, Karla tells Bernardo, ―They can
But in her future tales, Karla isn‘t be our children.‖
talking about the car or the house …how hard must it have been for
they‘ll have some day, or of all the Leslie, or for Kristen,… thinking she‟s
things they‘d buy if they were rich the only way they might get out of
beyond their wildest dreams; she is this… hoping she might save them
counting though—there could be 10, …and finding out she won‟t…it‟s hard
20—even 50—together they could when you get to know these people…
have as many as 50, she exclaims. And Keep all that in mind, and think about
what she‘s counting off in multiples of how hard it must have been four years
10 for the one she hopes to marry, is ago this Spring, when these people
the number of young girls that as man- heard the news that Karla Leanne
and-wife and side by side, they can Homolka walked away from prison
enslave. without a single parole restriction
When she‘s asked on cross- placed upon her by the Crown.
examination about the time Kristen Or how hard it must have been two
French spent in her home, Karla years later, when they heard the news
expresses some regrets, and Bernardo‘s that day--Karla just gave birth and has
defense attorney pounces on a a child.
particular phrase she uses; according to ***
Karla, she and Kristen interacted more We‘re not little children anymore, in
like girlfriends than abductor and our post 9/11world, and that
abducted, and she seems a little wistful governments lie is a reality we accept
when she says, ―It‘s hard…because as one more inconvenient truth. But
you get to know these people…‖ while as children or adults we may not
have a choice about the truth we‘re
...You get to know these people... told, as men and women we have the
final word about the truth we choose.
You get to know these people, but the For the first time, on September 11,
weekend‘s almost over, and Karla 2001, Americans faced a fear the rest
must be thinking, too, how absurd it of the world is well-acquainted with,
is…Paul, driving them home, and being inexperienced, America

22
made poor choices; when confronted Ghraib‖, in our post-9/11 world.
with ―Ken and Barbie Killers‖ Paul A 2006 newspaper article quotes a
and Karla, the Crown made poor former Bernardo guard as saying
choices for its people. The constant is during her time on that watch, ―Paul
the question--which is the lesser of two was always cheerful‖; perhaps I am the
evils, this or that—and in this bleak only one much heartened by that news,
equation, perhaps the better variable is but like the prison chaplain in A
the feeling you were worthy of the Clockwork Orange, I would also have
effort of an outright lie, as opposed to to ask how much choice he has. The
being told you can‘t handle the truth. government which is lauded for its
humanitarianism and seeks to avoid
PART TWO conflict at all costs, must be pleased
with all his cheerfulness; the image of
PAUL BERNARDO, CANADA'S a contented Paul Bernardo would
CLOCKWORK ORANGE continue to hammer home, though the
―deal with the devil‖ might have been
"…the sins of the people thus a costly waste of time and a complete
symbolically transferred to the beast, miscarriage of justice, the point is that
and it was removed to the wilderness. it worked.
The people felt purged, and for the
time being, guiltless."
--from the Book of Leviticus
Although the media ban is still in
effect for Paul Bernardo, there was a
slight ―exception‖ made recently when
a judge‘s ruling decreed it fine and
dandy for the public to see the
videotape of Bernardo in a 2007 police
interrogation. It is in fact a sort of two-
bites-at-the-apple interview regarding
an unsolved murder in which, mind
you, no rape was committed, and for
which Bernardo has not been charged.
It‘s difficult to know to whose
These days, in his always lit and Machiavellian delight it might have
always guarded 8‘x4‘ solitary isolation been, hearing the public scorn of the
cell, 6-footer Paul Bernardo has little evil Paul Bernardo, stir-crazy now
of either the burdens or benefits of
choice, and now he stars in another
videotape sans Ms. Homolka: a
security camera, property of
Correctional Services Canada, keeps a
video record of his every twitch or
sigh, and while Canada goes on
celebrating its humanitarian record, if
you should ask out loud how these
conditions are in any way correcting
Paul Bernardo‘s ability to choose the
moral high road, you‘re likely to be perhaps from living in solitary
shushed before you can say ―Abu confinement for the last 13 years.

23
Maybe it was the Canadian equivalent Bevan had previously, and
of the twisted American genius who prematurely, arrested Bernardo on
came up the name ―Healthy Forests murder charges the Inspector had as
Initiative‖ for legislation which profits yet no evidence he committed. So that
no one but the logging industry. And opinion must be reconciled with the
sure enough, in the video, most of the nearly $11, 000, 000 the Crown wasted
interview time is taken up by crazy ol‘ on a task force which through its own
Bernardo, repeatedly asking his bungling and ineptitude came within
visitors all manner of nit-picky little an inch of ensuring Paul Bernardo‘s
questions--like what they were freedom, not just once, but twice.
thinking when they accepted the word The common thread in the morally
of his ex-wife wholly and completely vacuous decision not to revoke Karla
at face value, without so much as a Homolka‘s sweetheart deal and the
polygraph to stand on. equally faulty and mercenary decision
By American standards, this seems an to plunge us into war is that in both
altogether reasonable question, but cases a government deliberately
apparently, not by Canadian ones: deceived its people, for reasons both of
when asked about the media ban still in profit and of pride--whether it‘s Bush‘s
effect on inmate Bernardo, Donna convenient assurance that the wrath of
Marrin, Warden for Kingston Prison Saddam Hussein will rain down on us
for Men responded, ―Correctional in the form of a mushroom cloud, or
Services Canada does not at this time the Crown‘s insistence that no one‘s
feel that media attention would be in safe unless Bernardo stays in Kingston
Paul Bernardo‘s or the institution‘s until his clock runs out, regardless of
best interests.‖ When asked if he had the source or nature of the threat we‘re
or was receiving any services from told is imminent, the point is, when
counsellors, therapists, etc., such as fear makes choices for us—nothing
were well afforded to Homolka, the works.
official answer from Warden Marrin
was that this is ―a non-issue for inmate
Bernardo‖.
The Warden‘s reply is rather quick and
to-the-point, and it‘s only a bit of a
tangle for those of us given to thinking
about such things that inmate Bernardo
is in the custody of a facility that
purports to be ―correctional‖.
But then again, only those of us who
know the circumstances behind the
black-eyed photograph of Karla
understand what a grand little piece of Paul Bernardo has little reason to hope
irony it is, that as much as Inspector for a reversal of his misfortune, as
Bevan might have needed her, the Canada‘s ―Dangerous Offender‖
compliant victim theory would‘ve been statute almost guarantees he will
a harder sell if Bernardo hadn‘t remain in the Kingston Prison for Men
womped his little wifelet in the head. for what‘s left of his natural life. This
Many Canadian taxpayers are of the does not deter some folks from making
opinion that $125, 000 a year is wasted Paul Bernardo the argument for re-
on housing Paul Bernardo. But keep in instating the death penalty, but for the
mind that the ambitious Inspector time being, Canada maintains that

24
housing its clockwork orange in his 8‘ capable of this—show him mercy and
by 4‘ isolation cell for every second of he‘ll wear your bones as well. And the
every minute and so on until he dies is ordinary citizens, in their anger and
more humane than the alternative its their shame, removed the beast into the
rowdy Southern neighbours would wilderness and felt purged, and
likely offer. guiltless for a while.
Filmmaker Michael Moore is fond of In the past year I have asked many
pointing out that given its size and Canadians what they think of the
population, crime rates are lower in disparity in the sentences Paul and
Canada than in the United States. But Karla each received, and some say her
with all due respect to Mr. Moore, I sentence was appropriate. They ask if
would have to add, that depends on I‘ve
what you mean by ―crime‖. seen that picture of Karla taken at the
Before we elected him to the highest hospital, raccoon-eyed after the beating
office in the land, not once but twice, her husband gave her. And when I say
George W. Bush was a failed Texas I have, they tell me Paul Bernardo got
businessman who never held a single what he deserved.
post or job his family didn‘t arrange But that photograph is like a prism;
and which he subsequently lost. what you see is always changing,
Depending on your point of view, he is depending on the light. Hold it one
directly or indirectly responsible for way, and you see a woman who's been
the deaths of over 4,000 of his very badly beaten; turn it and you see a
countrymen—but Dubya will never see woman sculpting jewellery from your
the inside of even a county jail cell bones. Karla Homolka herself is
unless he‘s touring the facility on some something of a prism; when Paul
post-Presidential dog-and-pony show. Bernardo held her to the light he saw
As a serial rapist, Paul Bernardo is a the girl with a bright red burn across
man I should rightly call an enemy. her cheek, extending to the hairline on
But I would sooner shake his hand and the right side of her face. And better
sit across the table from Paul Bernardo than the men who stand in judgment of
than I would Karla Homolka on any him now, Paul Bernardo saw why it
given day; he is by far the lesser of had come to this.
their two evils, and thanks to the
Canadian clockwork makers who set
her free—in post-9/11 America even
Paul Bernardo is less an enemy than
either Karla or al-Queda could ever be.

***
Before they destroyed the infamous
tapes, the men who gave Karla
Homolka immunity, not once but
twice, took the documents of the
atrocities they found, and gathered the
ordinary citizens together to see the
images of everything unspeakable they
contained. With the remains of Karla‘s
vanquished enemies, they wove a tale
that told how but for him, she wasn‘t

25
TOO LATE TO SAY Well, she could finally do something
about it. She strode across, grabbed the
YOU‟RE SORRY feeder, and ripped it down. She threw
the feeder on the ground and stomped
by Charles Platt on it, splitting it open. Then she picked
it up and whirled it around, scattering
seeds all over.
She paused and squinted up at the
birds, which had taken refuge in the
Samantha dragged her father tree. ―Little fuckers,‖ she muttered.
downstairs, and his head went bump, ―Hey, Sammy,‖ someone called to her.
bump, bump on every carpeted step. ―How‘s the world treating you today?‖
His eyes were still red from the pepper She turned, disoriented, wondering
spray she‘d squirted into them, and where the voice had come from. It had
even though she‘d gagged him, he been real, she was fairly sure of that.
managed to make a moaning noise that She felt a jolt of recognition as she
really got on her nerves. focussed on her next-door neighbour,
She dumped him on the imitation Mr. Wingrove, standing by his rose
oriental rug in the front hall and bent bushes, holding his pruning shears.
over him till her nose was almost He was chubby, pink-faced, bald on
touching his. ―Shut up!‖ she shouted, top, with half-moon spectacles and a
clenching her fists, feeling adrenaline neatly trimmed white moustache. He
flowing through her, so her tendons was always humming to himself,
went rigid and her whole body started always cheerful, like those friendly old
vibrating like a knife that had been geezers they put in TV commercials
thrown into a board. ―Listen to me! I selling instant rice. Of course
said shut up, damn it!‖ Samantha wasn‘t fooled; anyone who
Still, he kept on moaning. maintained an image like that had to be
Her brain felt like an overheating hiding something. And when she
toaster oven. She blundered out into factored in his disgusting ugly wife
the front yard and slammed the door and their hyperactive boxer dog—she
behind her. couldn‘t even begin to imagine what
It was a cool, bright morning, and the they did with each other after dark,
blue sky was punctuated with puffs of when the drapes were closed.
white cloud. Samantha looked around, Mr. Wingrove leaned on the fence,
feeling confused. Which season was it, beaming at her. She saw little images
anyway, Spring or Fall? She realized of herself in the lenses of his glasses.
that it must be Spring, because she That creeped her out, so she looked
hadn‘t graduated from high school yet, down. But that was worse: his navel
and graduation always came was peeking at her between the buttons
immediately before summer. Yes, of his old white shirt, stretched tight
obviously, it was Spring. over his bulging stomach.
Sparrows were twittering around the ―Birds getting on your nerves, hey?‖
bird feeder that hung from the apple he asked.
tree in the centre of the lawn. She She blinked. Had he actually said that?
hated birds. They were always She wondered if she should get him to
bickering and pecking at each other, repeat it.
and the noise they made was so Mr. Wingrove took out a white linen
mindless, it drove her crazy. handkerchief and fussed with it for a
moment. ―Sammy, I hope you won‘t

26
mind me mentioning it, but Martha and down and seized her father‘s head
I, we‘ve been concerned, you know. I between her thighs.
mean, since your mother—‖ She looked at his face. She‘d always
She wondered if he was deliberately found it hard to believe she was related
trying to make her crazy, starting to him. He had a receding chin and a
sentences and never finishing them. receding forehead, making his head
Then she heard a faint noise from the look like a football. Close up, there
direction of her house. ―Sorry,‖ she was something inhuman about him.
said, ―I think my dad‘s calling me.‖ His skin was pasty-gray and there were
―Well, give him my best,‖ said Mr. deep lines either side of his mouth, so
Wingrove. ―Tell him I‘ll come by he always appeared to be glowering or
around eight, for the Scrabble game. scowling. He was thin-lipped and he
Martha‘s baking a batch of her pecan had small, mean gray eyes.
cookies. We‘ll bring ‗em along.‖ He He was a quality-control inspector at a
gave her a wink. ―We‘ll have a good computer factory in Newark. She
time, take your mind off things.‖ guessed it made him feel good to boss
―Right,‖ Samantha said, nodding people around and tell them that the
meaninglessly. She wondered if she stuff they built wasn‘t good enough.
should kill Mr. Wingrove. She That was certainly the way he acted at
despised the old bastard, but on the home.
other hand, she despised a lot of
people, and she couldn‘t kill them all.
Quite apart from anything else, she
didn‘t have enough ammunition.
Would a gun shop sell bullets to
someone who was under eighteen? It
seemed unlikely. Could she buy them
mail-order? No, there wasn‘t time.
She opened the front door just wide
enough to slip through, then quickly
slammed it behind her. Her father was
still lying on the floor with nylon rope
around his legs and torso, and his
wrists secured behind him with a pair
of genuine Smith and Wesson
handcuffs. As soon as he saw her, he
started moaning again.
Samantha eyed him as if he was a
piece of roadkill that wasn‘t quite dead
and might be rabid. She edged past
him, then strode into the kitchen and He goggled up with her, wincing with
opened the utility drawer. It was neatly pain. He couldn‘t see much without his
divided inside—her father had glasses, and the pepper spray had
organized it—and in a spasm of anger really done a number on him. Tears
she jerked it all the way out and threw were streaming down his face.
its contents on the floor. Samantha unbuckled the gag, pulled
She saw the tube of Krazy Glue that the rubber plug out of his mouth, and
she was looking for, grabbed it, and set it aside. It had not been as effective
went back into the hall. She kneeled as she‘d hoped.

27
―Sam,‖ he said, in a rasping voice. of the rug, curled it over him, and
―Sam, please, please don‘t—‖ rolled him up in it. Then she seized one
The sound of his voice grated on her. end, braced herself, and started
―Shut up!‖ she shouted at him. ―I told dragging it across the parquet floor.
you, I told you to shut up!‖ She Fortunately the floor was nice and
grabbed his lower lip between her shiny, because Samantha was always
finger and thumb, ran the tube of glue dousing it in Mop ‗n Glo. Her father
along it, then pinched his lips together insisted on it. The whole house had to
and held them for a second. When she be neat and clean. ―All squared away,‖
saw that he was struggling to open his that was what he wanted, and she had
mouth and was unable to do so, she felt learned a long time ago that she should
a big wave of relief. give him what he wanted, because the
She stood up, rubbed her hands to and penalties for failing do so were liable
fro across her thighs, and stepped into to be nightmarishly unpleasant.
the living room. She stared out of the Samantha dragged the rolled-up rug
window to calm herself. There was the through the kitchen and opened the
mailman, driving his little white Jeep door around the side of the house, onto
along Hilltop Avenue. He looked a a narrow concrete path that ran
nice guy, but Samantha knew for a fact between the house and the garage next
that on more than one occasion, he had to it. She managed to get the rug out of
stolen letters that were addressed to the house, across the path, and in
her. through the side door of the garage.
She watched him stop and dump some Finally she slammed the door behind
mail into the mailbox at the bottom of her, switched on the light, and paused
their driveway. Petunias had been to get her breath back. She looked at
planted around the post that supported the work bench along the end wall,
the mailbox, inside a cute, miniature obsessively tidy, with tools hanging
picket fence that was just six inches above it. All squared away, indeed.
high. Samantha despised the mailbox Her father‘s old Chevy Blazer stood
and the picket fence and the petunias gleaming under the fluorescent lights,
and everything else here in Paramus, bright red, smelling of Simoniz. The
New Jersey. When she‘d been younger Blazer had big fat tires and stood a
she‘d listened to that old song, I Don‘t couple of feet off the ground, which
Like Mondays by the Boomtown Rats, wasn‘t particularly useful anyplace
and she‘d imagined shooting everyone, within a hundred miles of their
just like the lyrics said. suburban neighbourhood, but her
father was a survivalist nut, always
Well, she could grab her father‘s cash- predicting the decline and fall of
stash, now, and his 9mm Beretta semi- civilization, and owning the vehicle
automatic handgun, and his car keys. seemed to give him some stupid sense
She didn‘t have to sit around of security.
imagining things anymore. She could Samantha smiled to herself. It was
go out and have a really good time, as going to give him a whole lot more
soon as she took care of the unfinished than that.
business here. She unrolled the carpet and dumped
She moved back into the hall and him onto the cement floor. She was
squatted down beside her father, who trembling with anticipation, now.
was struggling in his handcuffs and She‘d thought about this a lot, over the
making snuffling noises as he breathed years. Every Sunday night, when he
through his nose. She grabbed the edge crept into her bedroom and took off his

28
pyjamas, revealing his penis sticking the road before long; the traffic on
out short and hard like a small Garden State Parkway was just
cucumber, and he rubbed Vaseline on impossible on Saturday afternoons.
it and held her down and screwed her She went back to the workbench,
in the ass . . . she‘d dreamed of things opened a drawer, and rummaged
to do to him that would be especially around till she found something that
interesting and painful. she‘d bought a long while ago,
She went to the workbench, picked up planning ahead for this happy day. It
some sheet-metal shears, and walked was an adapter that converted the end
back to him. She pinned him with her of the hose so it would push-fit over a
foot in the small of his back and used large faucet.
the shears to cut away the seat of his She screwed the free end of the hose
pants. into the small end of the adapter, then
There was a pungent smell. She peered went around to the rear of the Blazer
closer and saw that he‘d shat himself. and pushed the large end onto the
Gross, she thought. Really gross. Still, tailpipe. She used a screwdriver to
it meant he was scared of her, which tighten the built-in hose clamp, so it
gave her a little leap of satisfaction. was securely joined to the vehicle‘s
She took down the garden hose from exhaust system. Then she went back to
its hook on the wall and rammed the her father. She bent over him,
nozzle into his anus. He squirmed and determined to say the words that she‘d
made more smothered noises, and she always imagined saying. ―Listen,‖ she
kicked him in the ribs, hard. ―Lie still!‖ said. ―This is for all the times you did
she shouted at him me up the ass.‖ She hesitated. ―Are
you listening to me?‖
He was squinting back at the hose,
unable to believe what he was seeing.
Well, he‘d better believe it. She felt an
odd tingling sensation in the skin of
her belly. Her cheeks were flushed,
and her hands were shaking. This was
really it.
She got into the driver‘s seat of the
Blazer and rummaged through the
cassettes her mother had left in the
glove compartment. Mostly New Age
junk, but there was an ancient AC/DC
tape at the bottom. She pushed it in the
player, switched on the ignition, and
turned the music up loud.
Then she started the motor. It was cold,
It was important that the hose was so the automatic choke kicked in,
inserted securely. She used more making it idle fast. Exhaust fumes
Krazy-Glue, then added some rope. started pulsing down the hose and up
She tied it around his waist, nice and her father‘s ass.
tight, then down between his legs, She walked back and bent over him
around the hose pipe, like a harness. intently, so she could watch his face.
She realized she was sweating. This His eyes were getting bigger and his
was taking more time and effort than head was shaking from side to side,
she‘d expected. She had to get out on making his cheeks wobble. He started

29
thrashing, trying to knock the hose out This time, the vomit had a brownish
of his ass, but it was tied and glued tinge. Samantha hadn‘t quite expected
securely. this. But then, she hadn‘t really known
He arched his back and made straining, what to expect. The Blazer was
desperate sounds. His lips were still pushing out large quantities of exhaust
glued together and his eyeballs looked gas. It had to escape someplace.
ready to explode. Her father vomited a third time. No
On the cassette player in the Blazer, doubt about it, the stuff coming out of
AC/DC were singing If You Want his mouth had become shit, pure and
Blood, You Got It. simple. Samantha was fascinated,
Samantha‘s father spasmed as if an seeing her father barfing diarrhoea.
earth tremor was passing through him. He started gasping like a fish. A
His neck bulged, and two streamers of terrible croaking sound came out of his
yellow vomit came spurting out of his throat. She bent her head, trying to
nose. It soaked his shirt and started hear what he was saying. It sounded
trickling down around his face and like orry, orry, orry.
neck. He made frantic throttling noises. She looked at him in disbelief. ―You‘re
―Damn!‖ Samantha muttered. If she saying you‘re sorry?‖
didn‘t take immediate action, he could Feebly, he nodded. There was nothing
choke to death. left in his gastrointestinal system; it
She ran out of the garage. It was still a had all been blown out. Exhaust gases
bright, spring day outside. For some were flowing freely, now, up his anus,
reason, she‘d expected it to be night through his intestines, and out between
time. The sparrows in the front yard his lips. Once in a while his chest
were pecking at the seed that she‘d spasmed as he managed to take a quick
scattered into the grass, and Mr. breath, but his eyes were glazing over
Wingrove was throwing a tennis ball from inhaling carbon monoxide.
for his boxer dog. Samantha watched Samantha shook her head in wonder.
the dog romping up and down, up and ―It‘s too late to be sorry,‖ she said.
down. Mindless, she thought. She picked up the sheet-metal shears,
Mindless, and mystifying. leaned over him, and snipped the rope
But she didn‘t have time to wonder that she had coiled around his body.
about that. She ran into the house, His shirt ripped open, popping its
found some lighter fluid among the buttons, and his stomach bulged till it
stuff she‘d emptied out of the utility was even bigger than Mr. Wingrove‘s.
drawer, and ran back. She closed the Samantha took one of the lengths of
garage door and turned the music up rope and looped it around his throat.
louder in case her father started She made a slip-knot and jerked it
screaming. Then she squirted the fluid tight. Then she went to the Chevy and
onto his mouth, dissolving the glue. jammed her foot down on the gas.
His lips sprang apart. His chest heaved, The exhaust pressure increased, and
and a huge gush of chunky puke came the motor started making an unnatural
glug-glugging out of him. Samantha hammering sound. The garden hose
jumped back, afraid of getting it on her twitched on the floor. Samantha‘s
pink sneakers. ―Ee-e-ew!‖ she shouted. father started inflating like a balloon.
He struggled to breathe. His face was His pants ripped open at the waist. His
covered in sweat and snot and tears stomach was huge. Would it burst? She
and vomit. He stared up at her watched with eager fascination. His
imploringly. But before he could say mouth was gaping wide, but the
anything, another spasm seized him. tourniquet around his throat was

30
holding tight. His face turned so dark, face was contorted in a silent scream.
it looked black. Fierce hissing noises The eyes were blood red, staring wide.
came from around the hose where it Samantha clutched her arms around
was still rammed up his ass. herself and giggled some more. She
Samantha moved a rubber floor mat so tried to stand up, but her legs were
that it held down the gas pedal. Then weak. She had to sit down again and
she took a bunch of keys out of her take a couple of deep breaths.
pocket, walked back to her father, and Finally, she got up and walked back to
unlocked the handcuffs that had been the workbench. She picked up a
pinning his wrists behind him. screwdriver, then put it down. She
He flailed wildly. He clawed at the hefted an adjustable wrench, then laid
rope around his neck. His fingernails it aside. Finally, she grabbed a five-
gouged the skin and she felt a little pound sledge-hammer. ―Always the
thrill as she saw blood trickling out. right tool for the job,‖ she muttered.
But he couldn‘t undo the knot. It was She walked back to her father and
embedded too deep in the swollen squatted down near his head. She
flesh. gripped the handle of the hammer in
In desperation, he seized the sheet- both hands, raised it high, then brought
metal shears where she‘d left them on it down as hard as she could, smacking
the floor. He tried to use them to cut the head of the hammer into her
the rope. But his coordination was father‘s face with a sucking, crunching
shot. He only succeeded in stabbing noise. Samantha hit him a dozen times,
himself. Finally, losing all hope, he till his skull was pulverized and his
closed both hands around the shears, face was a pulpy mess of gristle and
raised them high, and drove them into shredded brains.
his own chest. That felt much better. She stood up and
There was a loud, wet smacking sound stepped back, surveying her
as blood jetted up and his internal handiwork. She nodded approvingly,
organs splattered out. A piercing shriek and reached for the door handle. ―All
gradually diminished in pitch as the squared away!‖ she said.
pressure inside him finally escaped,
taking most of his guts with it.
―Wow!‖ said Samantha. She giggled (This is the first chapter of the as-yet
and slumped down in the driver‘s seat, unpublished novel ‗Blood Crazy‘ by
trembling all over. She felt weak and Charles Platt.)
giddy, as if she‘d just had a Images © Chris Brandrick
humongous orgasm. ―Wow!‖
She switched off the motor, then
stopped the music. It was suddenly
very quiet in the garage. Exhaust
fumes stung her nose and made her
eyes water, and there was a nauseating
smell of shit and vomit. She heard a
wet noise, and saw that blood was
dripping off the ceiling into the lumpy,
gory swamp below.
The remains of her father looked like a
deflated beach toy. The bony outline of
his rib cage was visible under the
covering of skin that remained. His

31
 SWASTIKA SUNFISH AFTERBURN

Text by James Havoc

with d m mitchell
Art by Claudio Parentela

cities anti-code:: starry over bones

burning enter of dousing, by with
guts eye-reducers, funerals of wired a
blitz cum pulped of negator, in
accelerator::fucks and spasm,
powdered beast poison from whose
torture in an ancient bolt coiled planet
vampire seeded ray on horn,
dimension-crypt the panther seven
times in venus::larval adamantine lips
that horizon, to spectral crystal total
chthonic coruscating torches ossifiers
of launched raised coprophagic twist,
intravenous leviathan, stüka prey
complex centipede of spitting idolaters in mushroom a magnetic basalt
catafalque cortex flaunting keratin codex, invertebrate venereal glut treasure
crabs tilts fractured ripples asylum mournful, feeds from ultra-sonic, in
hanging, hunger hybrids, tainted listing, matrix, in vermilion cataclysms, of
primordial, node hammers rock of imprinted vampire panther on splash
insurrection, shifting alien spinning marine retracted::

satanic curses, silver interceptors,

into spark vixen in napalm golden
with jackboot arachnid emanates
retroflux, quasars in filth, in flayed,
helix of haunting albino pulsars a
solar cascade bones metal dice,
rising crosses implode, fur inferno,
messianic evil spitting scarring,
oblivion, atavistic eagles, holocaustal
hooded neon membrane, under

32
fugue of she-head in crypt propulsion
equator, unfurls, by stabs in eyeball,
reversing in decapitators absolution,
mirror, incinerator velvet in fletched
arcing lava shifting of dome over
suicides arachnid cramped tattoo
leviathan, fractured cadillac, on solar
archetype, generating in ruins
launched broiling funerals emanates
shotgun kraken crematorium, nexus,
echoing ectoplasm psychosis sado-
grid disgorges crustacean from
afterburners, love diz-buster mass of
haunting racked saturn basalt vermilion phantom she-division, iconic firing,
glimpses receptors, cross-bones slaughter corpses by brains devices, wolf,
code hammers left eyes that inaugurating ringless feeds faeces swordfight
seismic chaos, offal stabbing sigil, unleashes sperm synapses, lice continuum,
flash, combustion, six angel from as
firewall dousing, codex, cataclysms::
A darkly:: razor engages:: cyanide
by sable electric of psychopaths
crustacean one filth, kill-convectors,
teenage foetus ophidian the proclaim
hunt revolver, neon glimpses
queen dust scarring, void by heavy
the ghosts spume feral stitching
switchblade cobalt membrane, of a
hook, sodom impaled vulture spikes
in disgorges fathom, counter-crush
that clitoral a muscle under killed
sewers, in keloid sixes, cohorts
bible groove revulsing helix into
mirror, vengeance sado-grid tongue
decay love from branding
shimmering cryptic crowning ventilator, prehistoric in cell, ashes psycho-
fasces dais, trip cleft espies fury future of velvet ambergris luminescent drives,
glaciers, bitches, that sect cave of mass that sloughed churns tendrils, crimson
disembowelment, from galleon marine corpses covens albino razor
retracted:: convulsing..

