everything i can remember 1

An entirely white stone room. Light slightly filtering through suspended dust from a back door. An impossibly small window projecting sunlight into a lifeless slated tomb, ethereal and open, not morbid, a blank space. Black foldable chairs, about 20. All facing a casket with flowers laid overtop. You, running around, playing, weaving through the chairs, not understanding what’s going on. Exasperation, blood-curdling screams, pierced with your aunt’s deepest pit of sadness. Remorse. The bewilderment etched into you still. This lives in you. Your aunts dramatic, clenching their necklaces and covering their gaping mouths. Showy funeral attire, lace, hats, veils. Not understanding the reactions, but suddenly understanding mortality amidst running through the aisles, still confused what happened, trying to see in people’s faces the answer. Connecticut. 1992.

Amateur Haurar XXX

and for every minute that went by,

she swallowed a stone

they sat heavy

aching but not enough to cry

although she was mad she fooled herself

her stomach churned

rotten icecream,

who knew ice-cream could rot

before it was made

it was this ticking sense

time did not exist but

elapsed time was a countdown

negative space

like hallows of a cliffside being carved out

with explosives

maybe i shouldn’t have sent it

maybe it’s worth it to start throwing my own explosives

because admit your sad attempts

groundless, boundless, pathetic

short circuiting, while he clearly wants nothing to do with me

stupid stupid chances,

your intuition is a snake committing suicide

the other shoulder insists,

i’m redeeming my power

i’m taking that drunken elegance

and delusion and putting it into 

real time

like double gin and tonic

or never saying no to mezcal

or slugging back anything close to nail polish remover in adolescence

it was a misty haze and amber light reflected

off the vacant room

dust and smoke billowed

like a hipster western berliner classique

a tumble weed was kicked in with

secondhand doc martens.

he does not give a fuck about you,

eating your own poison

living an intimate fantasy

that fed the endorphin-driven


wasting youth

tracing for significance,

a sign,

like the strange man Apollo she met around the corner,



and aerospace.

she couldn’t be rid of the bellowing

maybe she should take up nicotine

why was he blind?


serpentwithfeet – blisters

The intimacy of desperation.

Like feeling pitter-patter gusts of breath whispered into your ear, confessing the terrestrial rot of the heart.

Someone murmuring while swallowing gut-wrenching tears, whose voice cracks and quivers — holding back yet facing deliverance.

Trying to look in the mirror. Distraught. Trembling.

It’s an EP that acts as a seraphic portal. A portal of anguishing transference seeped with grievous anxiety that ultimately induces our own truths & tribulations. Whether those are universal or not, you tell me.

Gospel heretic, serpentwithfeet,  beelines for the wounds of the underground with a “soul-retching” masterpiece, produced by the Haxan Cloak released on Triangle Records Sept 2nd. It is encapsulating and exciting beyond words. Beyond tears, it’s mark of harrowing angelic individuality, through the pairing of sound design & story-telling, departs from the majority’s indistinguishable sea of feedback.

In the track four ethers a delicate, vibrato weeps,

baby it’s cool with me that you like to lie

with fatal honesty & reprieve. The crescendos of orchestral triumph offer a complimentary backdrop. Energetic instrumental design envelops the listener with crashing cymbals releasing searing rapture, over and over again. The snide yet prophetic lyrics, sprung forward by sarcasm & pain, are an exacerbated, breathless mercy. The track is redemptive. All within decaying frames of postmodern woes.

“Babe, it’s cool with me that you want to die,
and I’m not gonna stop you if you try.
Your name is about as easy to remember
as the four ethers.”

Many lines evoke memory, sending one into a shutter-by-shutter spiral of repressed tragedy & comforting imagery. The two are conjoined threads in codependency.

Throughout the EP, the wilting vibrato climbs fragile over exalting instrumentation. The vocals reach new bounds like a contorting instrument. Occasionally they blend layers the piece with harmonica-like riffs or as syncopating ripples among the sounds to format a new language.

The title track, blisters, takes a synth-ier approach with piercing glass tones, descending on the tip of a slithering, wispy tongue. With varied strings, the autumnal force of Josiah Wise’s voice and distinct mastering, the thick plot of Blisters is a delightful awakening. I sat and cradled this one, a little over two weeks now. Thank you.



Blisters is out now, via Triangle Records.

Day #67 – Kyoto

Long time no see, to say the least. Every bus ride home or commute onward, I thought this will be the night I return to my blog. And now i’m here 67 days inward. 😉

I will be coming out with a couple different entries highlighting some locations, happenings, and reactions to my travels. It’s been real.

Today I had my first real sushi experience after wondering around historical Kyoto. Prior to this, I had to make due with some funny airbnb directions and find the entrance to my stay. After pacing around like a bag lady intra- Osaka & Kyoto’s trains of course. Japan’s efficient public transportation system and trains are unparalleled. I also had a couple local older gentlemen give me a gentle hand and looked out for me along the way. It was extremely comforting. People in these areas of Japan are way more compassionate and helpful with foreigners.

