a bag over the head is iconic. if you are thinking only of fashion who are you thinking for? when i was 13 i started writing with both hands at once so i could make something that touched itself in the middle. i became an angel. i put space between the letters of my name and my identity was then entirely composed of light. this is why i swallowed a phone and pulled the cord through my throat and mouth. i’m close to you, vince. when i replace my face with a circular mirror you’re inside me still. i am not in love with you, vince. i am convincing you that you are a body in a morgue acting as a patient in a hospital stuffed with doctors. when i was 13 i started writing with both hands at once so i could make something that touched itself in the middle. i became an alchemist. i made pure the gothic deep inside the erotic to compose the world entirely of mirrors. i’m calling you because you are inside of me. (more…)

We invited the hip director over to let him down easy. His last couple projects hadn’t been in his signature style. The most recent video was basically a single take of a hundred people walking in and out of an apartment saying “hi” to each other. The director asked for a second chance. He said he could give us something that was a little bit of the old style mixed with some future shit.

“I don’t know,” I said.

The girls would probably show up soon. The hip director was supposed to be hurt enough that he pretty much left immediately, but not so hurt that we couldn’t rehire him if he miraculously made a comeback.

“It took like two hours to get all the way out here,” said the director. “At least let me explain.”

Damien rifled through the cabinet. I was already sitting at the kitchen table.

“Here,” said Damien. He handed the director a spice container with a flexi-straw in it. (more…)