33
burning eyes synthesize cadillac, sable brimstone vision blasphemies,
archetype, nocturne gizzard swastikas storm switchblade ruins destroyers
cosmic viral funerals the annihilator, crucifixion adamantine ossifiers into
echoing ectoplasm pandemonium demonolators butterfly: the braziers queen
from afterburners, cobalt tombstone racked ray reflex, succubus vermilion
with negator, of iconic ice into luminescent galleon saturnine, sonic brains
clitoral across code a from of venus, of coprophagic super-ciphered, the feeds
faeces in the molten offal stabbing vulture in crescent, concatenators, flash,
crawling, combustion, in from pelvic dimension, coelacanth, of prism node
dimension, of cages ophidian groove syndrome ambergris avalanche::

kill-convectors, anvil, satanic

suppurates amputators stüka of
wired interceptors, into spark
napalm whirlpool ante-chambers,
moonchild arachnid in ditch
blasphemies, in housing hunt in
helix pincers:: pulsars fang vulva,
absolution, slaughter bones dice,
rising in surmounts of inferno,
messianic evil war mega-voltage,
atavistic eagles, sun-head neon
mega-voltage, membrane, ice bible
fugue into propulsion of suicides
speed voodoo sores eyeball, poised
lucifer, decapitators mirror, gouging
velvet in fletched revolver, shifting sixes, complex burning of cramped tattoo
keratin into rim she-head unfurls, vented killers hex portals into ectoplasm
abomination silver death-fist fire beauty trash ante-chambers, suicides
pandemonium underbelly jackboot she-cat in palace eclipses of noise of
tectonic howling octane gasoline speed pentagrams that veil arachnid saturn
flex pelvic amber, the talon annihilator, eyes refracting cannibal embryos of
necropolis locust sores retroflux, lizard hurricane: that feedback of chaos,
spark screwing flowers cockroach coelacanth, anti-protons into incandesces,
rising tattoo temple occult of towers, plumes, bullet-proof, the hundred-
storey ramparts, über-carnage, in strip kraken neo-nebula barbed-wire
parasite tombstone epidemic, sickle-shaped shards husk amino-skeletal
synchro-slashers, gloating, super-ciphered, ferric triggered::

34
 in cytoplasm, equator, maiming as
reels arterial, weeps in creation
credo, lures, dagon and anti-bibles,
at hawsers, lash, resonance of
runes pendulum:: erotic extinction,
sunset of icon prism deep-sea
aeons-old torn implode, whose
coral on rim negatives eye-
reducers, hades to dimension,
synapses, of syndrome crimson
kill-convectors, anvil, in amputators
stüka lizard cryonic vainglorious
barbed-wire idolators whirlpool by
necropolis ditch continuum, housing hunt atom in fireball tongue the
pincers:: cinched wheel absolution, slit, slaughter genocidal communion::
surmounts wired from cannibal contusion, war glitter mega-voltage, killed
poised phosphorescent neural hentai ice into killers of brides hurricane:
ramparts, arterial, pendulum::
she-cat speed mantis sores mesh
poised collapses, lucifer, rapes
cohorts snowblind gouging of
exterminators, unleashes über-
carnage, complex burning sores
keratin into primordial, cryonic
prehistoric void vulva, from
blasphemies, of gizzard under
heat that into viral rim world
poison seven adamantine ossifiers
into cretin butterfly: the braziers
labyrinth queen suturing fetish,
disembowelment, cyanide
counter-crush crystal missiles drug of howling reflex, priapic night saturn in
assimilator concatenators, flash, to ice into luminescent that galleon sonic in
chthonic with vented fur of super-ciphered, ripples hex silver howling planet
molten vulture espies galaxies at glimpses in telepathic from black light
dimension, spitting node würm and drug maggot-peelers braziers and
whose housing pulsars firing, hyper-space one splash transfixed skullplate
vivisectors, sonic entrails, in sun-head liquid glitter hentai war anvil, pact
tears lava angel diamond infection in blood loops codices of fang from

35
oblivion, vision decapitators from mass ice vulva, malediction, würm oneiric
ruins mastercharge, lesions king, masque destroyers retinal absolution, into
strobic target, afterburners, carnal sulphur the astral crescent, in zodiac evil
synapses, snowblind cinders, of cross-bones labyrinth bare blasphemies,
wreckage, hunting continuum, cascade with cyclopean ducts fecalithic with
archetype, that laved cold compass of devil-ship arctic born of lairs, into
orgiastic, scavengers avalanche::

moving generating combustion, at waters, blaze augurs sub-aquatic hooded

vectors, in saturnine funerals hovel,
phosphorus ray mirror, prehistoric
elevator on vulva, solar generating
under cohorts into diz-buster with
world emanates shotgun crystal
kraken cytoplasm, of cretin lung
reverb disgorges crustacean revolver,
tombs vengeance fetish, devil-ship
feast of lucifer, counter-crush sewers,
ossifiers drug the saturn of chthonic
basalt underbelly, refracting she-
division, branding flash, to receptors,
vesuvial spinal corpses by sigil, in
king, with vented fur left of that bullet-
proof, inaugurating ringless creep
silver howling planet cross-bones glyphs unleashes satanic sperm synapses,
lice with espies galaxies six hunt of coruscating firewall light embryos
coruscating codex, panther vertigo darkly::

splash hentai insurrection in radiating bare ashes marine proclaim tombs vex
tattoo curses, tectonic lizard barbed-wire idolators lures, golden by emanates
retroflux, alien continuum, filth, atom flayed, laved wheel kuroneko
photocidal solar cascade genocidal magnetic crosses cannibal cicatrix
labyrinth exterminators, scarring, oblivion, cinders, poised phosphorescent
neural hentai heavy anus impaled under the terror killers cum to crypt
equator, pendulum:: glamours she-cat locust reversing wasps blood rapes
cohorts snowblind flag of exterminators, liquid lava decapitators muscle dome
guts cretin sores incubus in fractured matrix…

36
 BABUSHKA as the prosaic dishes on offer. Set in
the centre of our own table, there is a
(OPENING NIGHT grope cage containing five old crones,
REVIEW) who may be fingered at will, and,
sampling only three of these tired hags,
By Pablo Vision the monotony of atrophied labia and
prolapsed vaginas seemed to make the
Babushka is the first eagerly awaited wait for the starter of tomato and
venture into the ‗nocturnal-decadence‘ smoked salmon roulade even more
club scene by super chef Antonin execrable.
Ducasse. ‗A homage to de Sade, as
seen through the more grotesque lenses The entrée itself, when it finally
of Dali‘ the pre-publicity states - but arrived, was of adequate texture, and
the question on all of our lips - will it the salmon well balanced with the
be as overwhelmingly dull and tedious tomato, but what should have been
as de Sade? only a hint of tarragon was decidedly
The much reported financial, and legal, unsubtle, and the dressing - that only
problems that resulted in the delay of meagrely covered the rocket and
this grand opening have, of course, watercress - seemed to resemble the
meant that other clubs have already watery secretions of our table
capitalised on this niche, but growing, entertainment.
market, and one cannot, therefore, help
but stifle a yawn at the chains, whips, The wine list, it has to be said,
and sundry fetishalia on display in the manages to salvage something of
predictably dark entrance hall, where Babushka‟s reputation – as extensive
one waits until a ‗master‘ attaches a and well thought out as any in London
collar and leash before being led to the – but also true that it might be the most
table. exorbitant as well. The Haut-Brion is
possessed of a very deep nose, a very
Babushka promises a different dining robust structure – unlike the thin,
experience with every visit, but a swift disagreeably elastic, vaginal walls of
perusal of the menu would lead one to the caged harridans – and the
doubt that there will be much repeat crescendo of fruit is delightfully
business - smoked duck and roasted impudent.
artichoke hearts with a hazelnut,
fenugreek and orange dressing, being Babushka springs it first real surprise,
indicative of the lack of adventure. when one is led, once again by the
Possibly to distract from the ennui of ‗masters‘, into what is called the
Babushka‟s distinctly underwhelming ‗Sadetorium‘ for the main course.
menu, they have arranged a different Geriatric gimps are chained to the
scenario for each table. Two very old walls, or otherwise restrained on
women are suspended above the torture chairs, and the fragile brittle
adjacent table – the breasts showing bones and reduced cognitive
obvious signs of the loss of tissue and functioning of these unwilling
subcutaneous fat that render them flat submissives, does add a touch of
and saggy – their slightly inverted excitement to the ambience, but, like
nipples are clamped, and patrons are all else in Babushka, it wears thin very
invited to summon the waiters by quickly, and is not, after all, that
pulling on the chains attached - dissimilar to the pederastic attractions
however, the service seems as lifeless on offer at Pied Piper, with its

37
infinitely superior cuisine. Again there available disintegrating orifices being
are different entertainments offered at as poorly planned as the menus. And, it
each table: Perspex commodes to view has to be said, that it is precisely the
the dribble of stress incontinence, a age and pliability of the assorted
‗pruritus vulvae triptych‘, and a highly harridans, that makes the after-dinner
contrived, and almost geometrical entertainment seem almost consensual
arrangement of one varicose beldam – even to the point of absolute tedium.
doubly penetrated by the stumps of Babushka certainly isn‘t the worst of
two hideous termagant amputees. But, the nocturnal decadence clubs in the
much like the food, there is a parlous city, but, at prices around £300 per
lack of piquancy to it all – a distinct head, it is not that far away from
overall sense of disappointment. achieving that particular accolade
Having sensibly eschewed the lack- either. It may manage to survive for a
lustre duck and orange, I opted for the few months on the cash of
suckling pig stuffed with foie gras, and unsophisticated, and unsuspecting,
although the young flesh was succulent American tourists, but unless it can
and tender enough – still Babushka resolve its many problems, and find
conspires not to make the most of the some sort of inspiration from
contrast between the food and the somewhere, it is quite likely to drag
gristly old women on display - the Ducasse down with it. And that is a
acidity of the marinade having caused great pity, for - let us not forget - he
a leaching of bone into flesh, was once one of the most promising
somewhat like the reabsorption of bone chefs of his generation.
in the flagellated osteoporosis-harpies
that may as well be served up instead.
The passé perversity of throwing
tequila-flamed calamari on the same
plate as suckling pig again
demonstrating that Babushka will soon
be more of a forgotten corpse than the
most dismal cadaver ever fornicated at
Necro.

So wholly unsatisfied with everything

on offer so far, I proceeded to the after-
dining entertainment - bypassing
desserts so dire they are completely
unworthy of mention. The watersports
room is entirely tiled and the no-
restrictions policy is at least observed.
I was able to fuck some ancient bound
and gagged witch from behind whilst
pushing her head in the toilet or
rubbing her face into the excrement
splattered on the wall. But, once again,
there was an interminable wait before I
was able to mouth-fuck another of the
senile shrews. So just as Babushka
fails miserably with the food, so it does
here too – the ratio of clubbers to

38
 UNCLE EDGAR Ever
Questing
Amontillado
By Constance Stadler
That all
Ever
That
Baltimore’s
All
Own
Gutter
Were You.
Splayed
In the Sepulchre
Marinade
Miasma
Of
Torrential excreta
The Resounding
&
Sounding
Booze-sopped
Seas
Rot.
Where Mediocrity
‘Arrogant, reprobate
& Genius
Godforsaken
Beggarly’
Bob and Weave
Execration
Bob and Weave
Of
‘Hideous
We Dissever
Mortification’
Evermore
Beyond the
How could I know?
Compass
In my Catholic
Pleated
Cleaved.
Adulation
But at
Eventide
That the Throbbing
I lay down my pride
Derangement
Of
Gobbling
Amaranthine Palpation
Kaleidoscopic
Ampoules
That the Ebon
Savoring
Plumaged
Swallow
Accusation
&
Quaffing
Glide.
Sanity/Soul
Brew
Staving Unhallowed
Dominion
That Detested
As
Fortunato
Mephistophelean

39
 Bride.
Eternal Travelers
Seizing Of Valley Shadow
Hound of Usher Where Demons Pillage
By the Throat &
To Denude
Engrave
& Where Horror rakes the Dawn
Inscribe. And Soundless Screams are
Born
Yes, Where Joy is ‘ere Foresworn
Your And Adamantine Breath, Be
Ever-lasting
Torment Mourned.
Is Kindred
Close Two Ravaged Lives
Betide. Bestrewn.

And the Angels Sob Prophetic sounds…arise forever

As Vermin Fangs From Us, and from
In Human Gore,
Imbued. all Ruin …

40
MEANWHILE, BACK AT and began to masturbate – <<No way
you gonna kill my Bessie!>> – he fired
THE FARM the gun – meat and blood exploded
from the back of a sheep – <<What the
by Michael Roth hell you doing, Pa!>> John shouted
<<Now put that gun down before
someone gets hurt!>> – another shot
<<Still going to kill‘em, eh John?>> made a hole in the side of the barn –
Uncle Charlie said, spitting at the fence <<Bessie‘s my piece of ass! You can‘t
post – <<Yep.>> – <<No matter he take that away from me!>> – <<He‘s
saved your boy?>> Charlie gestured to finally lost it.>> Charlie whispered <<I
the pig, brown hairy skin covered in think we got to kill him before he kills
mud and shit – <<Nope.>> – <<Well,
uhhh …>> Charlie spat on the fence
again – <<See it don‘t matter in the
end.>> John said, scratching his cheek
<<It‘s just a dirty, stupid animal. It‘s
just food.>> – <<Guess so.>> – around
the corner of the barn sat young
Bobbie, burning ants with a
magnifying glass – he noticed his dad
and Uncle Charlie over by the pen – he
watched as they spoke – listening –
hoping they were not going to kill ol‘
Bessie – he loved that pig – loved to
rub it‘s rough back and rump – the
sharp short hair, the grunting, the smell
of shit – he found it all so exciting –
besides he owed the beast since it
saved his life – one day hanging over
the fence – balancing on the wire with
his stomach – fingering Bessie‘s us.>> – <<We can‘t just kill Pa.>> –
asshole – wet with shit – the other <<Why not?>> – they waited,
animals in the pen spooked when the stomachs to the ground, listening for
pig let out a deep grunt and stampeded the old man‘s footsteps – meanwhile
– Bobbie fell into the mud where he over at the outhouse, Jimmy was
would have been trampled by the rubbing shit over his erect cock – he
beasts if not for Bessie who dragged didn‘t hear any of the gunshots – too
him to safety – Bobbie‘s thoughts were absorbed in himself – sniffing his
interrupted by a shotgun blast that fingers – eyes rolling back into his
echoed through the farm – Grandpa head – back in the yard, Mama had
staggered down the steps of the porch walked out onto the porch to
from the house into the yard – shotgun investigate the ruckus – she saw
waving in his right hand – a near Grandpa writhing in the dirt, crying,
empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the left hugging a bottle of liquor – the
– <<No way!>> Grandpa yelled – the shotgun on the ground a short distance
gun went off again – blowing apart a away – she strode down the stairs into
chicken walking by the barn – Charlie the yard – <<What in heaven‘s blazes
and John ran into the barn for cover – is going on out here?>> she shouted,
Bobbie, eyes wide, pulled out his cock surveying the area – John and Charlie

41
peered out through the barn door <<Devil‘s work!>> – Bobbie grunted,
before crawling out into the open – eyes bulging – Momma hit faster and
Mama caught sight of Bobbie faster until the boy ejaculated – <<Out!
masturbating at the side of the building Out! Out! Now Momma‘s gonna show
– her face red with anger – she strode you God‘s work.>> – she lifted her
over to the boy and picked him up by dress and sat on Bobbie‘s still erect
the ear – <<Look at the bad example penis – <<Adam begat Seth and Seth
you‘re setting for poor Bobbie!>> she begat Enos and Enos begat Cainan
hissed, shaking her head with disgust …>> – she moved her hips slowly,
as she dragged the boy across the yard thrusting with each name spoken –
into the house – Charlie and John <<… and Cainan begat Mahalaleel and
walked casually over to Grandpa, who Mahalaleel begat Jared …>> – Bill
continued to writhe and foam at the crawled into the room with TJ still on
mouth – <<What we gonna do, his back – <<Sorry Momma, didn‘t
Charlie?>> – <<We do what we do know you was still busy.>> – Momma
with any mad dog, John.>> – Mama did not hear her – <<… and Jared
dragged the screaming boy into her begat Enoch …>> – TJ stood up,
sewing room bumping into Tammy-Jo shrugging her shoulders, ordered Bill
who was outfitted only in cowboy into the corner – she tied the whip
boots, black leather riding chaps and around his neck and sat onto his face,
vest – she was whipping cousin Bill smothering him – out in the yard,
who was hanging naked from the Grandpa was kneeling behind Bessie,
ceiling, bound and gagged – <<My fucking her, rubbing his hands over the
word, how many times have I told you coarse skin – John and Charlie looked
two not to play in my fixin‘ room. on, pants down, hands stroking their
Now get out ‗cause I got some fixin‘ to cocks – <<Look son, you can‘t knock
do!>> – <<But Ma, we‘re just getting it until you try it.>> – the pig grunted
to the good part.>> – <<None of that, and squealed, rolling it‘s eyes, shaking
child, now out!>> – Tammy-Jo cut Bill it‘s rump in rhythm with the thrusts –
down while Momma tied Bobbie to the Charlie moved behind John and placed
chair – Bill got on all fours and his his cock along the crack of John‘s ass
cousin mounted his back – <<Giddy while taking his brother‘s cock in his
up!>> she yelped and he crawled out hand – <<You want to give Bessie a
of the room – Momma began to hit her go?>> Grandpa said, leaning back
son‘s erect penis with a hair brush – slightly on his knees, penis limp – <<I
only fuck in my home.>> John replied
– the trio stood up and walked the pig
into the house – TJ had her mouth
around Bill‘s cock and Momma
continued to gyrate her hips and recite
her litany when Grandpa, Charlie, John
and the pig entered the room –
<<Look‘s like every one is keepin‘
busy in here!>> John shouted, with a
chuckle – Charlie and Grandpa
positioned the pig into another corner –
John knelt down, greased up his cock
and inserted it into Bessie‘s ass –
Tammy-Jo sat up so that Uncle Charlie
could place his cock between her

42
 hungry, what we got us to eat?>> John
said, shaking out the last drops of piss
from his cock –

THE END

“Like sex, violence and disease,

madness is part of the psyche. Myths
tell us this and so do dreams which
delight in crazing our everyday world
(studies of dreams show that the
majority of them are nightmares).
Imagination informs the soul by
deforming and transforming, spawning
monsters. We love monsters as much
breasts while she stroked Bill‘s cock – as we fear them. As we are taught less
Grandpa fell to his knees, hugging and about myths, where monsters rightly
kissing the side of Bessie‘s head – dwell, we become proportionately
outside Jim walked into the yard from more fascinated by human monsters”
the outhouse, naked, shit covering
hands, stomach and groin – he noticed Patrick Harpur “The Philosopher‟s
the dead sheep a short distance away, Secret Fire‟)
lying in a pool of blood, back torn
open – he approached the animal,
reaching deep into it‘s body to rip out
pieces of meat which he rubbed over
his chest and face – as his cock grew
hard again Jim collapsed onto the body
and wildly fucked the bullet wound,
blood and meat spraying his white skin
– inside things were coming to a close
as Momma screamed <<These are the
generations of Adam!>> and stood up
– Bobbie, cock limp, was exhausted –
Charlie came over Tammy-Jo‘s breasts
and as she bucked harder on Bill‘s face
he came over her hand while she
moaned loudly in orgasm – John fell
back from Bessie, coming over the
pig‘s rump – Jim appeared in the
doorway, body covered in shit, blood
and meat <<Hey Ma!>> – <<Look
what you done to yourself again!>>
Momma scolded <<Just get yourself
on the floor!>> – Jim laid down –
Momma stood over him and urinated
onto his stomach – Grandpa, John,
Charlie, Tammy-Jo and Bill stood up
and followed Momma‘s lead – <<I‘m

43
 suddenly ended on this summer‘s
DROWNING IN MY night.
OWN REFLECTION In daylight, we come across a boy,
perhaps 18 years old, with black hair,
Pink Narcissus, Erotic Artifice, and innocent classical beauty mixed with a
the Rescue from Obscurity budding sexuality. He lies naked in
A Conversation with James Bidgood the clearing, embracing the earth,
feeling and fondling the texture of the
By, Tom Garretson © grass plain, the vegetation that
All Photos © James Bidgood. Used surrounds him. A butterfly dances
by permission. across his belly, and flutters playfully
around him as the boy seems quizzical,
Through a clearing in a forest, in the amused. He begins a rhythmic
darkest night, we brush away the ferns thrusting of his pelvis, growing
and branches, making our journey stronger as he presses against the soil.
toward the moon hovering on the A vine creeps up along his leg,
horizon. The luminous disc looks tenderly at first, then gaining
down upon us, bright, omnipresent, as momentum. It embraces his leg, then
we begin to make out the image of a the thigh, and brushes against the boy‘s
snake lying on a rock. The forest penis, stroking his body. He is being
glitters with dew, as if a rainfall had raped by the earth.

44
These are just a few of the startling infamous Kenneth Anger, in a more
images appear on the screen in James mysterious lark?
Bidgood‘s cinematic would-be Nonetheless, Pink Narcissus retains
masterpiece, Pink Narcissus. and packs an aesthetic wallop like few
Originally credited to ―Anonymous‖, other films do. The original beauty
the publicly shown version is a and brilliance is still there, however
bastardized vision of James Bidgood‘s bastardized. Comparisons can be
original concept. Initially started in made, to Cocteau, Kenneth Anger, or
1964, the filming continued for seven even to Jean Genet‘s sole cinematic
years until the producer of the film, film, Un Chant d'Amore. But such
Sherpix, snatched the prints away from comparisons fall to the wayside when
its creator and promptly finished a you sit in the theatre and experience
butchered version, released without the the film itself. You become consumed
approval or participation of Bidgood. by a hypnotic world of Technicolor,
He has adamantly refused previous seduced by the erotic young men on
credit for the film, and for many years the screen, and are drawn into myriad
film critics and audiences alike layers of meaning and symbolism.
conjectured as to who this mysterious Never before – or since – has
―Anonymous‖ might be. Could it have independent film so brilliantly
been a famous Hollywood director, captured the experience of the gay
who could not reveal his identity for male ego, or portrayed youthful
fear of being outted? Was it the sexuality in such a startling, unique

45
manner. filmmakers, and artists of that era went
The elaborate Taschen monograph, to great lengths in artifice to titillate
James Bidgood, by Bruce Benderson, without displaying the male form in all
presents a retrospective look into the its brutal splendour. All in the sacred
work and life of this subculture genius, Church of Sex.
who many had thought to be dead,
forgotten or left far behind. The book James Bidgood functioned as a
contains pictures from early gay porn photographer, filmmaker, costume
magazines, such as Young Physique, designer, and drag queen in New York
Muscle Boy, and Big, when Bidgood City from 1951 and continues his
was known as Les Folles des Hommes. creative work to this day. His well-
This was a time when pornography, in deserved recognition after years of
all its biological glory, was outlawed, obscurity (many in personal tragedy) is
and clever devices were created to a testament to the enduring quality of
serve the stifled lust of the repressed his work, which has only become more
homosexual living a closeted life. As enticing with time. In fact, in the
strict Muslim religion forbids the present age of factory-made slick
pictorial representation of Allah or the pornography, full of buffed, muscled-
body, the resulting works of pumped bodies and unnaturally shaved
calligraphic wonder adorn the mosques assholes, looking back on gay erotica‘s
and buildings of those cultures. beginnings is almost blissfully
Similarly, since our culture has always refreshing. Yesterday‘s porn becomes
viewed the erect male organ as today‘s art.
threatening, the photographers,

46
Bidgood‘s work of the 1960s, as
displayed in the Taschen book, reveals TG: You used colour, glitter, material,
a world of carefully constructed textures, lighting and other devices to
scenarios, where painstaking attention create a mood, meaning and setting –
has been paid to every minute detail. most of it created in your living room
A look through this book is an and kitchen. Coming away from my
injection of speed into the vein of any initial viewing of Pink Narcissus, I felt
aesthete. It visually compels you to as though my senses had been
enter Bidgood‘s world of artifice. You assaulted by an erotic Walt Disney.
are not only seduced by the erotic
situations displayed – a naked JB: I‘m glad you feel that way. I‘ve
merman‘s romp underwater; a rough- always loved Walt Disney. I kind of
trade Parisian blonde posturing in front feel that way myself. I‘m glad you
of the artfully constructed Eiffel liked it – I would have been booing!
Tower, unbuttoning his tight jeans, (laughs) I don‘t think it‘s bad, it‘s not
which reveal the outline of a massive that awful. I was at that showing as
erection; and the White Guitar series, well (the New York Gay Film Festival
where another naked blonde poses with in 1983) it was the first time I looked
his guitar, looking slightly embarrassed at it objectively. I guess if I was
by the arranged houseplants that seeing it for the first time, I might be
surround him – but also by the somewhat impressed, especially
wonderfully playful world of knowing the circumstances. I did
masterfully arranged compositions, as some very nice stuff – I‘m a very hard
fastidiously construed as any painting. worker, I don‘t give up. A lot of

47
people do things arbitrarily, and put sequins, jewels, and beads. They did a
things into films, like vases and books television show, a once a year benefit
and stuff. Most everything I do in to raise money to keep the League
films, there‘s a reason for it. I thought running. Some of the costumes were
about it. I chose it as a metaphor for as big as the old Astor Ballroom floor.
something in the scene. Even when I That‘s where it took place. So there
design costumes, there‘s tons of was always a lot of yardage left over.
metaphors, even in the choices of As an example, an Eiffel Tower
fabric. Maybe no one will ever notice costume became part of the scenery in
these small things, but it‘s the way I do the ―Apache‖ series in the book. The
things. Tower in that series of pictures was

originally on a hat. It was folded up

TG: The painstaking attention to flat like a lantern, and it grew out of
detail in your photos, and especially in this huge hat brim up seven feet in the
the stills from Pink Narcissus, took air while they played the French
you weeks, if not months, to prepare. National anthem. A very large head
How did you manage, on virtually no piece! It was large enough so that I
budget, to create these elaborate, could use it as a scenic prop. That‘s
beautiful sets in your pictures? where I eventually got all my material
from. There‘s a snapshot of one
JB: When I was a designer I costumed League lady in the book with a big
spectacles for the Junior League. shell on her shoulders, and she‘s got
There were always fabrics left over – little octopi by her. The cape behind

48
her became the background for the the background, the moon does not
underwater series and a couple of other come and go out of the shot. Anything
things. It was so big it could cover my very far in the distance stays almost
front room wall. That‘s where most of put. The closer you get to everything
the glitter and glitz came from, and of else, the faster they move before the
course whenever I got any money I camera. This might be obvious to a lot
spent it on stuff. of people, but I had to think that
through. The moon stays put. To
TG: I‘ve read so many descriptions of contrive that, so that the foreground
other people‘s ideas of what Pink moved, in the space I had which was
Narcissus is supposed to be about, or very difficult, it ended up that the
the theme of the film in general. What camera and the cyclorama were
was your initial idea when you began, connected and the field scenes stayed
and was this changed underway? put. If I tried to move the field,
everything in the frame would be
JB: I don‘t usually go there, because shaking. The tripod and the
it‘s been so long ago. I‘ll have to stop background were connected by a two-
for a moment and think about what all by-four, and everything else stayed on
the metaphors were. There‘s a scene the table top. And I could only move
in it where there are white Oriental from my living room into the dinette!
Fowl, up in a gold branch. I read about I had to fit the sky and the camera in
Oriental fowl in an old National the doorway! It‘s amazing how with
Geographic, and they‘ve always the right lenses our perception of space
fascinated me since. They were all can be altered. That‘s an amazing
white, and were bred for these thing. You can fool the eye and the
incredibly long, white tails, they were mind, just like a magician does.
so beautiful. In order to keep them Camera lenses can do amazing things.
clean and so that no one would yank Sometimes you see a photograph of an
the tails out of them, they were chained apartment and it looks so incredibly
on top of these high perches. So, in a spacious, and then you go there and
sense, they were prisoners of their own it‘s no bigger than the little room I‘m
beauty. I thought that was a wonderful living in! It‘s just that they used wide-
metaphor for what he was – a very angle lenses.
beautiful boy who had found a way to
survive, by using his beauty. I found it TG: Your models were the youthful
was a very nice way to create a Adonis‘s of the times, with a look
metaphor for someone who was about them that recalls the street trade
encumbered by his great beauty. of a by-gone era. How did you choose
There‘s a lot of things like that in the your models? Were there specific
beauty – I‟ve forgotten what they qualities you looked for, or did they
meant! (laughs) appear by chance?