Navigating Kyoto was full of blissful sighs and zen visuals. I also found myself at a Kappa (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kappa_(folklore) & Sake museum after trying to find a mysterious “archaelogical site” that was marked on Google Maps. I made a local friend at the matcha cafe and she recommended I try out this sushi joint. Kyoto and the neighboring area Uji are infamous for green tea powder – MATCHA. It’s incredibly surreal to be in these places as matcha is a godly pleasure of mine. If you know me, you’ll know I’m obsessed with tea. So i went on a 25 min walk for le suuush.
The sushi joint was 100% certified. 100 Yen per plate of 1-2 pieces of dank fishy bits. Also in the quintessential atmosphere, with quirky ordering touch-screen self-service, conveyor belt, personal dispensers, and used plate receptacle. Japan = Willy Wonka IRL.

I’ll edit this with some pics and more details
xo reading crew, you are my herooooes.


Day 1… still?

For a second, I’m winding down after experiencing, justifiably, the swiftest 24 hours of travel ever. This amounted to me sprinting to and from halting queue, broken up by cramped  pre-REM sleep and hide-and-go seek with babies. Flights are just stationary, seated queues. With movies and microwavable dinners.
I’m listening to distant motorbike honks and ready for a disco nap. Although a group of Argentinian party chicks just invited me out to pub crawl. So, here’s a bit of a recap.

1/14 – Last minute packing and sorting after a week of good-bye parties. Maybe it was Tuesday or Wednesday morning when I realized, the weekend didn’t end. And, there was still a final stretch before my departure. Got an e-mail late evening from the US Embassy Consular to come in for an emergency passport after they had previously told me I would be fine with having 178, not 180, days of validity on my passport.

1/15 – A couple hours of sleep later, retrieved my bike in a bon voyage dusting of snow. Printed the passport renewal form, rushed to the Embassy with my backpack. The guards had a laugh at me, gave them the old “I’m crazy” shrug and was promptly issued a temp. passport…3 hours before my flight. Subsequently I splurged on a cab. During which the cab driver shared some buddhist wisdom about ranking the “best place to be” as being wherever you are. Even though he snuck in a xenophobic comment about the refugee crisis, we hugged like he was my relative thus sending me off to my first line. I was the girl eating celery sticks.
First flight: delayed 20 minutes.
Four and a half hours later, arrived in Moskau! (With more customs checkpoints and a 3 minute window left to board my next plane.)
Next flight, I was sandwiched for 9+ hours. Sleptwatched a couple films and tried the Aeroflot food. I’d love to rewrite the menu descriptions, as always a bit more discolored than I had imagined.

1/16 Landed in SGN.
Was smacked with 30 C and another line for a remaining visa form, then waited for my visa to be picked up. Then a final customs line, and headed off to my stay and to get lunch. Ho Chi Minh City is congested, in spots run-down, gritty floral and vibrantly-colored. Lots of communist symbolism and flags everywhere. Also non-ironically being sold as souvenirs. On arrival the perfect combo of Cà Phê Sữa Dá & Phở (3 USD total) added to my delirious state of mind against the flourescently lit dining establishment, sending me into a slow-motion head-rush. Next I decided I’d follow-up some neon sign next door on massage. Headed to the 6th floor and could not turn down a 5 USD massage. Got suited in silk pajamas and realized it was more a gentleman’s spa but nevertheless bonded with my masseuse. We had a laugh after she walked over my back and chatted about culture, life and men. We’re both plagued by gender expectations as the women here are painfully thin. She claimed my goals should be, if I could stop laughing, to get me a husband from Singapore. The other women came in to check me out. She might come out later to see DJ Vadim & Minh Tan (a Berlin deejay, small world) play tunes.

As the sun hit me in the park, I headed back in an attempt not to knock out in the park.

Just met a dude who finds it “boring here” and so decided he’d leave in a day. He’s been “here” less than 24 hours. He’s on a 15 country journey lasting 18 months. Trying to hold back any judgements as the dude also mentioned he’d be into “EDM” later if that’s what was playing at the gig I described to him. I still have an insane visceral reaction to the utterance “EDM” but I get it not everyone knows how to describe electronic music and that’s okay.

I’m looking forward to seeing if I can fit in the Mekong Delta or Cu Chi Tunnels into the next couple days of being here before planning the course of my Vietnam portion of this trip.

FYI: On a 3 month adventure. I will be updating semi-regularly.  Toto , habe ich ein Gefühl, das wir in Berlin mehr sind es nicht.

Also last thought, it’s a strange feeling when you are able to eavesdrop and understand in a different language and not speak at the same level of understanding. Ready to exercise and seriously warm up my dormant languages aka just 2nd grade level Spanish. Excited to acquaint myself with Tagalog too.



SPOTTED: Young Seal – mindblown.

I came across this today. SO, Seal – Monsieur “Kiss From A Rose” was a raver club kid and did vocals on a breakthrough pop acid house track that was #1 on the charts. Considering acid house was banned by BBC Radio 1, it’s mainstream success was a huge deal. It’s no Hotline Bling. That and all Drake memes definitely killed themselves this week.

I’m not really one for introductory posts. I will get to it though, in some fashion because defining this practice will give me a guide and I want to remain authentic to myself, foremost. I am a curious trajectory. Be thrilled to get to know me and explore with me. Enjoy the snapshots of my brain and journey. We are parallel, perpendicular, and paradoxical. Shared humanity is beautiful. Getting to know someone, their voice, and narrowing a niche happens over time. Posing for pictures takes the life out of them (the pictures and the experience), doesn’t it?