Final five copies of Empty House as found in the back of the closet. Each copy includes a dvdr with unreleased material and source recordings as well as fragment-narratives, collages and photographs.
Includes unlimited streaming of I Am An Empty House Longing To Be Haunted
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I sit beneath the river and wait, and wonder. "The algae cloaks me, and melusine starshine tendrils slither through my hair, over my bones. The song she sings to me now echoes, more to feel than to hear, and I hum like a struck bell. I have sung this song before. I can feel her breath in my ear, whispering of sleep, of places where the skin of catfish ripples across my nerves, and it is cool, and my body aches to slip out of this skin, sidestep gravity and float beneath the lilypads, ochre rubbed into my skull where sutures read like calligraphy, mastodon-mecha frozen solid the oil like glue. There is a ballroom where these insects perfect waltzes, flags pinned to the wings of butterflies, a deaths-head moth curled in upon itself. The terminology fails me, and I try to get up and thumb through a field guide to understand the nature of this fauna, but the legs no longer function as legs, and I slide across the floor upon a million miniature mandibles, my body a nest of jaws. Nothing but a collection of voids unable to examine itself, to fulfill the apparatus and take a sample and place it beneath the glass, this is the thing I am, the back of my own head, the words are a scalpel and a prism and a doorway. I do not know myself by these names, and am confused to see these words take shape before me, as I have not made the necessary efforts to type them. There is another, and another, and we have made a kind of peace with each other, but this other is not that other, and I miss you, I miss you so much, I wish you were here with me. This is the thing I am."
supported by 5 fans who also own “Starshine Tendrils”
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