TG: The scene which opens the film, JB: It was more luck than choice. In
where the camera pans across a forest those days it wasn‘t like there were
opening, and we see the snake sitting many choices to make. I was lucky if
on the rock in the moonlight… there was anyone who stumbled
through my door who was willing to
JB: I had to figure out what Walt do my stuff. The other thing was, that
Disney had to figure out. When you I wasn‘t like a lot of the other
do a travelling shot, with the moon in photographers, where you dropped

49
your pants, I photographed you for an intervening years, but we‘ve both
hour, and then give you a blow job and changed enough that he wouldn‘t have
sent you on your way, which I think is recognized me and I wouldn‘t have
pretty much the way lot of them recognized him. I looked him up after
worked. Sometimes the guys were someone told me where he moved to,
there 24 hours, and sometimes they and called him up, and the next time he
moved in! Bobby (Kendall, whose came to New York, he stopped by for a
beauty was the feature role in Pink visit. We had lunch together and
Narcissus) ended up working on sets, reminisced, he told me what he was up
and being with me and working very to and the new love of his life, a
much together. It sometimes took me wonderful young woman who he‘s
eight hours just to do the make-up, been living with for a long time. You
because there were so many of them or know, they have a house together and
because I was so whacked out on live in the mid-west. That experience
speed! An eyebrow became the work he had with me was like if he had gone
of a lifetime! (laughs) to Mars for two or three years. It has
nothing to do with the rest of his life.
TG: Of course your audience
wonders, were you lovers with Bobby? TG: I‘m sure it must have influenced
him somehow?
JB: ―Lovers‖ is a big word. I loved
Bobby more like in a paternal way. He JB: No, he‘s the kind of person that
wasn‘t that young and I wasn‘t that could just leave and drop it. He‘s an
old, but I loved him. We did have sex. amazing young man, incredibly bright.
And he got married, got divorced, has He was from Jersey or somewhere, and
since been remarried – he‘s straight. he left home after his parents separated
Like a lot of straight men he‘s not that and came to New York. I don‘t think
nervous about his sexuality. Men who he was very happy, and as good
are the most nervous about being looking as he was, I don‘t think he
around fags are so because they have thought he was – he had a lot of
something to hide. You are what you inferiority complexes. He really didn‘t
masturbate about. Or when you have know he was attractive. I don‘t think
sex – I mean, a lot of men have sex girls paid much attention to him either.
with their wives and fantasize about He liked girls, but was terrified and in
Ava Gardner, Madonna, whoever! awe of them. His brothers, on the
Uma Thurman – hello? I myself am in other hand, made out like Faust, if you
love with Paul Rudd! know what I mean. I think that made
him even more insecure, like he
TG: I wonder if these boys, who have couldn‘t compete.
continued their lives down different
paths other than the in the public eye, TG: What does he think about his
have ever contacted you, now that a youth and beauty being immortalized
coffee table ―art book‖ so honorably now?
displays the glory of their youth?
JB: I asked him, and showed him the
JB: I was in contact with Bobby a proofs for the book. It‘s like he
year ago (1998). He works with a job doesn‘t even recognize himself. I said,
that takes him all around the country. ―You know you‘re a jerk-off fantasy
It turned out that we may have even for an awful lot of people even today.‖
passed on the street during the and he only laughed. By the way, he

50
talks and laughs like an idiot, but he‘s JB: Yeah, whatever! One guy
very, very bright! That only made him whipped out a huge knife and slapped
more charming. (laughs) He was one it on the table, right next to where his
of the sweetest men I‘ve ever known. dick was – I guess it was some sort of
Prettier inside even more than the size thing. I just saw the knife, and
outside. thought, ―Well, that‘s very nice, but we
have nothing to peel!‖ (laughs) ―Keep
TG: Certain writers have claimed that the dick out and put the knife away!‖
Kendall was a hustler and porn star. But a lot of sissies were really taken by
So many of your subjects look like this kind of stuff, when these guys
classic hustlers. would talk about their girlfriends, or
whip out a knife – to think you were
JB: He was hustling, but then he with this really threatening straight
wasn‟t hustling. He was on 42nd street, creature – well, that never amused me.
and someone I know picked him up, I‘d rather they‘d lisp than talk about
but Bobby was too nice or too their girlfriend. Or looked bored and
embarrassed to ask for money! He looked at their watch. I didn‘t go with
wasn‘t a very good hustler! He was many hustlers. Not that I have many
just too nice. His customers would say qualms about paying for sex or
stuff like, ―Oh, I‘m a little short anything, but they just didn‘t have the
today.‖ and he would just say right thing for sale.
something like, ―Don‘t let me put you
out – it‘s OK.‖ I don‘t think he hustled TG: Your work forged artistic vision
as much as he just found someone to with soft-core pornography. The
live with, some guy who was taking photos of Bruce MacNeill are the most
advantage of him, which I didn‘t do. I explicit in the book and the only ones
didn‘t do anything with Bobby that he which reveal an erection and full-
didn‘t enjoy or want to do himself. I frontal nudity. Were these previously
didn‘t want to take advantage of published?
anyone I photographed. I don‘t want
to say I‘m better than the others, and JB: I never thought of it as
actually I kind of regret not doing so pornography, but as erotica. One you
when I now look at the photos of the can masturbate to, and the other you
guys! I wish my manners hadn‘t been can‘t. I could never jerk-off looking at
so good! I tell you, I‘ve got black and my photographs! I find them
blue marks when I look at some of the stimulating, or titillating. I would
numbers I‘ve passed up! Some of never be able to jerk off to Playboy or
these guys were total whores, who Playgirl – Hustler I might. As soon as
were into anything and anyone, and things get too classy (and I‘m not
had done it with friends of mine who saying my stuff was classy), as soon as
would rave how fabulous these guys there are too many sequins, it‘s not
were. All they had to have was a interesting to jerk-off to. The girls in
certain look in their eye, and I would Playboy are so glossy that I can‘t
get all timid and decide not to trespass! understand how guys could jerk off to
Just take pictures! that stuff. The Bruce Mac Neill
pictures are a whole other thing. Even
TG: Ah, the true artist, offering then, I put Vaseline on the lens, did
himself and his lust selflessly for art… some strange things with the setting.
They were done at someone else's
apartment, a friend who asked me to

51
photograph him. I don‘t recognize that lovelies everywhere), and he‘d bring
linoleum on the floor! I brought a these people back. Sometimes he‘d be
mirror or two along, and the sweater out for four, five or six hours. He‘d
was mine. But even then, I wasn‘t just rustle them up from the village, ask
content of taking pictures of someone them if they‘d want to be in a film and
with a hard-on. I did some porno tell them they‘d have to take their
movies after Pink Narcissus – a couple pants off. Guns would drop out of
of loops. I found out at that time that their clothes! Funny, I was never
the money it cost to make them was worried about it. It was a very
less than what I received. I would different time, and even if you were
have done better doing covers for carrying a gun it was very different
Young Physique or something. I think since the head of most of these people
a lot of the people who did porno back were into the flower power thing.
then did it because it gave them access Everyone was very sweet and peaceful.
to sex. Alfred Hitchcock did some There really wasn‘t much violence in
loops because it was probably the only that scene. It was also a time when
way he could get boys. Today, it‘s all young people went against the current
a business. Back then, the people who social cycle. Society said to keep your
showed them, they had a business, but clothes on, so they felt it was only cool
the people who made them back then to take them off.
really didn‘t think of them as a I never had any problem with being
business. Falcon hadn‘t started back gay or liking men. I always thought
then, the Park Miller had just that I was right, and the world was
happened, the first all-male theatre had wrong. My feelings about nudity,
just started in Times Square. Later it genitalia, and sex are that they are god-
had become a famous discotheque. It made and beautiful like sunsets and
had been abandoned for years, but flowers. I very much resent television
when they first started using it again, it warning us with a little box against
was used for male pornos. It had adult language. God forbid we should
balconies, and was real beautiful hear ADULT language or see nudity.
theatre. Song of the Loon was an early ―Partial nudity‖ is my favourite. I
porno film that was supposed to be just have no idea what part that is. How
terrific, but I thought it was boring. It much can you show before it becomes
caused a little, teeny bit of a stir in the complete nudity? Is an elbow or a
gay community. That showed there for plumber‘s ass crack partial nudity?
about two weeks, and they had loops, And what about a baby‘s bottom? The
and sometimes a feature. It was one of whole thing is so fucking ridiculous.
the first places you could go to watch Years from now, when they look back
that kind of movie, before many of us on this country and our silly
had our own projector, or even before preoccupation with whether Mr.
video. I never went and asked people Clinton lied about getting a blow-job,
to be in my films, a friend of mine did whether people are nude on a beach,
that. For the Times Square scene (in whether we're going to go blind – how
Pink Narcissus), which originally is a silly will we seem? Why don‘t they
lot longer than what ended up in the grow up in this country? Fucking
film, we‘d have to get the set ready and Christian Fundamentalists – sometimes
paint up the main people. Meanwhile, I wish I could feed them ALL to the
my friend would go out (it was during lions! I like lions a lot better than I
the days of flower children and stuff, like them. And aren‘t they all
and there were a lot of wandering Republicans? I really have an intense

52
dislike for Republicans. If I were ever JB: Well, God bless the home that
asked what my favourite curse word is, person was raised in. I was born in
it would be ―Republicans‖ but Madison Wisconsin. I came to New
―dingleberry‖ runs a close second. I York at 17. All my life I‘ve wanted to
really don‘t think they should be come here. Ever since I was a little
allowed to get married or parent a kid, every time I‘d see those cityscapes
child. And heaven forbid if I in a cartoon with the little golden
discovered one of them was leading windows in them, that was such a
the neighbourhood local scout troop. I romantic thing to me. I use this in my
think the Christian right is the anti- work. I always wanted to go to a place
Christ. They have little or nothing to with those kinds of building.
do with what Christ was about. I think
if he had stayed in his grave he‘d be TG: The reason I ask about Genet, is
spinning in it. Religious the reference to his play, The Balcony
fundamentalism is still responsible for in your biography in the book.
deaths all over the world. What the
hell is wrong with looking at sex? It‘s JB: I wrote a porno film years ago
like gourmet cooking shows! That‘s based on that, and we only got one
what porno is to me! It‘s like looking scene done. Then they took that away
at a half-hour cooking show. It‘s an from me. The usual case, where they
appetite that needs to be appeased or promised me a Ziegfeld budget, but
fed, and that‘s all it is. That it‘s not didn‘t have enough for a Minsky‘s
just about pro-creativity, doesn‘t mean show, or even a carnival tab (tableau)
that it‘s not God intended. I‘m not show. I think more than Ziegfeld, so it
religious, but I believe in God. Where became another horrible, devastating
do these people come from that need to experience in my life. At one point
tell us what to think? I mean, it wasn‘t they actually threatened to kill me. It
that long ago that they thought the was very bizarre. It turned out that
earth was flat and that there were sea there was some sort of dark secret
monsters – and some of them still do! involved with the background of
You‘d have a hard time convincing everyone involved with the film, that
some of those people out there in the they actually had murdered someone. I
Mid-west that the world is indeed didn‘t ask too many questions, because
round! It‘s frightening to think that about things like this, the general rule
you can send a man to the moon and is the less you know the safer you are.
half the fucking planet is still living in But it was a nightmare. We got one
caves, mentally. Actually, cave men loop sort of done, and the night it was
were probably a little more advanced shot, I work with a story board, and the
than some of these born-again story board wasn‘t finished since
Christians. These are the people who everything had gone wrong with the
are beating gays with sticks that have production and I wound up having to
nails in them, and when they get do everything else. I didn‘t get it story
arrested they say, ―Well, we didn‘t boarded, and I have to have a plan to
think of them as people, it was sort of work. They brought in other people to
like beating a snake.‖ shoot, and one of them was a director
who had made a lot of porno for the
TG: God bless America, Mr. Park Miller. The producer did most of
President! the shooting for this thing, but I was so
paranoid about the whole thing, having
by this point had someone‘s hands

53
around my throat and shaking me, that window. By the time we got the set
I really didn‘t think I would be built and the costumes made, there was
involved in the film. It was like I was no more budget left! (laughs) The
pushed in a corner. It was supposed to bigger the space to work in the more
be based on The Balcony with all these you need. The more lights, the more
fantasy sex things going on in the electricity. In the rain and storm scene
various rooms. One of them was this in Pink Narcissus, for instance, we had
huge, elaborate Arabian Nights thing, to heat the water. Even though we
with this huge Genie all made out of heated it, in never stayed warm
jade, or painted to look like jade. He enough, so Bobby was always cold.
was bent over, spreading his cheeks, at And we needed heaters for the set so
you, and the arc that his legs made led the water wouldn‘t get cold. They
into this huge pool area, with elaborate promised us enough electricity, but as
screens with pink Vermeer on them, it turned out we couldn‘t heat the water
and his penis, out of his big gold cock AND use the smoke machines at the
red wine spouted out of it into the pool. same time. We couldn‘t have this light
There were gold penises all around the on if we had that light on. Another
edge of the pool with smoke coming nightmare. They didn‘t take what they
out of them, with heads kissing them, were doing as seriously as I did. I
it was very elaborate. And there was a would have been great in Hollywood
huge harem room, and a view of or any legitimate thing, but never got
Baghdad in the distance through the to get into any of that stuff. It‘s just

54
the way I think. It can‘t be or embarrass myself. It took me years
accomplished with the people I was to realize that I have a pretty good
associated with. Just try doing what mind. Going to college doesn‘t
I‘ve done in YOUR living room with necessarily mean you have a mind,
no professional help or funding. See though. However, a lot of the college
how far you get and how long it takes. graduates are rather dense.
I dare you.‖

TG: One could almost make Pink Narcisuss is one of the

comparisons to the poetic sensibilities most beautiful and expressive films
of Jean Genet to your work. made by any film artist, gay or straight.
It is a film many ―independent‖ gay
JB: I don‘t know how that could be filmmakers, such as Bruce La Bruce
because I‘ve never even read any could only hope to aspire to. It is the
Genet. I have very little education or victory of the visual image over the
formal training. I left high school spoken word, where the language of
before I graduated. I am bright and the tongue is replaced by the language
relatively informed, but when you have of poetic imagery. To watch this film,
that college degree you have a sense of however flawed in the editing as Mr.
security when you express yourself. Bidgood so avidly points out, the
I‘ve never had that, and I‘m always viewer is struck by the beauty and the
nervous before I express myself. I almost subconscious effect of what
never know if I‘ll find the right word appears on the screen. You can‘t help

55
but be swept away. recollection of the boys he‘d seen on
the street or wishful thinking about
TG: Can you comment on a few of boys he‘d wished he‘d seen. It got all
the pictures from the book, the shot of botched up. A mess. The devil was
the devil with the erection, it appears one of the ghost images that never
to be a collage, mirrored against itself? made it into the final version of the
film but I shot stills of him.
JB: It‘s composed of a lot of pictures I
didn‘t think were worth much on their TG: The boys who are in the Harem
own, so I put them together in a scene, who are painted in white body
collage. The devil is from the Times powder?
Square scene in the film. I tried to
illustrate all the fetishes I knew about
(which pretty much covers everything) JB: They were supposed to be the
represented. There were lots of them statues from a frieze in the previous
that never made it into the film. They shot. Of course, the men in the
were supposed to move through the drawing had huge muscles and the
scenes in slow motion. It took a lot of boys were little and skinny. We sort of
planning and choreography so that no had to make do. I also tried to project
two figures were occupying the same erotic images on the clouds in the back
space at the same time. The ghost background, but that didn‘t quite work.
images were supposed to be hustlers of I painted some in, but that didn‘t quite
the past and future – a john‘s work either. If I were doing the movie

56
now, all that would be done digitally find striking. It‘s a picture of Bobby
on a computer. I love it when there are Kendall, sitting nude and photographed
hidden things inside of things, like the from above, sitting with his legs
old picture of the farm and you are crossed. He‘s looking up above the
supposed to find pictures of animals in camera. His mirror image beneath
the trees and stuff. If you are choosing him, which looks like a scene of
a vase for a scene, the shape or the Narcissus looking at his image in the
design of the vase should say pool of water, is not a true reflection,
something about the scene. Whether but at first appears to be. His shadow,
anybody actually notices doesn‘t really or mirror image, is in fact looking right
matter. For one thing, it helps narrow at him.
down the choice of vases. I really like
every shot to be stuffed with hidden JB: It‘s funny, a friend of mine asked
metaphor. Mike Nichols calls them me for a print of that, and he thought
―the secrets.‖ For example, in The that Bobby was being reflected in a
Graduate, when they did Mrs. pool. It‘s a double exposure. When I
Robinson‘s wardrobe, there are always did it I moved the blue light to the
animal prints somewhere, because she other side, so that it looks like the same
was a predator. Even her panties were person, as opposed to how other people
zebra stripes, everything she wore had might have done it by just turning the
animal prints or fur, she‘s always got camera around, which would have put
animal on her.‖ the blue light on the wrong side. I
TG: There‘s another picture which I moved the light for the other exposure.

57
I did a lot of this stuff by matting the made everything myself. I did the
frame. I love that picture. There‘s a lighting, the costumes, the set up,
shot in the film of Bobby in front of everything myself. In some cases I
six or eight full length mirrors with had help. I even made a crane – in
baroque gold frames. I think I only reality a teeter-totter. I had people pile
had three baroque frames so the others on one end and press down in order to
were done with a matte and a double lift me up at the other end. But usually
exposure. I couldn‘t get people so I had to use
motors to do some of the work.
TG: What kind of camera did you use There‘s a view of flashing Broadway
for the stills? signs out a window. It was supposed
to be a tilt shot but I couldn‘t operate
JB: I was using 8 mm but it wasn‘t the camera because I had to switch
Super 8. Super 8 cameras at that time some of the signs on and off. So I ran
had plastic lenses, which weren‘t that a string from a motor to the camera so
good, but the format was larger. So I it would tilt up. I also had a fan on an
used regular 8 film, with a Bolex intermittent motor to blow the curtains.
camera, with turret lenses, with three What was I doing? Sometimes I
lenses or more, with Zeiss lenses, I wonder about myself. I can‘t imagine
think that‘s what they were called. A anybody else doing all that shit, but I
sharper image on a smaller format is did – I‘m so driven.
better than an out of focus image on a
larger format. For the stills I used a TG: There seems to be no urgency to
Rollicord and a Roliflex, and I had a 4 impress in your work, no need to
x 5 sports camera. I never went to convince. You seem to delight in your
school for photography, so I didn‘t self-created world of sexual illusion
know anything about any of this stuff. and beauty. Can you tell us something
I learned it all as I went along. It never about your autobiography?
seemed like it should be that
complicated, and never is. You have a JB: I wrote a screenplay based on my
little thing that computes the light for life. Everything in it is true, things
you, and once you learn to do that, it‘s I‘ve observed or done. And I have had
pretty easy. Colour photography is an interesting life. And of all the
about setting everything up in the right professions fags usually do – I wasn‘t a
way, if you light it right. Lighting is hairdresser, I wasn‘t a make up artist,
photography. Once you got the but I was a costume designer. I did so
painting ready, all you had to do is to many things, like the physique
click the shutter. In short, I did the photography, I did an awful lot of stuff
lighting, the costumes, the set up, that fags do. And being a drag queen.
everything myself. In some cases I So I did this screenplay about my life,
had help. and it‘s not blowing smoke up my ass,
but I decided to do an oral version of
TG: You have a keen sense of it. It‘s like listening to a radio
composition in your pictures. program, sort of. It has 30 or so actors
in it, with sound effects. It‘s called
JB: I had drawn all my life, and I had Fag: The Pretty Good Life of Jimmy
been to art school. So I pretty much Bundle.

58
 Pink Narcissus is currently available on DVD. The special edition Tashcen
monograph, James Bidgood will be available in April, 2009. It‟s high time for that
reflected image in Bidgood‟s pool to be realized, and drowning in it has never
promised to be more delicious.

59
 DOLL barbie is getting cocky now. watching
ken with the boys. jesus what a dork,
how could i even have thought about it
by Claudia Bellocq she gasps, heady, breathless, coquettish
and still plastic. turns to the girls and
goes shoe shopping and dressing up in
pink frills and feather trim. home.

barbie knows ken could hurt her

ken knows barbie could kill him.

barbie is becoming animated. her

plastic is getting a life of its own these
days. she likes how it feels and doesn't
want to go back to plastic a-go-go
land.

ken is waking up and wonders if sleep

was more comfortable. feel. feel. feel.
where's my grenades he wonders
realising there's a dick starting to grow
where the plastic space was.

(IMAGE © Sue Fox) barbies panties are no longer the flat

white asexual cover they once were.
I barbie tries to hide her cunt.

dead eyes barbie doll lolling over to ken has seen it. plastic to plastic
the left of you. vacant stare as her little becoming heart to heart.
plastic cunt yearns for kens cock. once
she dreamed of skin, of flesh, of eyes barbie wants to run and ken shouts
that moved and saw things. then she "fuck off then...go!"
remembered she was plastic. dead eyes
barbie doll. ken wants to back off and barbie
shouts "yeah right, been there done
ripple muscle ken watches dead eyes that, dick face"
barbie and imagines fucking her hard
up her pink plastic cunt. hey doll...how "dick face? wow! I've got a dick"
you doin' baby....then he remembers he preens ken proudly.
has no cock, only a space where it
should have been and he weeps and barbie loves ken
curses mattel™ as hard as a silent
plastic man doll can. ken loves Barbie

barbie is a slut he says. whatever. they become human and squeeze

never wanted her anyway. gets his themselves uncomfortably into their
camouflage on and gets down with the new form
boys in all manner of action poses. hoping.
home. II

60
barbie: "ken, you know you want me ken looking at brand new barbie model
baby" without detachable belly.

ken: "whatever barb" ken and barbie get it on

football results on in background. fuck fuck fuck. oooh baby. ooh doll.
barbie pacing. plastic heels killing her. no cum. no cum
plastic toes permanently on end. plastic
cunt permanently dry. shit, forgot you couldn't cum. no baby.

barbie: "baby....I'm melting here. barbie leaves ken

hungry for you honey. come to bed
ken." ken weeps.

ken: "yeah sweetness...soon" - back to Bratz....

football.

disco music on in background.

bedroom pink; too pink. thinks 'jesus,
gimme a bratz anyday, no edge to this
bitch, but I guess one plastic cunt is as
good as another'.

ken: "yeah baby, keep it hot for me

honey, on my way".

their first time. should be fucking

amazing. should be all blow out and
punctures. should deflate plastic.
leaves them cold. kens cock shrinking
when he's only just got it. barbies cunt
fading to grey/white space again.

barbie: "ken honey, you wanna make a

baby?"

ken: silence

barbie: "ken honey, you wanna make a

baby honey? you hear me? saw a new
version of myself last week. detachable
belly. brand new home. nappies.
buggy. breast feeding chair. bottle for
baby. sopping wet nipple pads. bloody
sanitary towels. screaming insanity. no
sleep.

61
 BACK IN LOVE FIELD

By Steven Severin

Except the Lord, keep this city

the watchman waketh but in vain
Alert, alert
look well at the rainbow
Chico is in the house
visit him (take the Lord with you)
The sky is blue
place the notice in the tree
a tree is green & brown
Chico, have the letters arrived?
the letters that are white
like the tree that is green & brown
the fish will rise soon
(praise be to Allah!)
the fish that is in the throat of the senorita
Chico visit the sky
raise the rainbow of the uproar
Bursts out, grows,
Sound of octave
Subsides, rises the One sound
tumult and timidly rolls,
sirens and moan:
"Announcing alarm city of love”
press the letters to her breast (letters that are
white)
Wake the Lord, break the fish
the tree inside our senorita
feel the blue Lord in the sky house
Alert the fish inside the rising breast
Senorita (suck) place the city of vain
under the cock of the fish

(some of these words were the code words used during the
Bay of Pigs fiasco, Chico still sits, waiting for
his radio to stop transmitting) …….

62
 white movie with no real plot and no
astounding outcomes.

The smell in the air is like rotten

cabbage, it comes from a factory down
the street that brews beer though no
one in town would drink it for the
awful familiar smell that plagues the
city streets. "Only the tourists would
drink that crap." Dustin thinks to
herself as the smoke from the chimney
of the factory belches out into the
depressed sky.

Crouched against a brick wall, Dustin

stands to her feet and dusts herself off.
Her coat is black and heavy, something
she had seen a sailor wearing when he
came to town on shore leave. Dustin
decided she wanted the coat, so she
DEATH WISH slept with the sailor and took off with
the coat before he woke up. It was
CHAMELEON once stylish and clean. Now it is
Part One somewhat tattered and stained. But it
keeps her warm and it's familiar.
By Cricket Corleone Under the coat is a simple stripped
gray and black sweater, another thing
"Attempt number... hell, I have she stole years back from a thrift shop,
forgotten what number I am up to. a pair of men's jeans she took from a
Does it even really matter? It past lover, and black boots tucked
obviously didn't work... again." Dustin away under the bottom folds of her
pulls out a notebook from her coat jeans. The boots are the only thing
pocket. In one hand a pen, the other a she's wearing that truly belongs to her.
notebook. Dangling from her full lips Her hair is shoulder length and dark
is a cashed out cigarette. Dustin flips brown, it matches her eyes, eyes that
through the pages of her notebook until look as though they are open, even
she reaches a list of names. The names when she sleeps.
in the book are names of men, first and
last names and next to those are At the public library down the street,
addresses. All the names are crossed Dustin spends some of her time
out except for one. Dustin goes down looking for freelanced work and
the list until she reaches the last name checking the local website that lists
on it, she crosses the name out. After convicted sex offenders in her area.
putting the notebook back into her coat She writes down the addresses of the
pocket Dustin scans the area around criminals in her notebook and tucks it
her. It's a city sidewalk, outside her away. There is always a new addition
favorite book store, on a busy street. to the list each day as there is always
It's day time but everything seems some criminal being released from the
shadowed by overcast. Life today state prison. The list also provides the
seems like a really low grade black and extents and extremes of each convicted

63
sex offenders crimes with colored victimizing them in some way. So to
boxes next to their names. Yellow Dustin, he was perfect.
means their crimes were not
considered as extreme. Green means Dustin isn't stupid. She knows exactly
their crimes were a little more extreme what she is doing. Her agenda has been
then most. Red means they are among the same for over a year now. A few
some of the worst offenders. Dustin is years back, after an attempt at suicide,
only interested in the red boxes. Dustin realized she didn't have it in her
to kill herself. So over time she got
The online local newspaper lists in the into things like mutilation. Once again
back pages every sex industry job in realizing that it just wasn't going to
the market. Strippers, models, porn work for her she set out in search of
sites, escorting, dominatrix positions... men that were into extreme acts of
everything is there. Dustin reads violence. Most of what she
through the job descriptions and encountered were men with violent
criteria. When she comes across jobs sexual fetishes. But no one was ever
that offer the least information she willing to take it far enough for her.
writes down the contact numbers. She wasn't in it for the thrill, Dustin
Later at her apartment she calls the wanted them to kill her.
numbers and only takes more interest
in the jobs if they seem shadier than To some this may seem like an easy
the others. Once she thinks she has thing to find, but as they sometimes
say, when you are looking for
something you very rarely find it, until
you stop looking. Dustin's
determination became an obsession.
Realizing that she seemed death proof
in a way, she continues to search about
until somebody comes around with the
nerve enough to prove her wrong. So
she searches online websites for
dangerous criminals that have been
released, seeks them out, and attempt
to try and provoke them according to
whatever their crimes were. In her
mind, sex criminals were the way to
go. Dustin isn't the most attractive
found one that sounds like it has women in the world but she knows
potential, she agrees to meet up for an how to form herself into exactly what
in person interview with the person on men want... most of the time anyway.
the other end. She doesn't bring a If she fails she goes to the next name
driver or a friend. She leaves no clues on the list. In her mind, the only real
as to where she is going. She brings no failure is that she is still alive.
form of protection. Dustin sets out to
meet a man she has only spoken to on Another way that she goes about her
the phone for about five minutes. He death search is to take seedy jobs that
sounded creepy and potentially could potentially be dangerous.
dangerous. One of the types that posts Whatever the other girls stay away
ads to lure women in only to end up from is what Dustin walks right up to.
In fact, if the devil himself were ten

64
feet away from her, while the others Playing off the wife, now a ticking
whimpered and ran, she would walk up time bomb, Dustin places herself right
smiling, look him right in the eye and in the bulls eye and pushes
say, "It must be terrible to be second psychologically until someone cracks.
best." And if the devil wrapped his Either the husband will do something
hands around her throat, even if his rash to protect his reputation, or the
touch burned through her flesh and wife will act out from years of her
caused tears to stream down, she husbands demeaning excuses and the
mockery he has made of their
marriage.

The plan had almost worked but Scott's

wife turned out to be smarter than
given credit for. After holding Dustin
at gunpoint in a sleazy hotel room,
which Dustin had set up to look like a
meeting place for her and Scott that
night, the wife slowly started to see
what was really going on. Instead of
shooting Dustin herself, she gave the
gun to Dustin and told her coldly "Do
it yourself." When the wife turned her
back on Dustin and walked out the
would keep smiling all the way to hell. door, Dustin was left alone with the
Among some of her failed attempts at gun to her head. She once again
being murdered, are men she had had couldn't pull the trigger, so instead, in
affairs with in the past. It wasn't the a fit of rage, she tore apart the hotel
men in those cases that she was going room which just landed her in jail with
for though, it was their wives. For a hefty fine. Once again, her plan had
example, in her trusty notebook, page failed. But it wasn't enough to stop her
five, name number seventy three. The mission.
man's name is Scott Wells, he is forty Present day, notebook in pocket, death
six years old and lives with his wife of wish still in mind, Dustin goes about
twenty years. They have kids that are her regular routine of finding a killer.
grown and starting families of their Only today, she will meet someone for
own. Upper class married types, good the first time that will change
reputations in their communities, tons everything.
of secrets. Scott has an addiction to
prostitutes and internet pornography. (to be continued…)
Dustin, having a keen eye for these
types meets Scott after a few sessions
through instant messaging. What starts All images © Richard A Meade
as just sex eventually ends up
becoming like therapy for Scott who
eventually comes clean about his
immense hatred of his life as it has “When she walks through your
turned out. Dustin sees an opportunity. bedrooms carrying butcher knives,
Scott's wife has been aware of his you‟ll know the truth”
indiscretions for some time though
silently it tortures and angers her. (Squeaky Fromme)

65
 THE FROG MAN don‘t know what he did before, he was
a complete enigma. He looked like a
bit of a tramp, a derelict, wore this
By Paul Stephens
really dirty raincoat with a bit of rope
round it, but he spoke quite posh. They
We used to go to the river when I was
called him frog man of course before it
a kid, we‘d play the usual sorts of
all happened, he was really pale, bald
games I suppose, the girls would egg
and with these bulging eyes, used to sit
the lads on to go in to the river and
by the riverside for hours sticking his
swim across to the back of Griffiths
tongue out at the kids who were
house, and everyone would shout
playing down there, they used to shout
―There‘s the frog man! He‘s going to
―Frog Man‖ at him and he‘s shout back
get you‖, and they‘d scream and go
―Frog spawn!‖ and the kids all used to
back in the water and swim straight
say he had a long green tongue, and
back. I mean he‘d been gone for years
that he used to catch flies with it. And
by the time I was going there, this was
it was all a bit of a laugh, they just
years later, but we were still well
thought he was eccentric, certainly
scared down there.
didn‘t seem to worry anyone, and then
one day he seemed to disappear, and
Griffiths had lived there I suppose
about a fortnight later that‘s when they
from when I was a baby, or a bit before
found John Hutchinson and it all just
to when I was 2 or 3. I vaguely
went mad.
remember when we had to go and stay
at my Grans for a bit, when it all came
John had been missing for a couple of
to light, and police and the press and
days, last seen leaving school, no one
every fucking ghoul in the north west
knew he was going to the river, I don‘t
was all over the area. I remember a
think they‘d looked there until he was
kind of a pall that hung over my early
found. He was alive when they fished
days at school as well, like someone
him out, what was left of him was
trying to hide that your mum or your
swimming downstream, just a head,
dog had died. I remember they fenced
pale as fuck like he was dead, and this
off that part of the river for about 5
slimy tail like a fish stuck on the back
years or so. And at school as well, we
of it where his hair would have been,
never knew what had happened really
all writhing around, struggling. He
so we used to make up stories that
couldn‘t speak, but he looked in proper
Griffiths was a frog and he‘d turned all
pain. They took him to Stepping Hill,
these kids into frogs and that was
but he got weak and died within hours.
fucking ironic because it was fairly
The police went in Bill Griffiths house,
close to the truth. You‘re asking me if I
said was like a fucking riverbed in
knew what had happened at that age, I
there. Everywhere was damp as fuck,
suppose we must have pieced it
there was no furniture, but all moss up
together from hearsay, people picking
the walls, and loads of damp leaves
things up from their parents or older
and grass on the floor. I think he only
brothers and sisters, I remember
used one room, the rest of the place
reading about properly it when I was
was completely empty. He‘d gone,
11 or so, and it freaked the fuck out of
anyway.. he was never seen again, no
me it really did.
record of him anywhere either, might
not have been his real name, then they
Everyone thought that Bill Griffiths
found the others.
was retired, he was about 60 or so
when he moved in to that house. I

66
 There were four of them, Kirsty LYDIA‟S DAYDREAM
Orham, Peter someone, I can‘t
remember the other names, but they
By Hank Kirton
just found their faces encased in this
weird transparent mucus, on the
BLACKTHORNE, CALIFORNIA:
shallow bit of the river bed near the
June 27, 1969
house. Now officially, they were
removed to the hospital, and they were
The rumours and gossip arrived in
all found to be dead, and that‘s fucking
Briarpatch ahead of the event - a
freaky enough right but that‘s not all of
perpetually shifting whirlwind of
it, it‘s fucking grim. Years later I was
impossible stories and extraordinary
seeing Kirstys sister Jan for a bit and
reports that began to coalesce into one
she told me that the family had found
dark, supernatural myth.
out what had happened years later, in
―Joni Nobody is coming!‖ and that‘s
1985 one of the doctors from Stepping
all you had to say to kick-start nervous
Hill had got in touch with the family
imaginations - especially with all the
on the quiet, and said what had really
ingenious drugs around.
happened. They‘d taken the four kids
Lydia was working in the garden.
straight to the hospital, they were still
Lydia was nineteen, Aquarius, and so
alive, moving about in this stuff like
pretty and fragile in both appearance
they were trying to struggle out, and
and character that the others in the
they‘d cut through the stuff on a couple
commune nicknamed her ―Gossamer.‖
of them to get them out and they had
She tilted toward the sun and filled her
just faded and died. Then this
face with heat and light, collecting it
consultant, said to put the one with
like a saucer in the rain. The light
Kirsty in, in some water, so they put
seeped into her pores, making her skull
her in this tank in an isolated ward and
glow and vibrate with warm orange
she seemed to stabilise. They kept her
energy, opening her delicate
like that for about 2 weeks, putting
expression like a flower. The electric
stuff like algae and nutrients into the
orange juice she‘d had for breakfast
water. She looked in pain, confused
was coming on. Her spine was alive.
and couldn‘t speak or anything. The
She bent down and began weeding the
little tail on the back of her head
cucumber patch, moving through the
started to grow and the mucus around
soft mounds of soil. The earth felt like
her started to dissolve until she was
deep rich everything under her hands.
actually swimming around the tank,
She recounted some of the testimony
she still looked terrified though. Then
she‘d heard about Joni Nobody from
after about a month or so the tail
the other members of the Briarpatch
started to shrink again and she started
commune:
to grow little arms and legs, like a
babys, and come to the surface to
JOHNNY RED: ―She can heal you
breathe, but then she died, she would
with sex. She cured cancer with her
have been about 8 or so. No, I‘ve not
climax once. No lie. She‘s real
seen Jan for years, my mum sees hers
selective though. She won‘t fuck just
occasionally, she‘s bad nerves, she‘s
anyone with a fatal disease. You gotta
been on pills for years apparently,
be WORTHY. You gotta EARN it.
that‘s Stockport for you.
Don‘t ask me how...‖
―Oh, wow.‖

67
CHERRY BOP: ―She can hypnotize weeks. She spent whole days outside,
cats and pose them like dolls. Once she sucking on flowers and buzzing...‖
recreated The Last Supper with a litter ―Oh, wow.‖
of kittens. People came from all over
to see it. Allen Ginsberg and a couple CHEMICAL JITTERS: ―She has a
of the Fugs even showed up to take two-year-old daughter named Isabel.
pictures! It‘s supposed to be their next Man, Isabel took more acid in the
album cover...‖ womb than Leary could take for the
―Oh. Wow.‖ rest of his life, man. The kid has black,
anti-matter eyes. You can see your
MOONBEAM: ―She took so much deepest, most primal nightmares in her
LSD when she was pregnant that one gaze. One guy stared at her for too
ounce of her breast-milk contained long and went insane, man. Couldn‘t
1300 micro-grams. They tried to sell it deal with the black cosmic UTTER she
on the street but word got around it laid on him with those far-out peepers
of hers. He gouged out his own eyes
with a pen-knife. They had to lock him
up for his own safety. I think his name
is Walter...‖

―Oh! Wow!‖
Lydia looked down and noticed she
was up to her knees in dirt. She‘d been
sinking into the garden, as if she‘d
wandered into unhurried quicksand. Or
maybe she grew out of the earth like a
burgeoning Brussels sprout and her
entire life had merely been the long,
longing dream of a seed.
Then she realized she was kneeling.
She laughed and soft butterflies flew
from her mouth, turning to invisible
wisps of vapour in the hot air. She
stood up.
There was a van parked beside the
was a bad trip. You really don‘t want house and the other members of
Joni Nobody‘s milk frothing around in Briarpatch had gathered around it.
your head. That‘s a heavy fucking trip Someone was here. Joni Nobody was
for anyone to handle...‖ here. Lydia clapped the dirt from her
―Wow.‖ hands and left the garden.
The van was big and intimidating; a
DR. TOPHAT: ―I heard she raises bees 19th century eccentric‘s dream of the
on acid. Like, gets the acid to mix with future. It looked as if it had just
the apitoxin venom in their stingers, ploughed through a wet, fluorescent
y‘dig? They hone-in on her rainbow.
pheromones and lay stings right into Lydia approached the others as if
her veins. She tripped on bee-sting acid sneaking up on them. She felt
for, like, a month. Really got inside the apprehensive. The bizarre reports
insect mind-set, y‘dig? A real bee-hive about Joni Nobody and her daughter
high. Nobody could talk to her for shuffled through her mind like Tarot

68
cards embossed with bothersome parted in the middle. She wore only a
dreams. worn, white satin slip. Her feet were
Lydia was not a sceptic. She believed bare. She smiled at Lydia. Her teeth
things. were yellow, her eye-teeth as large and
The garden hose she used had a tiny, long as fangs. ―Hello, Gossamer,‖ she
leaking puncture-wound and Lydia said in a voice like warm milk.
paused to admire the mud puddle it had Lydia said ―Hi.‖ The word came out
created. like a squeaky cabinet hinge.
Her watery reflection was an Joni Nobody‘s eyes were large and
undulating, sky-cast negative that sent dark and Lydia could feel them poring
a shivering, haunted transmission over the contents of her brain. She
along her spine and full-blown FEAR tried to free her hand but Joni Nobody
suddenly grabbed her abdomen. held firm, smiling with her yellow
Her reflection was not herself. It was fangs, searching through Lydia‘s
an evil opposite. She turned her eyes to secrets with her black, X-ray eyes.
Lydia finally managed to yank her
hand loose, emitting a panicked little
gasp. She looked down at her palm
expecting to see some black, unhealthy
residue there.
The other members of Briarpatch
laughed.
Johnny-Red said, ―Gossamer, why
don‘t you show Joni and Isabel inside
so they can get cleaned up. They drove
all the way from Seattle...‖
Lydia turned. ―Isabel?‖ she said.
―My daughter.‖
Lydia turned back and a miniature
replica of Joni Nobody stepped out
from behind her, like a dividing cell.
the bright blue sky and stepped over Lydia almost screamed.
the puddle. Instead, she said, ―Hi,‖ keeping her
Lydia was not a sceptic. She believed gaze away from the child‘s eyes.
in signs, omens, visions, whatever. ―Follow me.‖ She led them toward the
They were secret messages woven into house, so self-consciously AWARE
the fabric of life by invisible hands. that she was being watched and
This vision may have been borne of a followed that she felt as if she were
mud-puddle, but its meaning was walking on difficult stilts.
crystal clear: Joni Nobody was She held the door for them. They went
bringing bad magic into Briarpatch. An inside.
ill-wind had just blown into their In the kitchen, Lydia finally worked up
home. the nerve to face her guests. Joni
Johnny-Red said, ―Hey Gossamer! Nobody and her daughter were staring
C‘mere and meet Joni Nobody!‖ at her. Joni wore a gentle smile;
Lydia smiled, nodded and said, ―Okay! Isabel‘s expression was void. The
Hi!‖ She stepped forward and extended silence was thick and oppressive in the
a friendly hand. room.
The woman who received it was small ―Do you know how long you‘re
and pale; her long hair was black and staying?‖ Lydia asked.

69
 ―We just need to slow down and rest die. Without fear there is no life,
for a couple days. We‘ve been running without life there is no love...‖
for weeks.‖ Lydia nodded as if she understood.
Lydia knew what she was talking ―Okay.‖
about. ―I need to feed my daughter.‖
Lydia said, ―Okay, we have salad,
CHEMICAL JITTERS: ―You fresh bread and...‖
remember that weird comedian who But they weren‘t interested in Lydia‘s
used to say, `Farckbuckle in the Hoo- menu. Isabel turned and tilted her face
hah?‘ He used to go on Ed Sullivan. up toward her mother. She opened her
mouth in a wide, grotesque yawn. Joni
Nobody leaned over until her own
open mouth hovered above her
daughter‘s. Joni‘s throat began to swell
and contract and deep guttural gulps
pulsated like a muffled drum.
Lydia covered her mouth with her
hand.
Thick strands of milky yellow slime
emerged from Joni‘s throat and oozed
into Isabel‘s hungry mouth.
The guy with the big eyebrows? The high-pitched buzzing rose in tone,
‗Farckbuckle in the Hoo-hah!‘ velocity and volume. Bees! Lydia
Anyway, a bunch of Russell‘s girls realized. It was the piercing buzz of a
were crashing at his pad, feeding him a billion bees.
line of bullshit, among other things. After Isabel had taken a few swallows,
Word has it Joni Nobody got him they turned toward Lydia, mouths still
started on a real heavy death trip. He connected with webs of yellow bile,
decided to drop some acid and and Lydia finally looked into Isabel‘s
belladonna and check out, like blow eyes.
his mind for real. They say he was They had grown huge and black. She
balling her and when he started to had bee‘s eyes. Each bulbous black
come, he stuck a gun in his ear and honeycomb was filled with thousands
blew his brains out. Farckbuckle in the of dark pockets, each containing a tiny
Hoo-hah! No fucking shit!‖ galaxy.
―Why are you afraid of us?‖ Joni Lydia found herself staring into
Nobody said. infinity. Her limbs began to dissolve.
Lydia blushed and smiled and said, She dropped to her knees, unable to
―I‘m not.‖ break her gaze from the child‘s
―Yes you are. We can tell.‖ impossible eyes.
Lydia shook her head. A black yet They moved toward her, the milky
colorful aura surrounded mother and strands gently oscillating between
daughter like an oil-slick halo. A high- them. Lydia felt hypnotized and unable
pitched buzzing filled the air. She felt to stop herself from reaching out her
the world slipping out of control. ―No, tongue and taking the bilious webbing
really. I‘m not,‖ she said and then into her mouth.
wondered if she‘d spoken English. It was warm and tingled and tasted like
―It‘s okay. Fear is natural, like love. semen.
We‘re afraid to be born, we‘re afraid to And then the universe collapsed.

70
DR. TOPHAT: ―Russell‘s women
were ordered to have as many children
as they could. He was trying to breed
his own army or some shit. A lot of
chicks came into the fold with kids
already. So they set up a little day-care
centre, a little nursery school in an old,
broken-down bus. Joni Nobody‘s kid
spent ten minutes – if that – on that
bus. The other children wouldn‘t stop
screaming until she left. There was no
reasoning with them. They saw
something in that girl that they just
couldn‘t deal with.‖

“Those processes by which we make

intellectual assumptions about which
social systems have been engaged to
produce the universal phenomenon
of the monster are the same process
Lydia sat by the window. Johnny-Red
through which we understand
held out a cup of tea. She wouldn‘t
conflicted societies. The relationship
take it. She hadn‘t eaten in five days.
between man and monster, then, is
Hadn‘t spoken either. The pigs had
the ultimate metaphor of intractable
descended on Briarpatch about one
social conflict. It is not coincidental
hour after Joni Nobody‘s arrival and
that the archaeological record shows
raided the place. They all spent the
evidence of simultaneously
night in jail. Everyone except Joni
burgeoning beliefs in monsters and
Nobody and Isabel were released the
the earliest developments of weapons
next day.
of war. Be it ancient myth, mystical
―Gossamer, you have to eat something
creature or ordinary human gone
or you‘re gonna starve. Gossamer?
insane, theemergence into the social
Baby, if you don‘t snap out of this
repertoire ofthat which we call
we‘re gonna have to take you to a
monstrous is brilliantly teleological.
hospital. You don‘t want that, do
Indeed the beauty of the monster is
you?‖
that it is a product of free will.”
Lydia continued to stare out the
window and daydream.
(Cary Morrison „Creature Conflict;
Man, Monster and the Metaphor of
Intractable Social Conflict‟)

71
 TRANSGRESSIVE edges of it? Tasting it on the tip of
your tongue even? Do we all have
death urges? How do they come out in
By Sue Fox
us? Smoking, drinking, driving fast,
fucking strangers, sky-diving, being
Monday 25th August 2008
friends with murderers?
Will I put up with anyone and anything
How come I seem to want to be with
just for sex? To feed my cunt?
the destructive types? Why am I not
with the creative, intelligent and
I‘ve slept with swingers and porn stars
ethical men? They just lack drive and
and criminals and rapists, and courted
energy and guts. And bore the pants
cold-blooded killers. Am I a collector
off me.
of extreme sexual experiences?
I like the dark, unsavoury hell being
So, I am thinking about the type of
that has lived a life in the full force of
men I attract – very aggressive/hyper
seeming vacuosity, but has hidden
sensitive types! When a
layers of stories to unfold that would
DJ/photographer called Faxx contacted
burn the heart and mind in two! I want
me, with hoards of his nature pictures,
to share the intensity and depth of
I just thought, no, too tame for me. I
feeling that someone rare has to tell. I
need a relationship that bites, not one
don‘t want it to be any normal story. I
that sucks! I like the taste of passion
want something different, pure and
and conflict – the bizarre, the off-beat,
profound. I want the resonance of the
the taboo, and the feared! I want to be
original, the paranormal, the occult,
interested in another life, not bored
and the unfettered mind to diversify
fuckless – I want to be excited to fuck.
my ideas and sense of my self!
What excites me? What turns me on?
The unknown, the heightened, the feel
My demons are always ever present in
of being alive and taking risks?
me……..cajoling me into the
Terror? Fear? Excitement? Dick!
‗dare‘…….seeking the purest animal
drive with a hint of mild intelligence!
My gay poet mate Richard was on the
I am in dangerous territory, and I have
motorway with a stranger driving at
not an ounce of fear or trepidation in
over 120 miles an hour sucking his
me. I feel invincible. I feel
cock. It got him off like nothing else.
impermeable. I feel impenetrable. I
What a grand appearance he would
feel youth renewed.
make in Cronenberg‘s film ‗Crash‘!
They didn‘t even go that far. Imagine,
Maybe Paul is in rehab? Mikey told
documenting and filming your own
me to stop giving out and get my
fantasies? Imagine filming what you
boundaries re-asserted. I will re-
fear? Filming what you desire?
charge in the Lakes and get centred for
a few days. I have no real idea about
Paul was telling me that he has a big
Paul‘s life, plans and motivations.
hard-on when he is on his fire-blade
Except that he is in a dark place. He
motor bike doing 200 mph. Nothing
could have a whole agenda with his ex
should be worth dying for but if you
and his future and his 50k and I am not
are living, then is it only natural that
even involved in anything, why wait?
you think of dying? Or explore the
My head feels like Labrynthitis has set
fringes of possibilities? Maybe you
in. I know I have taken too much shit
might hint at it? Licking around the

72
in and gotten totally mashed by it – And they want to carouse on my flesh
and there is no space for me in my and then stamp me out with baked
head so I get dizzy. I need to forget for black ego shoes. They are all large and
a bit. Forget everything. Find myself. beast-like, some have cross eyes and
some have grotesque pregnant bellies.
I am a junkie for interactions, Their voices coil in, like vipers
happenings, dramas, stimuli, sucking, and then they come out at me
connections, feelings, and all loud and in mid-sentence, and I do
ideas…………………..I am catching not know what they are saying, it has
them all the time like butterflies and no context or sense. It is all about
eagerly devouring them. Without lusting and owning and piercing the air
drama, there is no life. Without with the exploits of ‗them‘.
people, there is nothing!
I have been in a super relaxed and
I am back in to being alone again and loving mode and particularly loving of
feeling some relief, some dropping me. I am luxuriating in my radiance
down of my shoulders! I am still and sexual aura. I have ‗come‘ twice
tightly wound up though, slightly today. Self pleasure is always
waiting, and apprehensive for contact, fulfilling and gratifying. It is like
for conflict, and for complication. some ritualistic offering or prayer to
the corporeal. It is a celebration. Is it
Wednesday 14th January 2009 habit? We all have regular habits in
our life we need, like eating. It feels so
good to do, and never bores me. It
occurs to me that orgasm is about
sensation but it can also coincide with
raw emotion. I am aware of this large
wave of intuitive reverie of myself that
wants to unleash tears and is quite
overcome. It rises and falls and I
wonder where I can take it to. Joy
abounds in the body! You get lost in
this sea of arousal, wandering, tip-
toeing around, chasing things and
forgetting what they were and where
you are. I stay in the pleasurable
sensation stage for ages, clueless about
letting go. It is like some conversation
that you don‘t want to end and life is
that for me. To really let it out I have
to have some
mad blast of seriously dirty thought or
I am attracting alpha male type animals fantasy, and be entirely in the zone of
to me. They are suddenly there upon the profane. Or I might want to excite
me mid-flight, uninvited, breathing myself through a little pain. I use a
down into me like vapid part- trigger. I want more ways of coming
feathered vultures, tearing my neck than I can imagine and yet it is so easy
out. They have no awareness but to to stay with what works. Do we really
sniff out my cunt, they do not even want to make the effort to change?
look into my eyes, they have no eyes.

73
11:11 their imaginations, to burn bright, to
I think I became a masochist at the age have a healthy competition with each
of six. How do you change a message other. I want to push them to learn to
so deeply inlaid? I have to tunnel ‗see‘, and to perceive from their
inwards, down the rabbit hole to find depths, in the way that my teachers did
the dormant and the dead, and the me. Art is the supreme answer to a
insiduous metal traps and be rid of great many problems. Art liberates!
them from the field. There are hidden
memories still. Antiquated treasures. I texted Gabriel last night. I feel so
There is surely no way back? A negated by his quietness. I asked him
masochist for life? Can everything be if I was in his heart or his head. He
changed if you try hard enough? I said he preferred to say I was in his
always try too hard. To play is the soul. I was shocked. He said he was
answer. getting his business good so we could
benefit from it. He said I was a pretty
I feel that Gabriel is softening me up good fuck too. Ha ha! We are getting
somehow at this moment. I used to our regular communication back.
think that it was the other way round
but when we are naked and kissing, he Men don‘t like blood. Must we not
is the one telling me how great he feels like what is inside of us and is
and how beautiful I am. I learnt to uniquely ‗us‘? Do we have to accept
keep my mouth shut with men, and not every part of ourselves to be fully
rock the boat. However the anarchist integrated? Would I taste anyone
in me wants to tear things down and else‘s blood? Or someone‘s menstrual
smash things up. Now, there is no way blood? It is taboo to taste it? It is
that I do not want to speak, and be taboo to release it like my artist friends
authentic. Everyone who comes into do. Blood is feared. Blood is life.
contact is gonna get it. All of me! Life is feared. It is absorbing another
life force, almost like cannibalism,
Men don‘t seem to want sex in reality. partaking in the flesh! ‗Come‘ is
I am finding that they want an different. Blood is homogenous to
emotional connection. I see that with eating the core of a human being. It is
Gabriel and Syd and Dante. Sex is not touching the sacred art of the body.
their priority. They seek friendship.
And want communion and to be held. Intuition is only part-conscious, a
I always thought that men wanted sex. message can be perceived so quickly
I didn‘t know that they were like this! that it is like lightning. So when I
went to the Ladyfest gig of women‘s
Thursday 6th November, 2008 art, I knew that even though he wasn‘t
there that I would see him outside.
I inspire young people like I am some Even though there were hours where
bubbling spring of eternal enthusiasm we could‘ve missed each other, I spied
and motivation. I seek to plug them in him on his bike. Then I wondered if I
to the creative grid. I communicate all had stopped the wrong guy for a
the deeper meaning and profundity of minute as I have only met him several
life and art. I stir them up. I am the times. You can forget those brief little
champion of making them feel good moments of ‗knowing‘. It can be
about being artists…and wanting to quickly over-ridden or forgotten or
practice, unleashing adventurous ideas. wiped swiftly under the carpet of
I awaken them to the desire to let out awareness. Watch what happens to the

74
mind like smoke unfurling, ready to around smelling things to re-acquaint
disappear without trace. myself with where I am; perfumes,
body odour, hair tonics, cigarettes and
Claude so reminds me of my step-dad, alcohol. I smell the smells of bodies
it shocks me. He smelled of shaving permeating the air. It is an OCD, an
foam and moth balls. I can‘t go there obsessive compulsive disorder that
with him; he is ancient in age too, makes me need to know these human
although he is extremely warm and things defining us, as the body is both
intelligent! How can I fancy my dad? art and artifice. I am hungry to write,
Fucking hell he stinks! God I felt like with the same intensity as the desire
I just wanted to be at home writing, for sex. Dante told me I have the
instead of walking around lost parts of biggest libido of anyone he has ever
Hulme, waiting by park land with the known and he means that in the
snapping of twigs and rustling of context of energy not just sex as we
yellow leaves. I wanted to be in my have never slept together. He feels a
warm, dirty, cum-stained, unmade bed! massive life force coming from me.

Naomi‘s gramophone playing at the

Corner house was hypnotic and
warped-sounding, like taking you back
to old pastime ages, pulling you into
other memory zones! She is so
magnetic as she moves and rubs the
antiquated thick discs. Luminous
faced with many pearly white buttons
adorning her collar and a deep French-
blue dress, eyes slightly lined. She
swaps the small tack needles from one
pot to another, in the blinking light of
animations that resemble avant-garde
abstracts.
It is as if things get stuck to me, the
smells of men, their thoughts, and their I look at all the groups and couples
lives. I am a magnet for externalising clinging to each other, and notice I am
male happenings. I am a porthole for always alone. You can‘t create to your
them to see through. I propel the force maximum potential when you are with
for exposure of erotic ideas and human someone as your energies get taken –
interplay. I attract human prey to the force gets axed.
create from in the dialogue they have
with me. But as Warhol said:-‗All Life Everyone is ensconced in their mobile
is Art!‖ I can create from anything. phones, keeping in touch with others.
My leaning to a particular subject Imagine a phone to talk to the dead?
explains about me and my present Technology has advanced us in
desires, my insecurities, dreams and bridging the divide of speaking and
lies. sharing our emotional feelings. We are
Why is smell so important to me? I in age where people are coming
first remember the smells surrounding together and really getting to know the
my dad‘s work as a joiner when I was hidden aspects of ourselves. There
three or four. I loved the smell of glue seems to be more warmth and love and
and wood stripped, and putty. I run connection which is wonderful, rather

75
like Indra‘s net, we all know someone was lying there naked on a stone bed.
who can connect us to someone and it We were trying to get intimate but I
ends up that somewhere we are led was withheld and not really wanting to
right back to our self. We are all touch him. He was looking at me, and
linked. We are all from the same pool as I looked at him I saw these flesh-
of existence. like long pink tubules (like Gunther
Von Hagens dissected cadavers tubes)
I am a freedom fighter of the soul. attached to a large bulbous black cock,
Dante told me I am his soul mate! (which I got very excited about) and
Haven‘t I heard that somewhere the other tubule was attached to
before? Oh god, I get close to people another large cock that was pink and
in no time. I have been watching empty inside, a hollow, like a cunt.
couples getting it on and it is so They were attached to him and lying
beautiful, even though it can be crass neatly beside him. I was unsure of
too. Amanda and Barney, look into what they were but I smiled. He sat up
each others eyes and kiss with that and came towards me and started to
‗knowing-only-for-you-look‘. And smell my arse, saying it was foul; he
when Tsubi and Joe are online I know then inserted his tongue into it and I
they are talking dirty and can‘t wait to saw blood and excrement around his
re-unite when Tsubi flies back from mouth, and I started to gag and woke
Australia. It is all so lovely and myself up with the sound of me
blissful to see beings attuned. I really gagging! How bizarre the dream
feel joy at the beauty and ceremony of clearly alluding to our literary
love. I am not even envious – that is a interactions and the study of sexual
good place to be, I usually set my self psychology!
aside and feel like the odd fucker,
ostracised. I accept where I am right Warrior and Kat‘s ‗love-ferocity‘
now. I am alone. It is fine! I am free seems to be calming down and there
to ‗be‘. No containment. I can do aren‘t quite as many messages now.
whatever I like. The true art of life is He left a few reading…..
to be happy for others happiness!
I want you so bad.
Wow, two glasses of wine and I am Every time you smile makes me want
nobody‘s! I can‘t take drink, I am too you more and more.
pure, she says, she who has been I thought about you all day today and I
smoking hashish. I came home really just wanted to let you know,
tipsy and talked to Dante about love, I miss you and I can’t wait to be in
sex, life, spirituality, emptiness, non- your arms again.
attachment, and de-labelling things. I love you.
We elevate each other to great heights.
Dante brings out the intelligent and And Kat‘s are…….
deeply spiritual nature of me. We
reflect each other a great deal. Together forever.
Love is just a word until you find
Sunday 25th January 2009 someone to give it definition.
I need your love.
I dreamt a very Freudian dream about We belong together.
Dante early this morning. We were Not to be blunt but let‟s fuck.
below the earth in what appeared to be
cavernous dwellings or dungeons. He

76
I think by the comments made they You can always categorise people as
have moved into a place in London ‗types‘ of personality. There are those
together! Ah, the brevity of the who fit in with the many people I have
honeymoon period! However my mate known in 45 years. It is as if they are
PJ says he has said recently things like repeats of great television programmes,
‗Hello sexy, what you up to?‘ What is the doubles of others known and gone.
going on huh? The dirty mind and the I know instantly what someone is
obsequious body still want about, I can feel their dominating
promulgation. The flesh leaks passion emotion, their energy level…and so it
from every bleeding pore. The heart is is this I should access. If I used my
always hurt and we try to plaster the inner knowing, gut feeling and trusted
it, I would never fuck up. We all have
antennae to pick up on the most subtle
of behaviours, but it is whether we use
that knowledge to enlighten us or to
hide that person and take that chance
with them to ramble and perhaps fall.

I fear Sid is an alcoholic and that he

needs to heal others to find himself.
How do I introduce him to this or at
least to some loving ‗open‘ people?
Should I take him there? Do I want to
be around him?

A French courtesan called Misting

Uette who was the grand old age of 85
years when she was eagerly asked ‗at
holes with brief periods of other what age did your sex life end?‘
beings. How can anyone heal your Misting announced ‗I will let you
heart completely? Are we all filler? know!‘

17:17 We are certainly not separated from

our bodies until death. Do young
I came twice yesterday and they were people think that older people lie
quick and urgent. The fantasies were motionless in bed negating the soul
all perverse, dominated by my aunt and housing flesh? Sex is the most
uncle, or lesbian friends or gangs of gratifying, pleasant and loving act you
smelly old men, pinning me down to can commit upon your self, and it
rub me. I was ‗used‘ by anyone and relieves so much stress and tension.
made to ‗come‘. I like to ‗come‘ Sex is like some re-balancing act, it
quickly….it feels like I can do it well reorganises your very being. It brings
and on command like a Pavlovian dog; you back in alignment with your
taking time feels like a curse, even energies. It is the ultimate in exercise
though it is a nice build up. I want to and relaxation. Sex can have no cut-
come over and over on my own, just off point. Sex is life. Sex is not just
for me when I want to. I will try that for the young. Sex is finding your self
out tomorrow? in this unique body. Sex is learning
Experimentation day. about your psychology. Sex is the
basis of your biology. Sex is really

77
freeing. Sex is funny! Sex is timeless. moved out of my mind without a trace!
Sex is a shot at egolessness. I can not find him anywhere. It feels
like he has gone. Completely filtered
Friday 26th August, 2008 out. Like he was a visitation! A
poltergeist!
Another day gone like lightning!
Ironically as fast as it has gone I have I think that this diary looks at the ideas
had a really pensive day….. thoughtful of ‗sexual attraction‘ and ‗love‘ or
and introverted. There is the whole even ‗the lack of love and sex in
cosmos to ponder upon and the slow people‘s lives‘. And also the larger
pace of things in my mind………time issues of being pulled by a lover, to be
to think and breathe. I feel ‗still‘ together and want union with someone
amongst the fracas. who is ultimately a strange
commodity. I am keen to see what
My bro Mike asked me a really drives others into their relationships?
interesting question a few weeks ago To see what they are bound to? What
when we were making the tempts me from ‗normal‘ activities?
chromosome pieces for the Becks gig, Why do I want to meet a person who is
he said:- ‗Sue, do you fall in love with ‗other‘ than, who is miles apart from
these guys you meet on the net, who the straight-laced-man-on-the-street?
you get so close to but might not ever
meet?‘ I kind of gave a quick answer I went to get a health check to day,
and said ‗in a way I do but then I can tested for everything sexually related.
move in and out of it, like an artist They get you to swab your own cunt
can!‘ I have been thinking about the out now, which is all ‗power to the
concept of ‗infatuation‘. There are five people‘. What reclamation of
mental poisons that we get sucked into independence, rather than having some
as human beings….. spectacled nurse looking up your cunt
with her wee scrunched up eyes? They
Infatuation ask you everything that you have done
Aversion over the last three months in detail.
Conceit They want to know what you did
Passion & specifically with genitals and what you
Envy practise! It is an eye opener for
anyone to open out in this way and be
I think that rather than ‗loving so candid. It is so funny. I could feel
someone‘, which takes time to build myself getting redder as I mentioned
plus a large dose of reality to foster; I three sexual conquests this year!
get ‗infatuated‘ by things and people. I Someone could write a great script
get pulled in by what is ‗different‘. I based on a sexual health clinic! It
have always been keen to broaden my would be good to do some nice naked
mind through connections. I can quite genital stuff with Gabriel, and use my
easily come and go, but need to cap, and feel his ‗come‘ inside me. He
connect on a deep level. seemed up for the idea today.

Paul the sniper is not in my mind My attention was caught on Burton

anymore, like I have exorcised a huge Road, when I passed some
demon. I have used some ritual to exceptionally good looking young
clear through the emotional quagmire builders, lifting big bags of sand up,
he caused, but it feels like he has sweating in the sun, with amazing tans

78
and developed muscularity. What a against glass and hold him there and
find! I wanted to stop and say, ‗fuck, suck on his lips.
you are all dead gorgeous, take me in
to that house and have me!‘ My power is ignited always to show
Hahahaha…..my mind is ever my passion and energy. Do I come
creatively fantasising about anything I across as too ‗full-on‘ to others? Do I
see that ticks the boxes and turns me put people off as I am so confident and
on. Now what I should do with that is forward and open? Am I acting? Is it
play with that in fantasy, which I don‘t the ‗performance‘ me that wants to
do, but apparently ‗men do‘! express my desires? And yet I back
Mmmmm will see what I can do with down because I know he is a private
that one. It‘s funny how I have never person and I don‘t want to upset him.
really got off on ‗good-looking‘, pin- So who gets all the power? I have got
up, ‗normal‘ men. I like men who are to start saying and doing and trying for
jagged, jarred, a bit dishevelled, what I want or I am selling out? Maybe
slightly demon and master-like. I like women are the one‘s who make all the
an aura of magical sorcery about men. moves, sexual and otherwise? Where
I prefer a bedraggled warlock than a does all this ‗cunt‘ power come from?
clean-cut prince. Ha, I was going to Is it all a guise? Is it merely something
say ‗cunt-prince‘ there. How the word to talk about? I honestly feel it, the
‗cunt‘ always manifests in my head, power within my cunt. It is electric.
and re-arranges and regurgitates itself!
Gabriel looked so sexy today, he turns
On the bus a woman with looped, me on! I loved the hair growth on his
plaited hair, trips up and nearly falls face, around his mouth. God, that
into a guy‘s lap on the back seat. She drives me wild. He is really
laughs out loud, shouting:-‗Any excuse handsome.
to sit on a man‘s knee!‘ I giggle under I like his lithe white body, his
my breath. Women want to climb up demeanour, his dark features. I love it
on to that thing he has in his lap! when he looks at me, he doesn‘t do
that enough! It is hard to curb the
I met Gabriel today to get some money desire to want to be with him more. I
for recreational drugs. We talk and get imagine with the way his time is eaten
on, but he is so shy or something. He up with work that his spare time is
seems aloof and doesn‘t look at me precious, and that he wants to read,
much or pay me any compliments. watch movies, play console games, get
Why do women give them out all of on his guitar, see his friends, or just be
the time? He has his head in the quiet or listen to music. Ha, that is
clouds of work. I think…. ‗Why are why there is hardly any time left to see
we not close in public? To think of me. I can‘t blame him for this, but
what we do at his is so intimate and yet effort needs to be made to link with me
you would never know it, seeing us!‘ or I am gone! I am not waiting around
He kisses me lightly when we say whilst ‗nothing‘ happens for me. I am
‗goodbye‘, like a peck on the cheek, not going to be bored ‗waiting‘ like
but on the lips, and does it with total some sad lonely cow at home.
control. I want to change that and grip
him and do the opposite, like I am the Maybe I have to be patient and learn
predatory male and he is the shy discipline? Perhaps this is his reserve
withheld female! I want to pin him and he has his own ideas in mind? I
wonder what they are. Why doesn‘t he

79
tell me? How do I get into his pretty Sue says:
little fucking head? I want to send him imagine a figure of me sucking on
the book soon; it does feel like the jesus on the cross
right thing to do, if he wants to get Dante says:
closer to me! I should take the risk. i bet jesus secretly wanted to be
And trust. If I give wholeheartedly, fucked
then he will give too! If I open out Sue says:
then that paves the way for him to hell is part of consciousness no
open out to me. I guess that nothing more
worthwhile should be rushed between Sue says:
us, not sex, nor conversation, or i bet he did fuck
anything. Let it go at its own natural Sue says:
pace instead of trying to control it in the lying little cunt
the fast lane. Dante says:
lol
Dante says:
Dante says: our purpose on this plane of
what about in a church? existence is to fuck
Sue says: Sue says:
ooo yeah all the teachings are built on a lie,
Sue says: utter fucking bullshit
lets blaspheme Sue says:
Dante says: yeah it is
in a confessional booth? Sue says:
Sue says: thats why so many do it, it feels so
theres one near the uni, we could lie good, it is creation itself
down in a pew and kiss Dante says:
Sue says: that's why we've got our
yeah appendages
Sue says: Dante says:
lets do it both cunts and cocks are
Dante says: marvelous creations
i take great delight in sinning Sue says:
Sue says: we emerge from it, sex is the
we will go there highest form of people uniting
Sue says: physically and at some points
i do emotionally
Sue says: Sue says:
i love to sin they are, that is why we are
Dante says: obsessed by them
hell doesn't exist Sue says:
Sue says: we reclaim the original focus
i am a wicked little bitch who Sue says:
would love to fuck jesus we find light in who we are
Dante says: Sue says:
earth is hell in our bodies
Sue says: Sue says:
suck him off in front of everyone we are like the yab-yum, the
Sue says: buddha consorts in sexual bliss
that would be a good sculpture Dante says:

80
 i think underlying it though is the Sue says:
sense that we are sexed and we yeah it can be
want to achieve a state where Sue says:
there is no longer a division - that but not with us cos we create
sense that we are one - united Dante says:
with the male or the female or i could wrap myself in
Sue says: cellophane
well we feel that with someone Sue says:
Sue says: we can push things and do the
but that doesnt remain, the state can wildest of things
only be achieved alone ultimately in Sue says:
Samadhi hahah lets get you in clingfilm my
Sue says: dear
where you unite opposites within Sue says:
Dante says: and when your brother gets home i
is that a form of auto-eroticism? will say i am cooking you
Sue says: Sue says:
but we get a taste of it hahahhahahhahahha
Sue says: Sue says:
what? can you imagine his face
Dante says: Sue says:
Samadhi i can say will you have dinner?
Sue says: Sue says:
interesting point, it is entering the
dhyanic states of meditation
Dante says:
should i try autoasphyxiation?
Sue says:
no not unless i am with you
Dante says:
lol
Sue says:
i know doms who have done that
and it is dangerous
Dante says:
yeh better not
Dante says:
i want transcendence
Sue says:
your life is too precious, i could
show you a few things you could do
though to achieve those feelings
Sue says: you can eat your brother
you can get a face mask..with a zip
Dante says:
mundane existence is shit
Sue says: images © Sue Fox
a rubber one and i can show you
stuff you can do with it

81
 if in a reverie, not really looking at the
pages, but beyond them.
‗Aren‘t you going to answer me?‘
‗Don‘t sound so anxious. This book
might not concern you.‘
But her expression softens.
‗Here. I can‘t tell you, but I can show
you.‘
‗Oh, it‘s a photo album‘.
Why does my heart sink? Here is a
photograph of Deborah, her brown hair
; her russet hair. Her long white
fingers. Her grave, composed face. Her
hidden sense of humour. Her graceless
posture.
CACTUS GARDEN
It‘s a well thought out composition.
By Stephen Sennitt She‘s standing alongside a young birch
tree which is shimmering in the sun.
„I can‟t believe I‟ve got you to myself Lush foliage, small yellow flowering
.‟ shrubs surround her. When I look at
„Yes. What sort of train has a private this image I can hear a brook or a
compartment these days?‟ stream flowing not too distantly. I can
„It‟s strange. Even when I‟m hear Deborah saying my name through
dreaming…‟ the heat haze. I can see a garden of
„Even when you‟re dreaming…things cacti -
don‟t usually run as smoothly as this.‟ „Deborah, I‟m sorry..‟
„That‟s exactly what I was going to That‘s what I wanted to see so badly,
say.‟ but didn‘t want to see: Her eyes are
glass eyes. Coloured glass. Her eyes
1. look through me as though it‘s me that
isn‘t there, not her…
The black earth churns under the
train‘s wheels. The night is frosty,
black ice beneath white smoke. We
look out at our reflections; wan
doppelgangers, peering anxiously,
trying to get inside for some warmth.
I try to take Deborah‘s hand, but she
pulls it away with a conciliatory smile.
‗How long will this take?‘
‗The journey? Maybe another few
hours. Perhaps only half an hour.‘ She
smoothes down a capacious
victorianesque dress, all dusty pleats
and blackness.
‗What‘s that book you‘ve got there?‘ I
ask her. I would dearly like to see her
eyes. She‘s gazing down at the book as

82
 2. with intent, but you have to know what
you‘re looking for. In a garden things
‗How often do you have this dream – can be upturned by accident. You
or similar dreams?‘ might not be looking for anything at
‗About twice a week.‘ all.
The minimalist room is glowing with
soothing orange light. A tape of
waterfalls or pounding surf is playing
in the distance, replicating vague
nostalgias. There is an aroma of orange
scented candles that does not quite
disguise a smell of dampness.
‗How did you feel during the Recalling
this week? The trance I placed you in
was meant to be very light, but you
seemed to go deep. But when you go
deep you fight something. It makes me
feel there‘s something you‘re not
telling me..‘

The Therapist‘s long grey hair is

silhouetted against the window, a mass
3.
of wayward split ends. Her hair
compares very poorly to Deborah‘s. I
The orange lights flicker as I swing
don‘t think I could ever fall for an
open the door.
older woman. Not that much older, at
‗Today I‘m going to tell you about
least. Deborah and I were the same
what Deborah and I did together.
age.
These things weren‘t dreams.‘
‗Were you going to say something to
She doesn‘t so much look at me as
me?‘ Her long face is a wrinkled mask
pause over me, like I‘ve interrupted her
in her effort to ‗reach‘ me.
idea of myself.
‗Only that time‘s up. I‘ll see you next
I tell her about all the trips we took,
week.‘
memorising the snapshots
chronologically. But its no use -
I can‘t understand why I‘m playing
I'm in a cactus garden, alone -
this game with myself. I‘m desperate
Deborah beneath the soil, her doll's
to make someone understand, but
hand pointing a finger to the annex.
when I get the opportunity I back
In the consulting room someone
away. I‘m retreating beneath a
coughs, shuffles their feet.
sardonic mask, like a mixed up
Everyone present has cactus spines in
adolescent. In the meantime, these
their faces, weeping colourless
dreams and nightmares continue. In the
transparent blood.
next session…in the next session I‘ll
tell her. I‘ll just have to force myself to
tell her. Or if not, I‘ll talk to her about
Deborah. I‘ll tell her what she was like.
Images © Alexandria D Douros
A mist rises from the river. These
apartments have no gardens. It‘s a
relief, I suppose. No one has to tend to
the river. You can dredge the river

83
 THE GIMP the sticky slaum of blood, entrails,
semen and excrement with which the
By Christopher Nosnibor

The Gimp rose from her sprawling,

pungent miasma. Spent seed dripped
from her latex and leather-clad hulk.
Her eyes, red, bloodshot, blasted,
peered out from the studded leather
face mask which snugged over her
rotund skull, bullet hard. She leaned up
and surveyed the carnage about her,
the corpses strewn with casual
abandon, limb upon limb in an
unsightly mass of minced, putrefying,
tenderised, pulverised and regurgitated
flesh. As she hauled her own half-
wasted Thalidomide foetal frame up
into the chair, she saw one of the
wounded stir. A hostage to the frame
and the wheels underneath her, The
Gimp slodged her malformed being
into the chair and began to attempt to
pull away. The victim began to haul its
partially-dismembered body through

floor was awash.

The Gimp began to push the wheels
forward. She struggled to lift frame
over the thigh of one of the wounded
beneath her, but finally managed to
trundle her way to the moving figure
who was flailing in an agonised slow-
motion on the floor. The dehumanised
figure before her could not see her
advancing, for it had been blinded
during the previous night‘s events. The
Gimp struggled to discern the being‘s
gender, for it was blood-soaked from
head to toe and was sprawled face
down. An arm was being extended
feebly from its prone position. It
emitted a weak and anxietised grunting
sound, but could not speak, having had
its tongue ripped out of its pathetic
throat. The Gimp kicked the near-
corpse over. It had been a man. Only

84
now it had no genitals. The Gimp her leather outfit. The Gimp moaned
recalled taking a machete to this again as it began its to masturbate its
particularly feeble example of secondary organ. Truly a freak of
manhood in the height of frenzied nature, and probably the world‘s only
sexual activity. The bastard. true hermaphrodite, The Gimp watched
‗Bostid,‘ she spat. ‗Fokken bostid.‘ itself climax in the large mirror. It
The Gimp kicked the wreckage of the rubbed its malformed hand over its
man in the ribs sharply with her good swollen abdomen. It felt the foetus stir
leg. He yelped in excruciating yet still within its womb. It would never be
exquisite pain. He could not reply, or alone.
fight back, since he had both legs
broken and one arm ripped off at the
shoulder. And, of course, he was dumb
and blind. Caked blood had clogged
his eye sockets and run down his face.
The Gimp was still reeling in ecstasy,
and wheeled her way up the ramp and
out of her custom-built dungeon. She
made her way to her room, hormones
still coursing in phenomenally
excessive quantity through her
bloodstream. She placed herself before
the huge mirror which occupied the
wall before her and unzipped her
leather suit to reveal her clammy, oiled
torso. The wasted arm of the parasitic
twin embedded in her torso flopped out
and hung from where her left breast
should have been. Her right breast
glistened with perspiration and
lubricant. Her singular big, thick nipple
stood erect like a thrusting thumb.
With her right hand, which flapped
feebly from the end of her truncated
Thalidomide arm, she fondled her
breast and tugged at the ring which
hung from the pierced protuberance.
The Gimp moaned in delight before
hunching over herself. She crouched “Literature is not innocent.
forward and parted the leather of her
split crotch. She rubbed at her ebony It is guilty and should
cuntlips before spreading them wide admit itself so. Action alone
and showing her pink in the mirror. has its rights, its
The Gimp began to work at her huge
clit, which thrust forth like a small prerogatives”
frond at the top of her twat. (Bataille – „Literature And
She moaned orgasmically before Evil‟)
working the split in her crotch to allow
more room. She popped a huge, erect
black penis from within the confines of

85
 the small park, green and pretty,
MADNESS with the spring sun
(PART ONE) Shining on it.
It was all so perfect and then the
thoughts came sailing in.
By Brian Routh Thoughts that dissected dissection
Photos by Patricia Stein itself.
Like a big amorphic mass of
THE HOSPITAL cancerous monsters munching away.
Thick with dust the book stared at
The phone rang. me.
The voice at the other end of the line I moved towards it, my heart
said: beating heavily in my skull.
“You've got it all wrong.” Leave me be, I thought.
“What!” I managed, not quite Words drown me I fear.
knowing where it was going. Too many ideas explained by too
“You don‟t listen, you just don‟t much verbiage.
bloody listen.” Trying to decipher it all is much too
“Who is this?” I said feeling proud time consuming and exhausting.
at being able to put together a Where do all the discarded thoughts
question. go? I wondered.
I looked myself in the eye in the Outside on the street in front of my
mirror above the gas fire. apartment building………that‟s
I put the phone down. where I am now as I begin to
pretend to act and walk like
It was peaceful, quiet. everyone else as I move through the
I sat down on the bed. streets.
Out through the window I could see Speech is the normal form of

86
communication and also the most arranged for you to be picked and
accepted form, to the point of taken to that hospital I was telling
persecution of others that may have you about.”
to resort to other forms. I put the phone down and yanked
The desert surrounds me as I walk the cord out of the wall.
down a street lined with office I was soon asleep again.
buildings and lawns. They came and got me at around
I am floating in deep space as I enter 4am. I guess they picked that hour
the doctor‟s office on the 73rd floor. for dramatic effect.
“Good morning Mr. Crawford, The ride was smooth enough.
would you be kind enough to sit At the hospital I was confronted by
down whilst the nurse brings in your about a half dozen women who
file?” asked me questions and asked me to
He sat there observing me like I was sign my name to various forms.
some specimen. I complied.
I felt like a slab of meat in a I was soon in a pair of blue pyjamas
butcher's shop with flies hovering and white terry cloth robe with
over it. stains and holes in it.
The nurse handed Dr.Lowenstein Also plastic slippers and white tube
the file. socks.
He smelled of Colgate and lifebuoy I was led to a small room with a bed
soap as he shuffled a bunch of and a toilet and washbasin.
papers around. I was locked in.
At great length he sighed, put his I stood there not knowing what to
hands behind his head and leaned do.
back in his chair. When the light went out I fell asleep.
“How long have you been having
these delusions about energy MEETING THE GANG
beings?”
I looked him in the eye; it was like I was shocked out of a deep sleep by
looking into the cold detachment of a a poker-faced man with thin blond
camera lens. hair and blue watery eyes wearing a
“Why do I come here?” white orderly's coat.
“Because the court has ordered you He was standing over me trickling
to or else be sent to a psychiatric urine over my face from a urinal
hospital.” bottle.
He was walking around the room. He was smiling.
I got up and walked out. I started to jump up and then
He was still talking when I quietly realized I was in restraints.
closed the door behind me. “Welcome to the latest in
I decided to take the consequences psychotherapy, asshole.”
and do my own thing. He spat the words so that I was
sprayed with his spit.
I got back to the afternoon sunlight “What you got between your legs?
in my apartment. Anything worth chopping off or
I sat there staring into the void and bruising?”
fell into a light doze. He stood still and stared at me
The phone shocked me back. intently.
“Who is it?” I yelled into the plastic. “I‟ll have to think up something
“It‟s Dr. Lowenstein and I‟ve special for you.”

87
Just then the door opened and in Why am I in this place?
walked a nurse. She looked angry. The whole planet seems to be one big
“Why is this man in restraints?” She sick room. Full of an amnesiac
shot at the orderly. humanity that lives in fear and
“Well! He drank his own piss. I imagination.
caught him red handed. Disgusting Why can‟t this body die and let me
filthy pig.” fly?
“Get out of here before I throw you Repeated over and over in my head.
out!” She moved threateningly I always feel that I am not of this
towards him. world.
His whole demeanour changed. I am in this world of unconscious
His chest sagged and his jaw activity along with the rest of
dropped. humanity but the one central “I”
“I-I-I-m g-g-g-going!” He stuttered that I truly am is of another realm.
and nervously ran out of the room. A realm that cannot be explained by
The nurse was a middle-aged this world.
woman, plump with short brown “It‟s time for your meds
hair. Mr.Crawford.”
“It‟s ok Mr.Crawford, I‟ll undo you, “It‟s time for your
get you cleaned up and take you to meds………Mr.Crawford? Come
the dining room.” along now.”
She began to undo the restraints. Two bright twinkling stars were
“Don‟t worry about Herman. He‟s a guiding my attention.
trustee. Just shout at him and he‟ll I was flying, soaring over mountains
run away.” and forests. Doing somersaults and
Her name was Mavis and she was a having so much fun with so much
nice person. ease.
She helped clean me up and took me Two bright twinkling stars were now
for breakfast. two bright twinkling eyes.
Kindly eyes.
The breakfast was a choice of bacon Eyes filled with sunlight.
or sausage toast and eggs with tea or “Ah! You're back.”
coffee. Yes I was back.
The room was filled with a sorry Back in the outfit that I‟m travelling
collection of individuals most of who in, the human body.
looked drugged up to the eyes. “Here‟s your medication
The orderlies surrounding us looked Mr.Crawford.”
big, stupid and menacing. Yes of course the words singing at
I realized that I seemed to be under me are coming from the two bright
the influence of some drug as I tried eyes that I‟m drinking from.
to coordinate my body. There was the nametag „Mavis,‟ the
Using a knife and fork was an friendly nurse.
incredible effort of will. Of course, as I swallowed two small
Even my stomach and it‟s digestive pink pills followed by a thimble full
machinery balked at having to do of water.
it‟s job as I slowly and clumsily “Would you like something to
shoveled forkfuls of food into my read?”
leaking orifice of a mouth. I tried to nod yes but could only
Why couldn‟t I be the superman drop my head and look stupid.
that I was in my head? I thought. “Some TV maybe?”

88
She motioned for me to get up. “Time for the doctor Mr.Crawford.”
Arm in arm we shuffled across the The ceiling talks to me.
floor, through a door, down a long “Mr.Crawford……….?”
velvet cushioned hallway, through Yes, here I am in the funny farm.
another door and into a large musty A long room with a dozen or so beds
room filled with bookcases of books. in it.
Men were sitting and staring into Men being dressed by men and
space with books open in front of women in white suits.
them. The black woman in white is
Mavis navigated me through the standing at the bottom of the bed.
room and through another door and She is staring at me.
into a long narrow room filled with Next to her is an Indian looking man
smoke. also wearing white with a
She led me through the smoke and stethoscope around his neck.
sat me down in a bright red checked “Good morning Mr.Crawford and
armchair. how are we today?”
The loud sound of a TV echoed off As I struggled for an answer………
the bare walls. “Not very responsive, increase the
Through the smoke I could see many dosage of thorazine? And park him
faces poking out cigarettes here and in the day room……right! Nurse
there. next patient!”
All of their gazes turned to the TV I had part of the answer but it was
screen, a flashing glimmer in the too late, they were gone.
distance. I wanted to go back to the ceiling but
Mavis was gone, disappeared into I was pulled out of bed and dressed
the mist. in a pair of jeans, T-shirt and
I was left alone in the fog. sneakers.
Staring at the ceiling I imagined And guided into what I took to be
myself to be flying through the air the day room.
above the city. The outer space room was what it
I was a clear, confidant being, felt like.
operating on all cylinders. Every single person in it talked or
Spreading the message of love and thought to themselves.
forgiveness. No one communicated with another
Free from all judgement, from all person.
attachments. People talked at each other but there
A vehicle of unconditional love. was no interaction.
Filled with wonder and the magic of Maybe this is how it is outside, I
having no expectations. thought.
I am flying because I am filled with How many of us really communicate
so much light. and feel communicated with.
There is complexity but no It‟s interesting that I feel so rational
complication. and yet cannot get it out to the
Here I am navigating this body outside world.
through so many dense energy fields. Before they pumped me with drugs
Dodging the bullets armed with there was a chance, but now forget
negative thoughts. it.
Here I am as I land on top of They‟ve put the robot to sleep and
St.Paul‟s Cathedral. As there is no way for me to operate it.
I………………. It‟s like being horribly stoned.

89
All of us in the day room are Gasping for air.
smashed out of our brains on drugs Being moved around by their slimy
and encouraged to act crazy. bodies.
What an odd idea, I thought. “It‟s ok, it‟s all part of the healing
We are rounded up off the streets or Mr.Crawford.”
from our homes, or other people‟s One of the snakes turned to tell me.
homes and because of some “More thorezene Mr.Crawford?”
idiosyncratic difference in our Another snake asked me. A snake in
perception we are taken to a a turban confronted me.
building pumped full of drugs and “What‟s all this sexual aggression
let loose in a locked room and Mr.Crawford?”
expected to act crazy and this is It asked me.
supposed to be healing? I can‟t get out of my head, I thought
Numbed out and watched. as I was awakened by Herman
Interrogated by a doctor shouting and screaming.
periodically who uses head games to
probe the robot part of us that is He was on top of the TV cage
numbed out by the drugs and unable looking all bruised and bleeding.
to allow a clear channel of “Get me down! Get me down!”
communication to flow forth. He kept yelling as the nurses
I know what to say but the machine struggled standing on chairs to
part of me that communicates with rescue him.
you has been put to sleep. A wiry but strong looking man was
A sane person held captive in an being tied into a straight jacket,
insane world. obviously the aggressor now victim,
Who are they kidding? but he seemed calm enough, not
If I am not my body then what does resisting the nurses in the least.
it matter? In fact looking quite bored by it all.
I will survive this body so good I caught his eye.
riddance. A deep penetrating gaze.
The energy waves began to swirl A strong gaze filled with intelligence
around me as we were all herded and bemusement but also a
together by white clothed sheep dogs frightening gaze, filled with a cruelty
and moved to the dining room for that made me look away.
our lunch. They led him calmly away.
I don‟t even know what country I‟m Herman was down off the TV and
in or for that matter what planet I'm looking more damaged in pride than
on and it doesn‟t make a bit of in body, already hurling threats of
difference. revenge towards an empty doorway.
I poured the food into my machine Before I knew it, I was sound asleep
and fell asleep in the day room. again off on another adventure in
I dreamed of big shiny snakes. dreamland.
Snakes about 50 feet long and 6 feet
wide all moving together in the day THE VISITOR
room.
I was covered in slime and moved “You have a visitor Mr.Crawford.”
between them like the helpless Chimed Big Ben, the hands on
human that I am. the face at 12 o‟clock.

90
91
I watched as the clock disappeared. What did God have in mind for me?
“Hello Peter, how are you?” I thought as the light began to fade.
Sang the voice of what looked like an Soon it was dark and I felt so
angel standing before me. completely and utterly alone.
“I‟m your social worker and I‟ve I wished that my body would expire
come to see how you are settling in?” and set me free from this world.
She sang again. How could I pretend to be interested
She was floating above me with big in anything, it all seemed so totally
white wings flapping in slow motion. hopeless.
Her words turned into a kind of I sank into a dark depressing mud.
gibberish. Engulfed and gasping for air.
I tried hard to decipher her but “Don‟t think about the cake when it
found the task impossible. isn‟t there to eat.”
“……………………And I‟ve heard Said the voice from the past.
from your wife.” “Detach and forget about me.”
I understood that part, wife! I It continued.
thought hard about that word. “Your love will be shared with my
Wife? What wife? Do I have a wife? family.”
I asked myself. It echoed through the cold, drafty
“She has consulted her solicitor corridors of my being.
about the divorce and it‟s only a Don‟t go there! Said my head. Stay
question of time now before it is out of the past!
final.” I was falling and falling, down and
The final curtain, I thought. down.
Is this some strange opera that I'm Deeper and deeper into the abyss.
an extra in or am I the lead? Drowning in the mire and misery of
The lead without song, without my self-pity.
words. No light here.
The woman sitting in front of me Just darkness.
suddenly stood up, picked up a I lifted my hand but could see
briefcase and was gone, her heels nothing. All was pitch black.
clip-clopping down the hallway and I opened my eyes and there was the
fading into the distance. man with the frightening gaze.
Sitting and penetrating me with his
I felt cold and sad and alone and laser beam eyes.
forgotten. I stared back and started to sob out
I remembered the great love of my loud.
life. His face turned into a cruel smile
A woman who was in every way my and he arose and floated away in the
equal but who was someone else‟s. wind.
Ah yes! I thought, we were so perfect “Mr.Crawford? You don‟t seem to
together. be making any improvement.”
We would get lost in each other‟s What!? I thought as I looked up to
eyes when we talked. see a large turtle in a white coat.
Our beings seemed to merge and “We are going to change your
expand as one and we would be medication.”
drunk with each other‟s energy but The voice said seductively.
she was a wife and mother to some “Blub!Blub!Blub!” I said out loud.
other far away family. Why couldn‟t “Exactly!” The singing turtle
it have been me? concluded and was gone.

92
Mavis the nice nurse was holding my around him.
hand and soothing me with gentle They managed to grab him, stick a
words. hypodermic needle into him and put
I wanted to put my head in her lap him into a straight jacket.
and fall asleep. They dragged him off away to the
She helped me up and led me outside isolation cell, his screams faded
and we walked around a small away into the distance.
garden. The drama was over, the lights went
A nightingale sang hauntingly out and an eerie silence descended
through the night air. over the ward.
It seemed to penetrate my soul.
It filled my eyes with tears. I lay in my bed as the morning light
“There there!” Mavis softly sang as began to filter through into the
she sweetly patted my hand. ward.
“There there!” She whispered as the I began to remember the last time
tears rolled down my cheeks. Mary and I were together.
She continued in this way until all It seemed that everything was so
the tears were gone and sleep and perfect.
tiredness overcame me. I thought that we would find a way
She put me to bed, as a mother to be together forever, that all the
would do her child. problems of her marriage and
Tucked in, I drifted into a beautiful children would somehow magically
sunlit garden with bright red roses evaporate into thin air.
and golden cherubs. Why did life deal me such a cruel
Apple trees with large plump red blow?
apples fell and thudded on the soft Why did God connect me with her?
grass as I moved by them. Why did she pursue me?
Butterflies landed on my clothes and What did she want from me?
fluttered their wings at me and flew She drew me in and then panicked
away. when we got too close.
This must be heaven, I thought. I felt like she had played with fire
Soon I was fast asleep. when she had decided to fuck with
The sleep of contentment. my head and heart.
The sleep of innocent childhood. She went back to her family and
dropped me like a piece of trash.
I felt betrayed, cheated, lied to and
NIGHTMARE used.
I guess I was some kind of game that
I was awakened by a loud piercing got too much for her when her
scream. feelings got involved.
I forced myself into a sitting position It put me over the edge.
and peered into the darkness. It was my last attempt at love and
Another blood curdling scream rang relationships.
out. I just didn‟t give a shit anymore.
At the end of the row of beds the I was sick of people and their
man with the penetrating gaze was unconsciousness. Didn‟t anyone take
standing on his bed, throwing his any responsibility for their actions I
arms around and screaming. thought?
The bright lights came on and a half We just grope around in the dark,
dozen white coats were flying bumping into each other.

93
Trashing each other‟s lives. I lay there in that state for what
I felt all the hurt surface in me seemed like centuries.
again. Maybe months passed.
Hurt and anger! I don‟t know exactly.
I began to want her again. But some time certainly passed
My stomach started to knot up and because I became aware of the
my head began to ache. change in the seasons.
Oh shit! I noticed snow on the ground; in fact
Why was it all so complicated? I noticed heavy snow falling past the
I never heard from her again. window.
How could she be so cold? I wasn‟t sure who I was or what my
I thought as I lay there in the crazy name was.
house, seemingly lost to oblivion. People called me Mr.Crawford, so I
I remember reading somewhere that guess that was my name.
Jesus couldn‟t heal those souls that There were no thoughts anymore.
were stripped naked by oblivion. No sadness, joy, anger or any other
Was I one of those souls? emotion.
Souls that were trapped in matter I had very faint memories of some
but unable to communicate anything other life.
anymore. Some past but it was so faint that it
I couldn‟t seem to turn my head off could have been a story on TV for all
from the sadness of it all. I knew.
I tried to pray but nothing happened I was an object, surrounded by
except that I expected something to objects.
happen. All of us moving through space
Oh God! Please help me to together.
transcend all of this?
Help me to become strong and
enthusiastic about life again? MAVIS
Help me to experience joy and
happiness? Mavis sat by my bed quite often and
I lay there feeling self-pity. read to me.
It had gone way past that though. She read stories about people, who
Way past self-pity. had emotions, who had lives filled
Like Humpty Dumpty I could not with dramas.
put all the pieces together again. Eventually through time I began to
All the King‟s horses and all the relearn about life through the stories
King‟s men in their white coats that she read to me.
couldn‟t either. I began to claim these stories as my
There they all are, I thought as they own memories. In fact maybe some
wheeled me into a small cubicle and of them were my memories, I don‟t
placed electrodes on either side of know for sure but slowly and surely
my head. MARY! MARY! I I began to regain my life with her
screamed inside my head as the help.
painful surge of electricity shot She had for some reason decided to
through my skull. help me.
Frying my brain and destroying all A kindred spirit
of my memories. We took walks together around the
Comatose and blank, they wheeled small garden and she told me stories
me back to my bed. about her life.

94
About her husband and her myself with an enthusiasm for life.
children. Eager to be up, dressed and out the
I became happy for her and her door with a book to take out into the
family. garden and read all by myself.
I laughed when she laughed, cried at Six months had gone by and I felt
her disappointments, got excited happy.
when she was excited. Soon I was
feeling good about life, my life. (part two will be featured in the next
Soon I was waking up and dressing issue of Paraphilia)

95
 PECKINPAH ―Well, we were just…‖
―Excellent. Alex,‖ Silver-hair calls out
SHAKEDOWN to a youthful chinless bartender,
―Another round for these two gents at
By Craig Woods table 26. And put it on my tab, eh?‖
―Great‖ Frankie smiles and shrugs,
―Afternoon, gents.‖ apparently unperturbed by this
The man in the dark overcoat stands at unwelcome imposition. ―The ol‘
our table. Distracted by the ghost of whistle can‘t get too wet.‖
Poppy‘s sad smile, I had failed to ―And anything for yourself Mr
perceive his approach. Startled, I stuff Connolly?‖ The bartender stammers in
the photo into my inside coat pocket the feeble voice of a diffident child.
where it huddles against the gun‘s cold Connolly replies without turning,
body with the inelegance of a reluctant keeping his eyes fixed upon Frankie
lover. and myself: ―No thanks, Alex. But feel
―Not disturbing you am I?‖ The man‘s free to pour yourself one. Mind if I join
remote eyes, as silver as his closely you fellas for a moment?‖ He pulls a
cropped hair, regard us with the chair from the adjacent table and seats
imposing glare of a stern schoolmaster. himself without waiting for a response.
―Not at all.‖ I lean back in my chair, Up this close and in the soft daylight
attempting an illusion of composure. seeping in from the window, the man‘s
―Just a little bit of catching up going features appear diffused and less
on here.‖ angular, but his cold stare is just as
―Yeah, it‘s sure been a while since I imposing. Connolly is perhaps in his
seen this fella here,‖ Frankie interjects, early 40s, a handsome man with a
his blind eyes rolling uselessly in his prison guard‗s look about him; healthy
skull. ―Of course, it‘s been a while lean physique enshrouded within the
since I‘ve seen anything at all. But dark coat, pronounced bone structure
that‘s what happens when you bash the and solid jaw line, the eyes sharp and
old bishop a little too much, eh? No- arresting. He keeps both hands buried
one to blame but my randy old self.‖ in his coat pockets. He‘s packing, no
Frankie bellows once again at his own doubt of that.
joke. There is a pause as the man looks from
The silver-haired man says nothing, me to Frankie in silent appraisal. Then
merely pauses a moment before his the synthetic grin reappears. ―So what
stony face cracks into a toothy brings you gents to this particular
artificial grin. establishment?‖
―Sorry about the noise here,‖ I smile Frankie shrugs. ―Oh you know.
reassuringly, ―Hope we‘re not spoiling Sometimes just nice to get away from
anyone‘s lunch. Just been a while and the bustle of the city centre, eh?‖
you know how it can be when old ―Too true,‖ Connolly replies with
friends meet…‖ mock joviality, ―Hell, that‘s how I
Silver-hair scoffs with affected ended up a regular here. Sometimes
humility. ―Not at all, friends. It‘s good even an old rat like myself likes to take
to see the patrons enjoying themselves a break from the maze for the odd hour
here. I know Mr DeVanney sure or two. Sitting out here, enjoying a
appreciates it,‖ he nods in the direction drink and a friendly chit chat with the
of the maître d' who looks on in silent staff, looking out at those old ruins…‖
menace. ―Can I buy you fellas a he gestures with a sharp nod towards
drink?‖ the window and the faded arcades

96
beyond. ―Well, a man could just forget A trickle of cold sweat compels a train
about the city, forget about work, even of terror down the line of my spine.
forget what time it is… Am I right?‖ ―Absolutely,‖ Frankie jumps in,
A cold knot twists in my stomach. This ―Nothin‘ worse than a bad citizen. I
is officially a shakedown. One amiss might be blind but I can smell the no
word from either of us and we could be good shit of shirkers and gypsies and
on our way to a cosy all-expenses-paid junkies and all the other scum from
accommodation complete with three blocks away. I tell ya, nice a
reinforced windows and wrist place as this here establishment is, I
restraints at the local Institute… feel like I need a fuckin‘ gasmask to
―I don‘t have time to forget about the put up with the smell o‘ that fuckin‘
time,‖ I force myself to utter, ―But it‘s place out there,‖ He illustrates the
sometimes nice to take the time to desolate arcades with the jerk of a
pretend to forget about time for a greasy thumb, ―But hell, enough o‘ this
time.‖ here veal and I‘ll cancel it out with
Connolly‘s metallic eyes stare some smells of my own, eh?‖ He
piercingly for a few seconds before he erupts in a madman‘s guffaw.
emits a bray of mechanical laughter. Connolly reprises his steely android
―Very good, sir. A bit of lunchtime grin, hands shifting slightly in the coat
wit, always a time and a place for that. pockets. I caress the gun in my own
Especially in dark times such as these I pocket nervously.
should say.‖ One unruly puppy and the whole
―He‘s a real joker my friend here,‖ kennel collapses…
Frankie opines, ―About time he had his ―There‘s an attitude I like. Nothing
own prime time TV slot. Or a column more noble than a man who can make
in The Times.‖ the best of his situation. That‘s what
―Indeed, quite so. Always a job keeps this fine society of ours moving
available for the right talent I say.‖ along. Something our maître d' here
Connolly gestures with another jerk of certainly understands, isn‘t that so Mr
the head, indicating the bar. ―Like Mr DeVanney?‖
DeVanney there. Finest maître d' in the DeVanney responds in a strained hiss
damn business I tell you. Knows how a through gritted teeth, his reptilian eyes
restaurant‘s supposed to be run and clearly spitting a hex upon our table.
keeps it running efficiently.‖ The ―Yes sir. Quite.‖
maître d' continues to look on in mute The other two Agents at the bar, one
derision. ―Important thing that in a youthful and fat-faced, the other tall
society like ours. Knowing how to fit and balding, share a silent smirk
in and do a job well. Doing your bit to ―You see, gentlemen,‖ Connolly‘s
keep the old clock ticking. Don‘t you unseen hands shift once more, ―Mr
agree?‖ DeVanney is truly the epitome of an
Frankie grunts and nods lazily. upright citizen. Provides a valuable
Connolly glares at the blind man, eyes service to a needy public and provides
narrowing. it well.‖
―Yep. It‘s good to be valued alright.‖ I ―Yes, the food and service here are
regret the words as soon as they have certainly commendable.‖ My right
fallen from my mouth. index finger throbs with pain and I am
―Well of course, everyone is valued. In suddenly aware that I have been
accordance with their willingness to pressing it precariously to the trigger
accept civic duty. That is as it should of the revolver. I attempt to relax but
be, is it not?‖ the finger will not budge, as though it

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has assumed the power of a dowser‘s Connolly‘s eyes, like those of a
wand, preparing to strike at the ravenous predatory bird, are fixed
impending threat it has surely upon me in icy scrutiny. ―Well, to an
identified. extent. Of course, we wouldn‘t want
―Ah yes indeed, dear fellow. But Mr too much diversity now, would we?
DeVanney‘s dedication to his civic After all, cohesion depends on a
duty does not end with his in-house certain level of homogeneity. Isn‘t that
hospitality. In fact, that‘s just the tip of so?‖
a very valuable iceberg.‖ I open my mouth to reply but emit only
Connolly breaks off as Alex the a short dry croaking sound. The
bartender approaches our table, tray of Agent‘s glare is burning a hole through
drinks held at an awkward and self- my skull. Clearing my throat, I grip the
conscious angle. The Agent looks on beer bottle with my left hand. The
with a mock parental pride as the throb in my right has become
ineffectual youth places another pint of unbearable, the trigger finger
lager in front of Frankie and deposits a screaming now in a savage red alert. I
bottle of expensive European beer by can feel a storm of panic brewing in
my unused cutlery. The bartender my gut, an anxious cauldron of bile
presses the empty tray flat to his chest threatening to propel its labours on a
and waits for some signal to leave. rapid hike towards my oesophagus. I
―Thank you, Alex. That‘ll be all for the am almost thankful when Connolly
moment.‖ Officially dismissed, the breaks the silence of his own volition;
feckless young man retreats in an ―Without a certain established standard
ungainly shuffle. of conformity in our society, we would
Frankie grips the pint glass with thick cease to have order. And without
fuzzy fingers and lifts it to his order, we would have chaos. And that
calloused lips, slurping noisily. A clearly would not do.‖
slight twitch at the edge of a cold grey ―You‘re right there, guv.‖ Frankie
eye betrays Connolly‘s disgust. wipes away a second beard of foam
―That hits the spot that does.‖ Frankie with the back of an imperturbable
slams the now almost half-empty glass hand. ―Nothin‘ worse than plebs who
back down on the table, grinning don‘t know their place. All these
uncouthly through a thin beard of lager welfare-leeching junkies and filthy-
foam. ―Cheers.‖ skinned aliens poppin‘ up here, there
―No problem.‖ The Agent‘s and everywhere lookin‘ for free
ingratiating tone suddenly acquires a handouts, then complainin‘ when the
sanctimonious edge. ―Though rather freebies don‘t quite match up to
you than me there. That cheap brewery whatever backwards culture they
mush plays havoc with the insides you fancy… Start pullin‘ your weight on
know. But still…‖ this ship or be prepared to walk the
―You pick your poison, eh?‖ Frankie plank, that‘s what ol‘ Frankie says.‖
finishes Connolly‘s sentiment with a The Agent‘s face is illuminated with a
sly wink as he wipes a greasy sleeve baleful glow of delight. ―My friend,
across his mouth. with that positive attitude you‘ll go far
―It rather seems we do.‖ Again with in this life.‖
the infuriating artificial smile. ―Frankie? What‘s going…?‖ Jeannie
―A little diversity is what keeps us has re-emerged from the restroom and
interesting, eh?‖ My own words stands in the centre of the restaurant,
resonate like a death knell. gazing nervously at our table and at the
Agent imposing himself there.

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Connolly turns to her with a static ―But of course, that is a deviation of
unsmiling expression, saying nothing. the species I think we can afford to
Behind Jeannie, the fat-faced Agent tolerate. For as long as we keep them
nudges his balding comrade and jerks in line, yes?‖ - His terrible grin
his head towards the woman‘s butt. conjures a memory of my boyhood;
The two men indulge in lewd gestures Auntie Sheila‘s old tarot deck… the
at Jeannie‘s expense. Anxious, she Death card… that ominous visage of
addresses my gaze. With a darting bare bone twisted into a malicious
motion of the eyes, I will her towards sneer… - ―The female of the species
the main entrance. may be a tempestuous and whimsical
Get the hell out of here, Jeannie. beast but, with the right training, they
―I…‖ she fumbles with her purse, soon learn their place. Just as we all
searching frantically for an excuse to must.‖
leave. Frankie gulps the last of his lager and
―You better be off then, love.‖ places the glass down on the table with
Frankie‘s tone is impeccably casual. a gratified sigh. ―Well, I reckon most
―Don‘t want to upset her, eh?‖ other beasts are easier to tame. That‘s
Jeannie squints, overcome with fear why I only date horses this weather.‖
and confusion. ―She…?‖ This remark pleases the Agent who
Frankie turns in his seat and addresses chuckles heartily and pats Frankie‘s
the woman directly. ―Your sister. shoulder in a gracious gesture.
You‘re babysitting your little nephew, Thank fuck for Frankie‟s cool under
remember?‖ pressure like this. I don‟t know how
The woman‘s eyes turn again to me much more of this bullshit I can take.
and I wink reassuringly. ―Oh… of ―Ah well, you joke but sadly there are
course,‖ she says finally, ―I… well, I‘d all kinds of deviants out there who‘d
better be going.‖ She turns on her heel happily do just that.‖ The Agent is
and heads for the door. composed once more. ―With some of
―Goodbye Jeannie, nice to see you the terrible things being done out on
again.‖ our streets these days, it‘s a wonder
She pauses at the doorframe, a I‘m able to laugh at all. What with the
resigned expression in her melancholy gypsies and vagabonds and feral
eyes. ―You too. We‘ll do it again peoples inhabiting the shadows of our
soon?‖ city, corrupting our children… I
―Sure thing.‖ My tone is not nearly as sometimes wonder if more drastic
sincere as I would like. measures should not be implemented
―See ya, sweet cheeks.‖ Frankie blows to restore order to these stricken areas
a lazy kiss from a grimy palm. and teach these wayward lumps of
Jeannie closes the door behind her and human garbage the error of their
is gone. Fat-face and Baldy share a ways.‖
vulgar giggle. DeVanney watches, Conscious of my silence, I force
arms folded tightly across his chest, as myself to speak. ―Yes, it‘s a terrible
Jeannie hurries past the window to dark time indeed. One can only hope
disappear along the unseen street. for some positive change…‖
Turning back to Connolly, Frankie ―Oh but hope will change nothing my
grins affably. ―Women, eh?‖ dear boy. Only decisive societal action
―A different species some say.‖ will conquer the cancer that threatens
Connolly‘s tone is blank and factual. to destroy those values we hold dear.
―I‘ll drink to that, guv.‖ There‘s no doubt these problems are
escalating in their severity, and we

99
must therefore assume the with all the sympathy of a dead fish,
responsibility to resist them in equal ―But this kind of deviancy must be
measure. It seems to me appropriate to tackled and it must be tackled with
fight fire with fire.‖ proportional force. If these fiends are
―So, for instance…‖ Frankie takes the prepared to assault some of our most
Agent‘s ball and runs, ―The siege on sacred institutions then we must be
that medical institute a little while prepared to strike back with an iron
back…‖ fist; track down those responsible and
―Terrible business.‖ incinerate them. There is no room for
―…That was a pretty violent affair. lily-livered measures here. This is war,
Millions worth of damage I hear. And make no mistake. And I for one am
not to mention the staff who were prepared to stand and fight for what is
traumatised and injured…‖ good and right.‖
―And, dear boy, the poor children who Anxious to deflect any expectation to
were wrenched from their hospital contribute to this discussion, I raise the
beds and whisked off into the night by beer bottle to my lips and take a long
those awful people. Can you imagine hard swig. My arm shakes notably and
such horror? This Institute is a place I curse my failure to quell the tension
where highly skilled and altruistic currently wracking my nervous system.
professionals seek to repair the ―Yeah, that seems sound,‖ Frankie
damaged and refine the average. Such continues to roll, ―Amazin‘ that such
Institutions are the future of our evil exists out there, eh? To think
society. Brave men and women there‘s folks who‘d kill for the right to
dedicated to the perfection of the be sick. Madness.‖
human species; to the ultimate ideal of ―Indeed it is my friend. And it does not
the perfect body, the perfect mind. The end there. Let us not forget the latest
ultimate desirable template. And these developments regarding what some
freaks, these monsters, these… have identified as a Hybrid Cult.‖
terrorists‖ Connolly literally spits the My heart comes to a dead cold halt.
word as though it were poison lodged My hand brings the beer bottle
in his gullet, ―…They claim to favour a reflexively down to the surface of the
vision which celebrates the deformities table with greater impact than I would
and ugliness and imperfections of the have preferred. One glance at
afflicted. Can you conceive of such a Frankie‘s face informs me that his
loathsome idea?‖ mask of joviality has suffered a severe
―I reckon I‘d rather not,‖ Frankie says, dent.
―Hell, I‘d give my sense of smell to see
again. Unluckily for me I‘ve had an Fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck…
allergic bloody reaction to every
treatment they‘ve offered me. Can you A devious spark flickers in Connolly‘s
believe that? Of all the rotten luck.‖ icy eyes. ―Oh, you haven‘t heard? Yes,
Even by Frankie‘s standards, this lie is a recent appalling development
lamentably lame. The metallic glimmer apparently. Seems some of those awful
in Connolly‘s eyes gives nothing away. Eastern European gypsies and
The revolver in my pocket whispers Hispanic vagabonds have more than a
seductive psychic mantras of violence. few carny connections. In fact, I‘ll be
My trigger finger threatens to damned if some of them don‘t have the
explode… blood of circus freaks flowing through
―You poor fellow, that is deeply their filthy veins. That in itself is vile
unfortunate,‖ the Agent‘s voice drips enough. But there‘s more,‖ Connolly

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leans in with weighty solemnity, Connolly‘s diatribe is interrupted by a
―Seems some of these self-styled thunderous sound from beyond the
revolutionary cults want to do window; a deafening bestial roar which
everything they can to mock all the reverberates through the streets,
values of a decent society. Taking rattling the windowpanes and causing
these freaks and monsters as their cutlery to fall in a clatter from nearby
template, it seems there‘s some tabletops. Startled, the agent tenses in
dedicated to producing new strains of his chair. I notice his right hand jerk
human-animal hybrids.‖ instinctively within the confines of his
―Oh, come on now,‖ Frankie attempts pocket, no doubt clamping around the
to regain his composure, ―That‘s all a gun concealed there.
little bit far flung ain‘t it?‖ A dark shapes oozes into view on the
The Agent leans back in his chair, eyes opposite side of the window; a sleek
ablaze. ―My dear fellow, everyone black Jensen automobile, its gleaming
these days is an amateur scientist. Ever paintwork reflecting the fathomless
since certain irresponsible melancholy of the grey afternoon sky.
governments made the terribly ill- The machine comes to a halt, perching
advised decision to open the internet to upon the edge of the pavement. I
the general public, just about anyone notice Connolly‘s eyes narrow with
can attain the know-how for all kinds cautious suspicion, the hand in his
of horrendous practices. It‘s simply a right pocket fixed rigid at a
matter of knowing where to look.‖ pronounced angle. The driver of the
―Well, I never.‖ Frankie rubs a fuzzy vehicle kills the engine. The restaurant
hand across his face and casts an is silent.
urgent look in my direction. ―Whatever The driver‘s door swings open and the
next, eh?‖ figure of a young woman emerges
―Next will be the destruction of our from within. Her face is concealed by a
good and decent society unless we swaying curtain of long jet black hair
strike at this horror immediately! What which in turn is lost against the black
we need is an all out strike on all who material of her thin jacket. With an
associate themselves in any way with animal swiftness, the woman slams
these sacrilegious revolutionary shut the car door and strides
movements. These heathens need to be purposefully towards the restaurant
eradicated, pure and simple. As a entrance.
responsible civilization, we can afford Now seemingly casting aside any
no alternative.‖ Connolly turns to me, pretences, Connolly signals a heads up
grey eyes impaling my soul upon icy to his two colleagues at the bar.
twin skewers. ―After all, if these filthy Deathly silence greets the young
lumps of subhuman slime see fit to woman as she marches to the bar and
mock the authority of God himself, sits herself four barstools along from
how can they ever be expected to Fat-face and Baldy. DeVanney,
submit to a rule of law, here or standing closer to the figure in black,
anywhere else?‖ He shakes his head regards her with the expression of one
gravely. ―This is a cancer, an unholy who inspects the sole of his shoe to
blight on our social order. We do not find it coated in dogshit. Alex the
treat cancer by attempting to bartender approaches awkwardly.
rehabilitate the disease. No, I‘m afraid ―Can I help you, Miss?‖
total and utter extermination is the For a prolonged moment the woman is
only…‖ silent, pausing to stretch her torso in a
lazily lascivious motion. The two

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Agents share a wordless glance. younger Agent‘s embarrassment. Alex
Connolly looks on, eyes alert, muscles the bartender makes to fix a lemon
taut. slice onto the glass when suddenly the
The back of the woman‘s jacket is woman breaks her silence.
emblazoned with the silhouette of a ―No, no, no Senor!‖ she speaks loudly
crow; its wings fluttering and talons and urgently, ―Tequila sólo. No limón,
outstretched, sharp bill poised to strike no hielo.‖ Then in a lower voice and
downwards. The few patrons at other conciliatory tone; ―Comprende?‖
tables are hushed, all eyes focused on It‘s clear that Alex comprehends not a
this enigmatic stranger. word but appreciates beyond doubt the
Finally one word falls out from behind woman‘s tone of voice. Gingerly, he
the thick curtain of black hair in a rich drops the tongs and the lemon slice,
oily voice: placing the glass in front of this dark
―Tequila.‖ The Latin inflection is outsider.
conspicuous. ―Gracias…‖ she eyes the name badge
Alex directs an apprehensive glance at which hangs at an askew angle upon
Connolly who nods permissively but the bartender‘s chest, ―Alex.‖
remains mute and still. As the ―No.. no problem,‖ the chinless youth
bartender goes about his clumsy stammers in return, ―Miss…?‖
business of pouring a shot, Fat-face ―Soledad.‖ The name rolls from the
winks at his balding colleague and unseen mouth in a fluid curl to drift
addresses the stranger in oafish tones. portentously upon the air, a harbinger
―Hello there, doll. How you doing?‖ of some unimagined catastrophe.
The young woman does not respond. At this psychic signal, Connolly
―Nice day, huh? That is if you don‘t pushes his chair back from the table
mind a grey sky and a bit of a breeze.‖ and stands, his face fixed in a resolute
He grins wide, displaying a fearsome expression, grey eyes pulsing now with
selection of large square teeth. malign anticipation.
The young woman says nothing. Soledad brings the freshly rolled
Frankie addresses me with a solemn cigarette to her lips and flicks an
expression and a nod so minimal it can antique lighter. The flame is at least
barely be detected. three inches tall, causing the nervous
This is the connection. This is it. Shit. Alex to flinch.
The buck stops here. Shit. Shit. Shit. There is a low hissing sound as Frankie
My right hand grips the handle of the inhales sharply, flexing his fuzzy
revolver tightly, the cold steel sending fingers.
an electric shiver through my bones. My index finger curls tightly around
Have to be ready… the revolver‘s trigger, the flat of my
The young woman at the bar retrieves thumb caressing the hammer.
a tobacco pouch and skins from a Follow the stray dog… Follow the
jacket pocket and begins rolling a stray dog…
cigarette. Fat-face peels a note from a leather
―Haven‘t seen you around here,‖ Fat- wallet and hands it to the bartender.
face continues, ―What brings you to ―That one‘s on me, Alex. And
this fine establishment?‖ anything else the lady wants, okay?‖
No response. He turns back to Soledad, his chubby
Clearly irked by now, Fat-face turns to cheeks aglow with a self-righteous
Baldy with an incredulous look. The sheen. The woman says nothing,
older man shrugs. Despite himself, merely fidgets with a black ashtray
DeVanney emits a low smirk at the upon the counter and exhales a thick

102
cloud of smoke which swirls in ―What‘s the matter, chica?‖ his tone is
baroque patterns under the bar‘s coarse and abusive, ―You no speak the
tungsten glow. The bartender accepts eengleesh?‖
the bill reluctantly and places it in the DeVanney, clearly tired of this
cash register. fruitless spectacle, unfolds his arms
―So chica, how about you slide along and takes a step towards Soledad.
here and keep a guy company, huh? ―Alright you piece of spic shit, I‘ve
These fellas are my friends and all but had about enough of this. Put out that
there‘s some things a guy can‘t get fucking cigarette and get your greasy
from his friends, you know? What say little ass out of here. Comprende?‖
you indulge me a little in your Latin Fat-face throws up a restraining hand.
tongue.‖ ―Hang on a sec there. I want to hear
Baldy snickers into his collar at this what this little whore has to say for
cheap innuendo, an absurdly juvenile herself. What‘s the beef, senorita? You
delight illuminating his grizzled scared of a little white meat, huh? Not
features. DeVanney does not even fucking slimy enough for you?‖
attempt to conceal his disgust; ―Jesus, Finally the woman answers in a calm
man. Have you no standards at all?‖ low voice. ―There more than plenty
Fat-face holds his arms out at his sides slime here in thees room, senor.‖
in a gimme-a-break gesture. ―Hey, ―Well, well… slut does have a mouth
street trash have needs too. Besides, I on her.‖
know you guys can keep a secret.‖ he ―Quite a fucking rude mouth too, eh?‖
winks lewdly at the maître d' and turns Fat-face‘s flabby brow trembles above
his attention back to Soledad who his brutish eyes.
continues to smoke unperturbed. ―So ―Someone ought to show the little
how about it, senorita? Little bit of bitch how to use it properly.‖ Connolly
trouser friendly lip service in exchange opines.
for all you can drink? Best offer you‘re ―That‘s what happens to these skanks,‖
going to get all week I reckon.‖ Baldy chimes in, ―Too many years of
Soledad says nothing. Smoke billows sucking on their filthy daddy‘s joints,
out in determined curls from the dark they lose all appreciation for the good
curtain of her hair. things in life.‖
The other diners shift uncomfortably. Two tables full of patrons rise from
A woman in an expensive floral dress their chairs, shuffling self-consciously
is pleading quietly with her male into their coats and jackets with
companion to pay their bill and leave resigned calls of ―Just put it on my tab,
but the man merely pats her arm DeVanney‖- ―I‘ll get you later, eh?‖ -
absently, transfixed by the drama ―You know I‘m good for it.‖ and file
unfolding at the bar. I am certain I can ceremoniously out of the restaurant,
detect a muted metallic click sounding leaving half-eaten lunches in their
from within Connolly‘s straining coat wake. The woman in the floral dress
pocket. tugs at her companion‘s arm but he is
Frankie sits rigid, eyes closed tight, mesmerized and clearly somewhat
teeth clenched. excited by this illicit spectacle of
Follow the stray dog… Follow the danger transpiring before him.
stray dog… stray dog… stray… At the bar, Fat-face erupts in forced
follow… follow.. laughter. ―Is that it? You save the
The weight of the woman‘s silence sweet stuff for your filthy spic daddy,
becomes unbearable. Fat-face‘s fat chica? Well, I reckon it‘s time for the
face sags, the smug smile retreating. paternal privileges to change hands. I

103
reckon today‘s the day you change Fat-face‘s features. The gun slips from
your diet and learn to appreciate a his fingers and lands with a dull thud at
good hunk of white beef.‖ He his staggering feet. A droplet of dark
approaches the silent woman with blood quivers, suspended from one
cruel intent. ―I‘ll be your fucking da-‖ nostril of the man‘s ruined nose, the
Without warning, Soledad brings a bone of which is now lodged firmly in
swift hand down from the bar counter his brain. He teeters on his heels for a
and clamps Fat-face‘s crotch in a tight moment, lips twitching in a final
grip. The man‘s face turns scarlet, eyes attempt to speak, before the eyes
wide in shock. Baldy spits out a flicker out and he falls backwards. The
surprised mouthful of vodka. Before dumb shit is dead before his flabby
any of the men can react, the woman carcass hits the floor.
withdraws her hand with surreal ―Jesus titty-fucking…‖ Baldy reaches
swiftness. Muttering in a mock to pull a gun from an inside pocket.
childlike voice, she wiggles her little Connolly strides forward, raising a
finger conspicuously. ―Aw. Demasiado heavy black pistol, closing in for a shot
malo. Mini salchicha, hm?‖ at Soledad.
Fat-face‘s lip trembles for a moment as
his stunned brain searches for the Follow…
words. They finally materialise in an
outburst of profanity as he pulls open Possessed suddenly by an alien force, I
his coat, producing a pistol from his am yanked forthrightly from my chair.
belt. ―You fucking filthy little bitch! My right arm stretches in front of me,
I‘ll show you something fucking the metallic sheen of the revolver
impressive, you shitty disease-ridden glinting in the afternoon light as the
whore!‖ barrel points itself at Connolly‘s back.
He raises the gun, pointing it at The ashtray strikes Baldy in the mouth
Soledad‘s forehead. Alex the bartender before he can level the gun. He recoils
whimpers and backs up against the with a muffled ―Mmmphh!!”, bringing
bottle display, his face assuming the his free hand up to his face. The
expression of a terror-stricken infant. ashtray drops to the floor and rolls
Fat-face is unrelenting. across the carpet to land at the feet of
―You had your fucking chance, slut! the woman in the floral dress who
You had the opportunity to be a good wails like a soprano. Connolly pauses
girl and take it nice. But now that mid-stride to take a shot. The revolver
you‘ve gone and insulted me like explodes in my hand, the kick jarring
this… here in front of my friends and my wrist bone painfully. Inches to
all… I‘m afraid we do it the old- Connolly‘s left, one of the aquarium
fashioned way. I‘m going to fucking tanks shatters, sending a rush of tepid
wreck you, you filthy whore. And water and brightly coloured tropical
when I‘m finished I‘m going to send fish flopping to the floor. Connolly
you back to fucking Mexico in fucking spins on his heel, swinging the pistol in
piec-‖ my direction. With bear-like vigour,
He doesn‘t get to finish the thought. In Frankie pulls the table on to its side;
a blur of speed, Soledad brings the plates, bottles and glasses crashing at
ashtray up in a sharp arc and smashes my feet. The blind man leaps behind
it with cruel force into Fat-face‘s the table top and pulls me down to the
bulbous nose. The report of impact floor with a heavy hand. Crouched
echoes across the restaurant with a there, I wince as Connolly‘s bullet
sickening crack. A blank look claims tears through the table less than an inch

104
above my head, tiny fragments of of fear, sobs with each explosion.
wood billowing through my hair. Soledad‘s weapon is an elegant silver
At the bar, DeVanney lunges at six-shooter which sparkles like a jewel
Soledad in an unthinking burst of in the electric light. She twirls it
anger and frustration; ―You fucking expertly in her nimble fingers and
filthy bitch! I‘ll fucking throttle…‖ In points the slender barrel at Baldy
a single graceful movement, Soledad whose eyes barely have time to register
bends her arms back, allowing the thin the weapon before Soledad‘s bullet
jacket to slip from her shoulders then tears through the hand still clamped
whips it outwards, enshrouding the across his already wounded mouth. He
maître d's spluttering face as his words is thrown backwards and stumbles into
degenerate into incomprehensible a puddle of aquarium water and
snarls. Baldy, one hand still clamped to dispelled fish, still flipping and
his bleeding mouth, raises his gun. flopping upon the carpet. His gun
Soledad yanks the jacket by the tumbles from his hand and discharges
sleeves, pulling DeVanney helplessly upon impact with the floor, ploughing
over the bar counter. Baldy‘s bullet a hole in the bar. Like the stricken
explodes against the maître d's back, a protagonist of a sadistic cartoon, Baldy
pop of scarlet fluid staining the white struggles to maintain his footing for a
shirt. Gargled screams of pain and few comical seconds before landing in
anguish are barely audible from within a crumpled heap against the wood-
the jacket shroud. panelled wall, spitting out shattered
Connolly turns his attention back to teeth and bloody shreds of gum.
Soledad. I scream a warning to her The woman in the floral dress and her
and, instinctively, she pulls back on male companion, now rethinking his
DeVanney‘s prone form, bending his excitement, scurry out of the restaurant
spine at an unnatural angle to shield on all fours like chastened curs.
herself with his torso. Connolly‘s Connolly staggers forward, raising his
bullet tears into the maître d's shoulder. pistol once more. ―You fucking freak
A fine spray of blood decorates the bar hybrid bitch! I‘ll send you to hell
counter, red droplets speckling where you...‖ Soledad releases the
Soledad‘s face. The young woman‘s injured and dazed DeVanney, his
eyes burn with a gorgeous canine fury incapacitated form falling from the
and she snarls the righteous snarl of a counter with an unceremonious thump.
vexed she-wolf. In a blur, the young woman produces a
My arm acting of its own volition once second six-shooter with her right hand
more, the revolver levels itself at and fires each weapon repeatedly and
Connolly and fires. The shot catches in stylish alternation. A salvo of bullets
him in the right forearm. He stumbles rips through Connolly‘s legs, tatters of
with a pained yelp, curling into himself ruined cartilage and shattered bone
as he clamps his free hand around the erupting from the torn trouser material.
wound. The Agent collapses backwards, his
Baldy makes to take another shot. upper body coming to rest upon the
Soledad pulls DeVanney‘s covered bed of the devastated fish tank, his
head upwards to shield her own, her ruined legs draped uselessly over the
left hand slipping behind her to pull a edge in a twisted wreckage. Stunned
gun from her belt. Baldy‘s shot and agonised, his cold grey eyes
ricochets off a beer tap to destroy a nonetheless continue to spit electric
display of spirit bottles. Alex the hate at Soledad. The woman fires
bartender, curled in a quivering mass another shot, striking a sharp sliver of

105
glass which hangs from the frame of The air is suddenly broken by an acute
the tank like a bloodthirsty stalactite. canine bark. The dog halts its advance
The shard falls and impales Connolly upon me and inclines its vigilant head
through the abdomen. The Agent‘s towards Soledad. The young woman
eyes widen with the impact, his open has crouched low to the floor,
mouth forming a perfect O. A dry assuming the attentive pose of a roused
croaking sound emanates from his feral creature. Her whole being seems
throat, the magnitude of his pain awash in a surreal haze of uncultivated
clearly inexpressible. beauty. A primal light gleams in her
Without warning, a door opens behind fathomless eyes, her bronze skin
the bar and the chef emerges; a burly affects a pelt-like sheen, every finely
moustachioed man with a madman‘s toned muscle stands rigid and taut
glare and a meat cleaver gripped in one from her tattooed arms to her proud
hand. Roaring bestially, the chef vaults chest where a bloodhound‘s heart
the bar. Soledad fires a shot which booms like thunder. Her lips curl back
catches him in the arm but does not in a gorgeous snarl, revealing jagged
slow him. white incisors and scarlet gums. The
On the floor, DeVanney stirs, his hand dog whimpers and recoils slightly.
finding Fat-face‘s discarded pistol. In Behind Soledad‘s crouched form, the
the same instant, Baldy - his face a wounded figure of DeVanney, head
bloody mask of agony - reaches to still enshrouded in the black jacket,
retrieve his own gun from the carpet. staggers to his feet, Fat-face‘s gun in
Hot on the heels of the chef, a large hand.
shaggy German Shepherd dog leaps ―Fuck me,‖ Frankie yells from the
from the kitchen and over the bar, other side of the room, ―A blind
snarling and slavering wildly. gunman. What next, eh?‖
Connolly fumbles with the shard in his DeVanney begins to fire in random
belly, attempting to remove it with directions, smashing bottles, glasses,
both hands. chairs and picture frames. A stray shot
My arm jolts once more and the strikes Connolly in the crotch. The
revolver fires a round into the chef‘s grey-eyed Agent drops his gun and
belly. The big man stumbles mid-stride emits a cry that is equal parts pain and
and crashes into Soledad. Prepared for frustration.
the impact, she wraps herself around ―You fucking moron! Below you!
the chef‘s weighty bulk, spinning him Shoot fucking down!‖
around towards Baldy who fires a shot. Soledad barks once more. The dog
The bullet smashes through the chef‘s turns with a savage growl and launches
forehead, killing the oaf instantly. An itself at Connolly.
instant too late, Baldy registers the ―Aaarrgghhh!!! What the fuck..?! Get
blade of the chef‘s cleaver coming this fucking beast away from me…!‖
down to meet him before it splits his DeVanney lowers the gun and prepares
skull open like a ripe watermelon. to fire a shot into the back of Soledad‘s
Soledad turns and notices the dog head. The revolver goes off in my hand
treading savagely towards me, a sending a round into the maître d‘s
ravenous madness in its dark eyes. In concealed face. An explosion of brain
the broken fish tank, Connolly has tissue bursts out from the jacket shroud
managed to extract the bloody shard and lands upon the bar counter in a
from his stomach. Hands dripping with soggy pile like red scrambled eggs.
gore, he fumbles for his gun. DeVanney‘s hooded figure collapses to

106
the floor in a twisted mess of human
wreckage.
―Gracias‖ Soledad whispers to me as
she rises to her feet, a six-shooter
twirling expertly in each lissom hand.
Connolly, immobile and helpless,
screams himself hoarse as the German
Shepherd burrows its strong jaws into
his gaping wound and proceeds to pull
out a reeking length of intestine. The
dog snaps up the malodorous organs
and dashes out of the door to trot
proudly down the street, as though
returning from a visit to a kindly
butcher, linkage of fresh sausage
swaying from the drooling jowls.

Soledad approaches the bar and raises

the still intact glass of tequila to her
lips, gulping it in one. Slamming the
glass down upon the counter, she peers
over the edge at the pathetic shape of
“Now why is the animal-self so self-
Alex the bartender, curled up and
destructive when it gets released in
frozen in mortal fright.
such a split person and embraced? 1.
―Encontrar un nuevo empleo, senor,‖
It is seeking to murder the tyrant;
she tells the terrified youth, pocketing
the ego, seeking to exterminate it,
her skins and tobacco, ―Este
send it into oblivion (hence their fear
establecimiento es oficialmente
that they are going into oblivion). 2.
condenado.‖
It has absolutely no compass to
In a final act of degradation, she pours
guide it, no link to „communicate
a pint of the cheap European lager and
data‟ on „how to do this the right
empties it over Connolly‘s dying head.
way‟ like an animal has. BOTH
―Saludos, amigo.‖
Akathartic and Ophionic types are
Silence claims the scene, the air heavy
considered „preta-rupa‟.
with the copper scent of blood and the
Pyhtagorean term; Thanatos. It is
tang of hot gun metal…
opposed to „Zoos‟ which means
biological. On a „higher level it is
We leave the restaurant burning behind
opposed to „Eros‟ (not erotic)
us, black smoke billowing into the
meaning „Love, of the Heart, Heart-
silver sky. Frankie sits grinning behind
felt‟. Pythagorean terms. Thanatos
the wheel of the Jensen, the swirling
os akin to a-biological. It doesn‟t
flames reflected magnificently in his
mean „dead‟. It means „dead-alive,
blind eyes.
having the instinct of „sex/death‟.
―Come on, get in the car. Let‘s go for
a drive somewhere.‖
(Tani Jantsang – „Akathartic and
Ophionic States Of Consciousness‟)

107
 IDENTITY future. But you are wondering
―What the fuck is a scientist
doing in the Paraphilia cloud?‖
By Doctor Paraphernalia
Well I am honoured, neigh
It‘s great to be at a birth. privileged, to be considered
sufficient a sciconoclast to
I would even say cathartic but I contribute to the constructive
would be mixing my metaphors demolition that the Paraphilia
and as a scientist I don‘t like to movement ascribes and aspires
do that. I do like to mix things to. In other places I describe
though and did a lot of that as a myself as a louche, Welsh,
chemist when I started life in eclectic polymath as that‘s easy
academia. I loved chemistry at to spit out between floors in an
senior school but then proceeded elevator conversation before
to hate it as an undergraduate and anyone can escape when the
proceeded to seek chemical doors mercifully open. That is
release by increasing my true and I do pretty much what it
understanding the nature of says on the tin. My credentials?
oblivion through personal Thirty years in the trenches of
experimentation. Quantum real world scientific endeavour
thermodynamics baffled me until and I have a lot to comment on
much later as I couldn‘t figure about trench foot…
out why it was of any use
describing the massive But not now.
complexity of biochemistry by
noodling with complicated Befitting a birth, the creation of a
equations describing a model new identity, I want to celebrate
consisting of a lonely hydrogen the freshness and anabolism of
atom. After all, though not Paraphilia. The scientific
strictly monogamous, hydrogen definition of anabolism is
is almost always happier in the basically the construction of
company of other atoms, mostly molecules (like our friends
incestuously with itself. It is hydrogen, oxygen, carbon and
never happier than in nitrogen) to construct the tickers
hydrocarbons and that‘s where it of life‘s metabolic pathways
led me. Cell Biology, from smaller atomic units.
Biochemistry, Physiology, Anabolism in a biochemical
Electrophysiology and eventually sense requires energy and I sense
wrapping it all up in silico as a a lot of hot molecules in
pharmaceutical Informatition. Paraphilia; currently discrete and
So, enough of my biography. I‘ll bouncing around one another
visit that periodically in the creating (and maybe destroying)
a substantial megamolecule. I

108
worked a lot with the energy Sciconoclast I may be, but I am
currency of metabolism, ATP; no prurient snitch when it comes
the biophysical interactions of to people. I am, however, happy
light with ‗life‘ and the to identify organizations,
electrophysiology of message establishments, institutions,
transduction at a cellular level processes, politicians, civil
but I‘ll leave that for another servants, scientists, artists,
time as I want to concentrate on theologians that are clearly not
today‘s Identity. similarly disposed.

I love physics, mathematics and So I guess you are all awash with
how that‘s all that really matters identity in terms of identity theft,
apart from my crusade in the fraud, deception, privacy,
public understanding of science confidentiality and the manifest
and my own personal experiment carelessness with it in the realm
in immortality which is why I of finance, commerce and
wanted to address myself to government. It‘s a different deal
birth, creation and identity at the in hospital as failure to uniquely
birth of Paraphilia. identify a patient may have dire
consequences. In fact the worst
Identity is discussed endlessly in cases of hacking have involved
philosophy more in the sense of theft of medical records in the
sameness and even belonging but US where it is now viewed as
today I am working with identity much of a marketing bonanza as
in my day job as a mathematical financial records. As health is
construct, not least who I am (or privately funded in the US,
you are), in a large complex primarily through insurance that
computing system in the UK is a big financial issue. It is not
National Health Service. theft but alteration of medical
Mathematical identity is more records that concerns me. There
precisely defined as an entity that are many recorded cases of
remains true (in a logical sense) medical record theft and
regardless of the values that thankfully few of medical record
appear within it. I was given the tampering.
‗get out of jail card‘ by my
esteemed editors of anonymity So to be fresh and expectant I
but I don‘t really need that as I thought I would include a page
quite like my identity. That said from my lab book today. I don‘t
there are contractual obligations work in a lab anymore but
(moral ones too) that mean I psychologically I have never
would never disclose ANY moved on and still sometimes
patient data that could in anyway call the office the lab. In the
identify them in a public forum. sense it is still very much a

109
‗thought kitchen‘ it is a lab. FUN and if it‘s not, like sex,
Another habit is I still keep a lab you‘re not doing it right.
book from the days I had a real
one. It‘s part of my obsessional Analysis
compulsive disorder/personality The server detects the attack
which is a really good thing to from the root ASP application
have if you are a scientist. It can (i.e. itself) so it too has an
be a particularly bad thing to identity problem as well as me!
have if you are a scientist, like Although I haven‘t included the
me, where it can lead you down error log it spewed out, ASP
paths to oblivion and sometimes declared itself to the Framework
over the edge. Statistically not to be. Proudly announcing
though on average it‘s great itself to itself as: Microsoft .NET
being in my skin at the moment. Framework
Version:1.1.4322.2407;
From the lab book…<insert or ASP.NET
panel?> Version:1.1.4322.2407. OK they
can track it back to me via the
Is the lab book science? Yes. But originating IP address of the
what makes it science is a debate client but they don't need to. As I
for later articles. It is science said, I am trying to establish my
because: unique ID and have given them
It is real my credentials freely in the post.
It is technical - from an identity To do that though I then had to
management technical viewpoint edit it to make it look like
It is technical and funny because English and not pseudocode at
I used pseudocode do point out all, which sort of made it less fun
the irony of multi-identities! but they definitely know who I
The .Net ASP (Active Server am now though I still don‘t know
Page or small highly venomous who NHS Careers are… yet!
snake) BIT my post as it thought
it was a cross-site scripting attack You may find my contributions
<laffs out completely fucking written in the passive voice
loudly> Not bad though, as my irritating. That‘s what scientists
pseudocode is valid scripting do. You may find bits too
syntax FOR <each> {here} ins... technical. Sorry as I am here to
But for what interpreter or remove scientific obfuscation as I
compiler?? Bottom line it‘s good hope many of the artists will in
heuristic security. terms of the written word, visual
image, sculpture and sound.
Now here's the fun bit, and yes
science and experimentation is I am expectant and nervous like I
was as a father at the birth of

110
each of my offspring (without the SQL, Oracle, Novel Netware and
broken waters dripping down my Microsoft Active Directory. AD
leg whilst driving to hospital and SQL should use the same
thankfully). authorization schema, that of the
NOS otherwise why have AD at
So it‘s great to be here for the all?
new identity; its good to be here
as me with my identity… 10:00- am Very large data
tadpole created in Excel. Data
Labor over. Ego satiated. too large for Excel data space
(again). Now obvious that a BI
Dr. P. solution is needed, but its
happening…. Think contractor
Disclaimer: The opinions of this not strategist and it doesn‘t really
article are the opinions of this matter whether it‘s Cognos or
writer. They are not the opinions Business Objects so long as it‘s
of my employers, nor in any way one of them and not some half
does any of this information arsed lipstick-on-the pig Excel
reflect the opinion of my variant. Report delivered, wait
employers or people associated for feedback.
with me including the editors Wait …
probably.
Sort out Identity management
and my credentials in
LABORATORY NOTEBOOK employment. Contact NHS
19TH fEBRUARY 2009 Careers online.

online form begin

9:00am Late start. Need to finish
18Week RTT PTL for Non Hi NHS Careers,
Admitted Patients (1/1/2007 –
current) Resolved identity issues I am currently contracting in the
for access to East Kent lookup NHS (via NHS Professionals) so
tables by John granting me SQL will use those credentials for now
server rights to the PAS. but it raises a burning issue in my
Anachronistic and quaint as I still mind of identity management in
need to sign and have the NHS (lets stick with the
countersigned a paper document. context of staff and careers just
Old security is the best security. for now as the whole
Single sign on is still a bit of a patient/provider/carer issue is
holy grail in the NHS as there it equally as complex)
no pragmatic single sign on
across authentication domains of

111
In that narrow context I seek <--- esig obfuscated for
careers {here}: Paraphilia --->
http://www.nhscareers.nhs.uk/ Where is the knowledge we have
lost in information?
I seek jobs {here}:
http://www.nhsprofessionals.nhs.
uk/ (my current employers)

or {here}:
http://www.jobs.nhs.uk/ (where I
GOT my current job)

or {here}:
http://www.hsjjobs.com/

FOR <each> {here}

instaniate <new_ref_id>
inc <same basic details>
var <job specific details>

GOTO FOR .TRUE.

http://www.another.new.NHS.job
site.found/

A colleague somewhat cheekily

suggested the N in NHS is silent
and whilst it is BIG and identity
management is a BIG issue in T.S. Eliot The Rock (1934).
operational terms, don't you think
a central clearing house would be If your email is a request for
an idea? I don't necessarily mean information under the Freedom
a single repository but at least of Information Act 2000, please
common standards to allow a forward it to <---deleted ---
federated market place for job >@ekht.nhs.uk who will action
seekers and job providers. your request.'
Perhaps www.hsjjobs.com is
already doing that by 'harvesting' online form end
the other sites? I'm not saying
they are, or that is the solution,
but if that IS what they are doing Wait…
- good on 'em! Dave,

Regards

112
Some nerdy stats aimed at the (.39 x ASL) + (11.8 x ASW) –
‗averge‘ American reader  15.59
Tony
where:
Passive sentences – 2% yippee ASL = average sentence length
really low! I am free of the (the number of words divided by
scientific idiom of writing and the number of sentences)
writing as ME! ASW = average number of
Flesch Reading Ease – 46.4 – syllables per word (the number of
sorry it‘s a tougher than average syllables divided by the number
read – tough you‘re all grown of words)
ups 
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level –
11.1 - you need to be an older kid
to stomach this 

Flesch Reading Ease score

Rates text on a 100-point scale;

the higher the score, the easier it
is to understand the document.
For most standard documents,
aim for a score of approximately
60 to 70.

The formula for the Flesch

Reading Ease score is:
206.835 – (1.015 x ASL) – (84.6
x ASW)

Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level

score

Rates text on a U.S. grade-school

level. For example, a score of 8.0
means that an eighth grader can
understand the document. For
most standard documents, aim
“Every Science is a mutilated
for a score of approximately 7.0 octopus.”
to 8.0.
(Charles Fort)
The formula for the Flesch-
Kincaid Grade Level score is:

113
 SOUNDS ABOUND what I do hope is that this publication
will allow a space to showcase the
variety of music styles, many of which
By Kate MacDonald
still fall between the proverbial cracks.
Part of what‘s presented is a reflection
There is a lot of music around today.
of my own taste. Many years working
It‘s strange, because the sounds one
in ―alternative‖ radio, off-kilter clubs
can hear over the radio (or however
and being surrounded by people of a
people generally absorb pop music
similar mindset have pushed my own
now, since I don‘t think anyone
listening to a range that most people
actually listens to the radio any more
consider extreme. But what I‘m aiming
unless it‘s pumped through the
for here is not to convert people to
telephone system in their office) are
listening to what I like. I hope that
more limited, more homogenous, than
what‘s communicated is a personal
ever. That top layer of sediment, which
passion for the diversity of music that
accounts for the vast majority of
continues to flourish, just out of sight.
―popular‖ music has never been more
This passion is common to all the
carefully honed into a media product,
people who‘ve contributed to this
has never been more manipulated to fit
section and reflects the belief that there
into specific marketing streams,
is still plenty to be excited about in the
targeting a specific niche and yet there
world of music. The idea here is
is more music being made that falls
simply to push open a few doors to see
outside the parameters of the pop
what happens and to illuminate some
paradigm than ever.
of the paths available on the
overgrown and sometimes intimidating
I feel lucky, because I grew up in the
forest that is the world of music.
eighties, the one time when it was
really easy to be aware of music that
With more people involved in music-
was happening outside the confines of
making than at any point in history,
the top 40. Once you know that people
and with access to a diversity of music
whose songs don‘t get played on the
greater than ever, there is no excuse to
radio are there, it becomes second
listen to anything bland, to anything
nature to always look beyond what‘s
that doesn‘t provoke a reaction.
happening on the surface and try to stir
up some of the more interesting muck
underneath. And there‘s never been
more to stir. Advances in technology
mean that music-making is no longer
MY LIFE AS AN
the purview of the technical wizard AUDIENCE
whose parents bought him a guitar for
his ninth birthday, or the one who By Kate MacDonald
suffered through untold years of trying
to learn Moonlight Sonata on the piano One of the things that you notice about
until she figured how to do something most people who are really dedicated
different with her musical skills. music fans is that most of them either
start out as or eventually become
It would be jejune to think that one musicians. I know lots of people who
magazine could possibly cover the are into music and almost all of them
gamut of music that‘s available to are involved somehow in making
those who seek something beyond music. I think that there‘s been a
what‘s commonly available. However, gradual lowering of the barriers to

114
being a music maker in the last twenty As energetic and passionate as I feel
years. With the passage of time, it about music, my role tends to be one of
becomes easier for individuals to passive receiver rather than creator.
afford the tools that they need in order That‘s an odd position to be in with
to dabble their toes in the waters of something you really love. I‘m
musical experimentation. constantly evaluating the skills and
performances of people whose talents I
admire, knowing that, as "informed" as
I like to think my opinion is, I could
never put my money where my
proverbial mouth is.

In recent months, I seem to have gone

to a lot of shows, either of my own
volition, or because I knew people who
were going and felt like being social. I
even helped organise one in Toronto
before decamping for Montréal. These
shows have ranged from straight-ahead
indie rock to some pretty harsh noise/
power electronics. The venues have
ranged in size from tiny boites barely
able to accommodate a couple of
dozen to places capable of holding an
audience of a couple of thousand. (For
various reasons, you're unlikely to ever
see me in anything larger than that.)

(Wire- Montreal, October 5, 2008)

Interestingly, that leaves people like

me as a bit of an endangered species:
Those who have a passion for music
that extends over a range of years
beyond that time of life when one is
supposed to show an interest in music.
(That time would be the period in
one‘s teenaged years, possibly
extending into the early twenties, when
one is still free of adult obligations and
is therefore disposed form links
between an idyllic time of emerging
individuality and its contemporary
soundtrack.) Those who stay interested
in music beyond early adulthood are
more and more often inclined to make
the jump from consumer to producer,
in order to give their interest a more
active role in their life. (Nebris, Toronto, June 19, 2008)

115
Determining what makes a good show couple of vocals props to those near
is tricky. Great sound helps. (My the front of the stage).
Bloody Valentine in Toronto on my
birthday was one of the best shows On the other side of the spectrum,
I‘ve ever seen and the experience was Taint performing in Toronto last July
undoubtedly enhanced by the power of as one, where an absolute refusal to
the sound.) It‘s sort of a given that, the interact can create an interesting
closer the sound coming out of the dynamic- making the artist appear less
P.A. resembles that which the approachable, more distant (despite, in
musicians are trying to create, the more the case of that show, being only a few
enjoyable the show is. A dense, multi- feet removed from the audience). The
layered sound is a lot harder to effectiveness of audience interaction is
appreciate when you hear it often dictated by the general
compressed to a flat, atonal hum. atmosphere of the music. If Taint had
been chatty, had invited the audience
Some artists can overcome substandard to ask him questions (as entertaining as
sound with energy. (Noise artists, some of those questions might have
almost invariably relegated to playing been, it would have detracted from the
shows through sound systems less show- a music style built on tension
powerful than my home stereo, can and confrontation- considerably.
pull this off.) A recent experience of
this for me was seeing Montreal locals
Hyena Hive performing at the tiny (but
mighty) Casa del Popolo. The venue is
a godsend for fringe artists, but, like
many small venues with limited
resources, its sound system leaves
something to be desired. However,
Hyena Hive still managed to deliver a
brutal, aggressive, entertaining
performance that overcame the sound
limitations.

Human-scale interaction (i.e., not just

shouting randomly into the crowd, but
actually trying to connect with them)
can add to the feeling of being
somewhere special. Wire, who played
here in October, were charming on this
level, despite seeming a little off their
game technically. Shellac actually (Taint, Toronto, July 26, 2008)
invited the audience to ask them
questions to pass the time, prompting Since there is undoubtedly a visual
an interesting sort of dialogue that element to a live show, putting some
would seem antithetical to the effort into making some type of visual
performer/ audience dynamic. The Bug statement (particularly for artists where
seemed almost literally to be drawing there is little action on stage) can help
energy reserves from the excitement of build a unique live "experience" My
their audience (and even incorporated a Bloody Valentine had a stunning light
show, albeit with a budget beyond the

116
dreams of most musicians. On a know what it is, but I can tell it when I
smaller scale, Pram, Nebris and see it. Even among audience members,
Visions all augmented a fairly sedate there can be some debate over when
performance with visuals that gave this has occurred. Shows that I
flesh to the sounds. remember as being among the best I‘ve
ever seen seemed to leave others
These are some of the tools that are at unimpressed.
the disposal of the artist in a live
environment. But ultimately, what However, I do find that those artists
defines a great live show experience is who are able to build a reputation on
a sort of energy, something I‘ll their live shows are generally ones
describe as a symbiosis between artist who have found a way to tap into a
and audience. If you don't believe me, desire in the audience not merely to be
think back to shows where the entertained, but to approach the
audience has been uninspired by what boundary between artist and fan.
they saw (not antagonised, but simply
left cold). I guarantee that it was a bad I may never be a musician (really, I‘d
show for all involved. Without actually rather stick to writing anyway), but the
giving them creative control over the best experiences I have at live shows
sounds, a great live show bridges the still make me feel like a participant-
gap between artist and audience, observer, rather than simply a receiver.
making the audience more than just And the possibility of that happening is
passive listeners and transforming their why I‘m happy to continue as an
role into a key part of what happens on audience member, without making the
stage. leap to being a musician, until I‘m too
deaf to know what's going on.
Unfortunately, defining this state may
cause me to fall back on the cliché of Photographs by Kate MacDonald
the redneck trying to define art- I don‘t

(Stereolab, Montreal, October 7 2008)

117
 THE ACCIDENTAL some instruments, we have recording
equipment... let's record whatever
DADAISTS comes into our heads. The very first
Niellerade session I mention was a minidisc
Fallibilisthorstar connected to two condenser mics set
up inside a large room and it was filled
interviewed with xylophones, percussion allsorts,
half-broken 80s synths etc., and me
By Kate MacDonald and Gustav started recording, and went
on for 56 minutes without a word.
They aren‘t exactly a household name
(there aren‘t that many households that KM: What exposure had you had to
can pronounce their name), but experimental or noise music before
Swedish artists Niellerade that, if any?
Fallibilisthorstar have quietly been
building a following through the PS: Me, virtually none.
internet over the last few years. This
interview was conducted with band NJ: I'd like to remark that it really
members Petter Sundlof [PS] and didn't start off as a noise project. I
Niklas Janlert [NJ] in 2007, just before think it lasted at least.. three-four
the release of their album recordings before it started turning out
―Skrankverk‖. like that.

KM: The first thing I‘d like to ask is KM: How would you characterise that
that you just give some basic details on original sound?
the history of the band- how long
you've been together, how you came to PS: The earlier session were far more
work together, etc. conceptually structured, whereas we've

PS: Three of us (me, David and

Gustav) formed the band some time in
2001.
I need to ask you Niklas, 'cause my
memory is dim here -- when did you
get into the picture?

NJ: After the first recording, I believe.

PS: At least the very first recording

session, at a municipal music school
full of weird orchestra instruments
consisted of me and Gustav.

KM: And what was it that made you

decide to start making music in that moved to more looser forms now.
place?
KM: And what was it that made you
PS: Well, we were all old friends, most move to a "noisier" sound?
from early school and there wasn't
really any thoughts beyond: Here are

118
PS: Well, I think it was quite PS: I think we've been to most
pragmatic... industrial sites in our vicinity.

NJ: The concepts didn't work. NJ: As well as out in the woods, of
course.
PS: We weren't able to record [in the
original location] anymore. We had PS: Yes, the opening track of our first
only limited access to it through a album was recording in a marsh. We
relative. Original sound, then: A bunch also had a fire burning there, which
of retards freeforming on orchestral provided an excellent ambience to the
instruments? ...Trying their best to recording. We generally like
destroy them if possible. combining organic sounds with the
sounds of decayed industry.
One track, "Ankommande", was
recorded during a 50 minute walk in
the snow. The original track was cut
down to circa 22 minutes for the first
CD. One of us held a stereo mic and I
think all five of us walked around, not
saying a word for those fifty minutes.

NJ: Again, mixed with some

NJ: Some sort of musical dadaism, recordings from an industrial site. We
perhaps. had a huge oil tank in it, I remember.

Petter Sundlöf says: (4:12:43 PM) KM: You had a bit of a change of
PS: We‘ve moved to outdoors sound or approach with your album
recordings but also at the same time ―Skrankverk‖.
incorporated stuff like electric bass,
some keyboards. PS: I think it's far more consistent
(quality-wise). But it's broadening the
KM: I understand that you use a lot of sound beyond the first two albums.
"found" instruments as well- scrap There are some harder "industrial"
metal and such? tracks, some vocal ones... and some
with predominant keyboards in there.
PS: Yes. Many of the recordings center
around what's available.We start by NJ: And we returned indoors for a few
scouting various recording locations of the tracks.

KM: Do you keep the instruments after KM: What made you decide to
you're finished recording with them? incorporate the keyboards, or give
them a larger role?
PS: Generally, no.
NJ: There was a general consensus in
NJ: It's pretty much site-bound, but we the group that we should go back into a
often return to certain locations. more studio-like setting, since
basically, we hadn't done anything
KM: Can you give a few examples of since we lost access to the music class
the sites that you've used? room mentioned earlier.

119
PS: Yes, but I think it's not entirely
reflective of the album. For example,
the first track, Räfst, was recorded at
an abandoned bakery. A majority of
the stuff dates back to 2004
and 05, some 06. Our 8cm (mini) CD
"Dom" (one long track) actually has…
more recent material.

KM: Were you looking for an outlet to

release it [Skrankverk] for a long
time?

PS: It was supposed to come out on

Audiobot/Freaks End Future, but that
didn't pan out, and [Dystonia] had KM: You've received some really
expressed interest to do a release with glowing praise, often comparing you to
us earlier, which was actually already the likes of Nurse With Wound,
planned -- it was supposed to be Organum and The New Blockaders.
entirely new records. All albums Yet you said that you really weren't
hitherto has been on different labels. influenced by acts like that- or even
Our first album was released on THR, familiar with them when you started?
a Swedish metal label.
PS: Of those bands, I'm only familiar
KM: You also worked with the SNSE with Nurse with Wound, and slightly.
label for ―Halrum‖.
NJ: Mm.. No, there's no influence on
PS: Yes, Pat is a great guy, his label is me, at least.
fantastic.
PS: When we started, we were pretty
KM: Would you like to align yourself much isolated from any scene.
with one label? or you hoping to work
with many as you go on? KM: Do you feel that, in the reviews
you've seen, the people reviewing your
PS: I'm not sure. I think there's at least music really understand what it is
a possibility or reconnecting with you're doing?
SNSE if they're interested, for future
albums or Dystonia. Whoever gets us PS: I don't think there's anything to
the prettiest groupies in the dressing understand.
room. We will hopefully also continue
to do DIY releases. NJ: But on the other hand.. the reviews
i've read haven't been trying to figuring
KM: I was surprised when i was doing anything out, either.
some internet searches at how much
info there is on you- many reviews, PS: To me, it's there. It's what
mentions on forums, etc. happened during the recording (and in
some cases overdubs)...
PS: Oh. we'd like to see many more
reviews, I don't think we're spoiled NJ: I think the reviewers have taken it
with them. as.. an emotional assault, which I think

120
we've been aiming for- well.. at least PS: Personally I'd like to something
I‘ve been aiming for it.- so I‘m happy. very different from these three albums.
I don't know different how, yet.
KM: A number of the reviews i saw
seemed "confused" by your sound.
Any thoughts as to what would
confuse them (other than the
pronunciation of your band name)?

PS: Well, it's not exactly "hard

noise".We have quite a bit of very
mellow, sparse sections

NJ: Maybe the lack of scene-context is

confusing?

KM: Do you have any plans to perform

live in the next little while?

PS: I don't think it's very likely we

will. We were invited to quite a large
festival in the south of Sweden- Nya
Perspektiv. Fred Frith has played there.
But we didn't feel we could do a good
enough job live.

KM: That's interesting, considering

that live elements seem so important in
your music recording. REVIEWS
NJ However.. we can cut down a 40
Reviewers: Kate MacDonald
minute recording session to a 10
minute song. That's not really feasible [KM], Dominic Marceau [DM],
when it comes to a live performance. Kristian Carter [KC]

PS: Yes, editing can be pretty harsh on

the source materials. But the live
elements... it's quite a private event. It
would not remain the same in front of
an audience.
We did play live once, at the 11/9 Live
Aktion here in Umeå.

KM: So what are you planning for the

future?

PS: It'll have to be a bit of a departure,

I think.

KM: In what way?

121
Human Greed :: Black Hill:
Midnight at the Blighted Star
Lumberton Trading Company
(www.lumbertontradingcompany.com)

One look at the packaging for the latest

Human greed album gives you the
sense that it‘s going to be difficult to
define. The artwork hovers in an
oneiric realm, elements of childlike
fantasy and nightmarish anxiety side
by side- freezing a moment of balance
between the two.

The music, likewise, possesses parts

which are pure, delicate beauty and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart ::
others that sound as ominous as a S/T
North Atlantic storm, one flowing Slumberland/ Fortuna Pop
uninterrupted into the other, dream and (http://www.thepainsofbeingpureathear
nightmare chasing each other through t.com)
airy space. Much like describing a
dream to someone when you‘re awake, I promised myself I would never do
it‘s difficult to find the proper terms to this. This Public Enemy fan never
convey what‘s going on here. believed ―The Hype‖. But every other
blogger, music critic, and coffee shop
It‘s too easy to fall back on the over- patron I met praised NYC neo-dream
used term ―ambient‖ to describe this pop outfit ―The Pains of Being Pure at
music, just because of its lack of Heart‖ (a candidate for the ―Worst
rhythms and because it is decidedly not band name in history‖). So, I
―noise‖. However, ambient music is swallowed my pride and I gave them a
supposed to be exactly that- discreet listen. Ever have a profound feeling of
background sound that serves as an déja vu? Well, in this case, it‘s more a
unobtrusive soundtrack in any feeling of ―déja entendu‖…
environment. This is not ambient in
that sense, as the music would be both I‘d been aware of a resurgence of
distracting and, at certain points, NYC-based neo-shoegaze bands
unnerving for any listener. coming out of the woodwork, ten years
after the untimely death of this oft-
About the closest comparison point I praised subgenre. Bands like A Place
can come up with are the instrumental to Bury Strangers, Dirty on Purpose,
sections of more recent Curret 93 and Asobe Seksu have all been praised
material (although there are vocals on beyond belief for their wall of sound.
the album, including a guest But none have received more praise
appearance by David Tibet), which is than ―The Pains of Being Pure at
in itself a separate universe of sound. Heart‖, whose eponymous release,
A mix of electronic and acoustic, their first album after a string of EP‘s
instrumental and poetic, light and dark, and singles, feels like a really good
what emerges is an unquestionably Chapterhouse or Slowdive record. But
beautiful and haunting whole. [KM] don‘t get me wrong: this isn‘t
necessarily a bad thing. The songs are

122
cute as Hell- ―Come Saturday‖ and gloomy haze. Montreal artists Chapelle
―Everything With You‖ are definite Nitrique could not have found a better
standouts (Both available for free home for Piggi, their debut full-length.
download on the band‘s website). It‘s The album churns through its five
really well crafted, the ethereal sound tracks, the overwhelming murk
textures are all on the money, and the choking, but never entirely silencing
boy/girl vocals actually work. But what sound like voices, radio
we‘ve heard this all before. Listening transmissions or sometimes even
to ―The Pains of Being Pure at Heart‖ rhythmic pulses buried under its heavy
only made me want to listen to all cloak.
those fantastic bands that made 4AD
and Creation Records the stuff of The sound bears a certain resemblance
legends. They say: ―You can never go to film work, notably the classic
back‖. That‘s why this album feels like soundtrack to Eraserhead, in that it
it was recorded by a really good cover seems to invite a visual component.
band. But for less than 35 minutes, Another comparison point might be a
you‘ll smile. A little. Then, you‘ll less noisy variant of the early Brighter
forget all about it. [DM] Death Now sound- hefty, suffocating,
disconcerting. Put on a pair of
headphones, close your eyes and try to
imagine what the movie looks like.
[KM]

Chapelle Nitrique :: Piggi

Bone Structure (bone-
structure.blogspot.com)
Doornen :: AIDS Loves you to Death
Sometimes, the key to making music Scrape Tapes
that has real atmosphere is not to make (http://www.myspace.com/scrapetapes)
it too clean- to allow the muddy,
scratchy qualities of home-fi recording Very much ―old school‖ noise, in the
to permeate the sounds, rather than vein of Merzbow or Incapacitants.
succumbing to the temptation to apply ―AIDS Loves you to Death‖ is a 3‖
a digital polish to bring out the CDEP featuring two tracks of full-
underlying detail. frequency noise. The first track- the
title track- plays with the volume
Bone Structure, a fairly new but levels a little, withering to a dull roar
prolific Belgian label, specializes in midway through before storming back
purveying music that retains a certain for an encore. The second track is a

123
full-on assault, a test for speakers and Content Nullity :: Rotting Walls of
neighbours alike. [KM] Decaying Sound
Scrape Tapes
(http://www.myspace.com/scrapetapes)

Definitely the most varied of the three

Scrape Tapes releases sent for review.
(I suppose this may be related to the
fact that there are five tracks, rather
than just two.) Content Nullity show
that they can pull off a straight noise
sound, with the early parts of the EP
being thick and resonant… like aural
molasses. The last two tracks show that
CN has a wider range, though. The
fourth track on the EP (―Burning
Bright White Sun‖) sounds like a
shortwave radio being boiled, while
Kave :: Hidden Fields the final track (―Volt Millipede‖) has a
Scrape tapes looped, almost hypnotic sound that
(http://www.myspace.com/scrapetapes) recalls the best parts of Lull, around
the time of ―Dreamt About Dreaming‖.
Spooky and restrained electronics, [KM]
along the lines of American act Burial
Hex, or perhaps like Chemical Bride-
era PGR. This 3‖ CD stands out among Escuadron de la Muerte :: Hic,
the releases on Scrape because of its Inquit, Debes Habitare
avoidance of straight-ahead noise and Strength Through Awareness
because of its cleaner sound. The first (www.stab.webden.co.uk)
track is a real standout, with bits of
slightly deranged organ drifting Hailing from Mexico, Escuadron de la
through the atonal mist midway Muerte (Death Squad) could not sound
through. [KM] more at home on Britain‘s Strength
Through Awareness label. Their music
is heavily influenced by the likes of
Grey Wolves, Anenzaphalia and
others, blending super-saturated
frequencies with rhythmic loops and
distorted fragments of classical and
military band music.

Even by the standards of a genre that is

not known for it‘s peppy optimism,
this release seems particularly weighty,
deliberately makes itself a challenge to
listen to in a single sitting. Perhaps it‘s
because the impact of some early
power electronics was muted by the
artists‘ reliance on sub-standard
recording technology, leaving even

124
pristine vinyl copies of albums like the
Wolves‘ ―Age of Dissent‖ sounding
vaguely like an eighth generation
cassette dub (which, to be fair, may
well have been on purpose). Escuadron
de la Muerte take full advantage of the
recording quality available to them,
meaning that the album hits at full
throttle from the beginning.

The album gives a couple of moments‘

pause for the listener to catch their
breath, but they are few and, as the
album progresses, farther and farther
between. And even those can be
disconcerting, because of the nature of Japanese noise supremo Merzbow is
the sounds used. By the end, the effect not someone who you would often tie
is like you‘ve been pummelled. in with the words ambience or even
restraint, however Masami Akita has
To give an idea of the effect, imagine found solace in the age old adage "less
that you‘ve accidentally been trapped is Sometimes more" on this hauntingly
underneath the sidewalk. It doesn‘t beautiful triple vinyl release from UK
matter how you got there, what matters label Dirter Promotions.
is that you awaken to find yourself
trapped in a very dark place, with very He is joined in This two and a half
little oxygen, the sounds of the world hour sonic excursion by French
permeating, but muffled and distorted Guitarist Richard Pinhas of Heldon. I
through layers of cement. Now was only aware of Heldon as
imagine that somehow, your cries for Komische style acid rockers from the
help have been heard and people have late seventies early eighties, it seems
arrived to liberate you. Only in order to however that Richard Pinhas has a
do this, they have to break up your discography that is almost as daunting
concrete tomb with a large as merzbow both in Breadth and width.
jackhammer. It‘s hyperspeed pounding
encompasses your entire world and, Anyone expecting a coruscating blast
although you‘re pretty sure (barring of noise is in for a very big suprise
any accidents) that you‘ll emerge at the indeed.
end, it‘s very difficult to concentrate
on anything but what that sound is Recorded over the space of two days in
doing to your whole body, not just Tokyo and then mixed in Paris these
your hearing. When you come out of six sides of vinyl
the dark again, you have the sense that showcase Pinhas almost Derek Bailey
you‘ll be feeling the reverberations esque guitar works blending into a
long after the ordeal has ended. [KM] wave of almost ambient electronics
and low key beats from Merzbow that
Richard Pinhas & Merzbow :: Keio twist together like an electrical serpent
Line thrashing back and forth in ever
Dirter Promotions (www.dirter.co.uk) decreaasing arcs.

Named after the Keio underground line

125
in Tokyo it seems as if both musicians
have managed to somehow harness the
electricity and the speed of the system
and convert it into an audio sculpture
of majestic beauty and power.

Pinhas heavily flanged guitarwork

hangs in the air like a cloud of smoke
or dust in an underground tunnel whilst
distant waves and pulses of noise
dance across the clouds of sound
almost like electricity that is flowing
through the power lines........................

When Merzbow uses beats and rhythm

it is if the underground tunnels are since I discovered them back around
faintly vibrating with the sound of a the turn of the millennium. Their sound
distant train hurtling away into the is fiendishly difficult to pin down,
darkness. blending elements of Mediterranean
folk, lounge, Tom Waits-style
I was fortunate to visit Tokyo last year experimentation, tango rhythms and a
and amongst the chaos and confusion peculiar romanticism that invites the
of this Bustling metropoplis there is listener to engage emotionally with the
sometimes late at night and early into music.
the mornings a sense of strange
otherworldy calm that falls across its As of December 31st, 2007, Novy Svet
neon soaked streets and empty subway ceased existence and the world is
line platforms. poorer for it, so Todas Las Ultimas
Cosas is the sweet kiss goodnight from
Pinhas & Merzbow have somehow their strange and wonderful world. As
managed to capture those fleeting a final transmission, the album is an
moments of stillness where only the interesting departure from what has
technology hums to itself as if in some gone before. Far from the florid, wine-
kind of alien language almost inaudible soaked melodies of their Hau Ruck
to the human ear. period and equally removed from the
more elemental, stripped down work of
In doing so they have created a work later years, the band chooses to say
of immense beauty and haunting goodbye with a glimpse of what might
stillness. [KC] have been a new direction. (This is a
strange ploy for any artist. About the
only other example I can think of
Novy Svet :: Todas Las Ultimas offhand is Swans coming out with
Cosas Soundtracks for the Blind before
Treue Um Treue (www.tutrur.com/) calling it quits in the mid-to-late-
nineties.)
I will take virtually any opportunity to
pontificate on the underappreciated Todas Las Ultimas Cosas eschews the
genius that is Novy Svet. They‘ve acoustic instrumentation of previous
ranked among the most consistently albums in favour of electronics. The
fascinating artists I‘ve come across music veers closer to flexi-pop style

126
minimalism on the surface, but the by ourselves, to have the design and
underlying structure is pure Novy Svet. everything else under our control.
The melodic structures have the same Furthermore we wanted to give a
hallmarks of previous releases, the chance to talented and allied musicians
same indefinable quirkiness that makes to become released on this new label,
their other releases so enchanting. too.

Novy Svet are often lumped in with Galakthorroe tends to release very few
artists in the neo-folk genre, more, I albums (compared to some other
think, because of past associations than labels). Would you like to have a
anything to do with their music. By greater output, or are you happy with
removing the more ―folksy‖ things the way they are?
instrumentation, this album provides a
perfect opportunity to see what it is We're happy with everything we do,
that made this band unique. [KM] indeed, and even if we'd like to have
more released sometimes, it's clear on
the other hand, that there's not so much
great music for our taste, which is
TWO LABEL PROFILES good enough to be released.
We hold a high standard for the music
we release, doesn't matter if it's our
By Kate MacDonald
own project's output or the music of
our artists.
Label Profile: Galakthorrö
We don't want to clog the scene with
releases which are questionable in
Web: galakthorroe.de
quality.
Founded: 1993
How do you select artists to be on
Galakthorroe?
Location: Braunschwieg
(Brunswick), Germany
We presume to release just and only
the music we personally like.
Owner(s): Mr. and Mrs. Arafna
We get lots of applications for a
release which are done carelessly - we
Releases to Date: 22
don't take a look on impersonal bulk
applications, we don't download mp3's.
Most recent release: November
Novelet :: Sacred 7‖ and Hermann
Are there any particular artists you
Kopp ―Under a Demon‘s Mask‖ LP &
would be interested in working with?
CD
Granted, there are several good artists
What was it that originally made you
we appreciate, but there's no one
want to start a record label?
special we could name here.
When we started to make music and
You recently started an MP3 shop.
finished our first work for Haus
What made you decide to do that?
Arafna, the "Sex-U-mas" EP 7", we
even didn't thought about the
Until we opened our mp3 store there
possibility to apply for a release at an
wasn't any legal way to download our
already existing label.
music. Various people and companies
It was kind of clear for us to release it

127
took advantage of this situation and with FD. Since LTCo started, though,
offered or sold the songs of our label Hassni has left the label, leaving me to
without any permission. now operate two labels whilst
So, we wanted to satisfy the demand refraining from blurring the edges
for the possibility to download between them as best as possible.
Galakthorrö music legally. There are
many people who like to support us in How do you select artists to be on
this way and we're happy about it. Lumberton Trading Co.?

From the outset, it was clear that LTCo

Label Profile: Lumberton Trading would only collaborate with
Co. artists/groups whose work over the
years has touch us/me in a great way.
Web: lumbertontrading.com To that end, we wanted generally, let's
say, more 'seasoned' artists housed by
Founded: 2004 the label to either do one-off releases
for us or use the platform to perhaps do
Location: Krakow, Poland something different. And although
LTCo has deviated from this somewhat
Owner(s): Richard Johnson due to a whole number of different and
rather tiresome reasons, I would
Releases to Date: 10 contend that its still essentially
anchored to this principle and will
Most recent release: Human Greed:: continue to remain so. The very fact
Black Hill: Midnight at the Blighted that people such as Michael Gira and
Star CD Faust have so far worked with LTCo in
this manner are a testament to this.
What was it that originally made you And, indeed, others are set to follow.
want to start a record label? Of course, being interested in new
music, I also want to work with newer
Well, let's not forget that LTCo is my artists on LTCo as well, but other
second label. The first being Fourth factors must be considered. With
Dimension, which commenced as an people such as Steven Severin, Gira,
offshoot to Gary Levermore's Third Sleazy, etc. on the label, the newer
Mind Records in 1984 before I took artists have to be able to at least punch
over after he did one release on it. a similar weight.
LTCo, however, differed (originally)
for its being a collaborative label with Are there any particular artists you
my good friend Hassni Malik, plus would be interested in working with?
having a perhaps more set objective
than Fourth Dimension in respect of There are a few, but the only artist I'll
both a stronger identity and its paying stress right now I would like on the
more attention to the packaging. label outside of those presently either
Whilst FD has likewise done this on on it or due to appear on it is William
occasion, it has operated in a slightly Bennett, although in a non-Whitehouse
different way, being perhaps more capacity. I haven't asked him yet,
DIY-spirited, for want of a better though, as I'm sure he'll decline!
description. Essentially, LTCo is
taking a little more care, although
that's not to slight my achievements

128
CONTRIBUTOR‟S LINKS SUE FOX
www.myspace.com/bloodredfox6
ROBERT AGASUCCI www.rogueartistsstudios.co.uk
www.myspace.com/staffordstone
www.staffordstone.com STEVEN SEVERIN
myspace. com/stevenseverinmusic
MARIA DE LA CRUZ www. stevenseverin. com
www.myspace.com/dolorosadelacruz
CRICKET CORLEONE
JIM LOPEZ www. myspace. com/bluevanities
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www. myspace.
A D HITCHIN com/beautyispainpublications
www.myspace.com/antonyhitchin
RICHARD A MEADE
AUDREE FLYNN http://www. visualdata. net
http://www. canadasclockworkorange.
blogspot. com/ PAUL STEVENS
www. revporl. com
CHARLES PLATT www. myspace. com/revporl
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fiction_author)
HANK KIRTON
JAMES HAVOC http://www. myspace. com/hankkirton
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Premature-Ejaculations-1989-99/dp/1871592666

CLAUDIO PARENTELA STEPHEN SENNITT

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