Man In The Radiator

A New Book Compiling Interviews with Legendary Underground British Musical Outfit Coil - compiled and edited by Nick Soulsby and published by Strange Attractor Press Special Edition with Art Cards, Quotations Book, and featuring my vinyl copy of ...And the Ambulance Died in His Arms.  (text is taken from my Instagram post on March 24th, 2023) A beautiful new book, Everything Keeps Dissolving, by Nick Soulsby and published by @strangeattractorpress compiling interviews of Coil's Jhonn Balance and Peter Christopherson. The special signed edition I got came with a small book of quotes as well as these art cards of Balance's drawings. another shot of the book and art cards - Coil is perhaps one of the most enigmatic and ceaselessly interesting musical groups there ever was. Though both founding members are long since passed on, the output of music they have given unto the world will forever exist in deviance to everything that makes life mundane, happenstance, meaningless, and sui

  Dazzle - a short story about love, mutilation, transformation, and manifesting nightmares  Anthony Bunting : As far back as his memories could go, Anthony recalled spending most of his days on this earth experiencing great bouts of increasingly terrible dreams. In rare moments of total lucidity, he could trace these memories back and realize that his life, or the memory of his life that he was able to piece back together amongst the layers of thickening fog engulfing his brain, had few moments free of these dreams. Not that these were always dreams in the traditional sense. Not always simply a series of images and sequences of jumbled up and twisted subconscious manifestations, nor were they always traditional nightmares, cataloging his fears, trauma, and paranoia into a cataclysmic nighttime disturbance. They contained these elements, yes, but they were also frequently governed by a sort of malaise of thoughts and feelings that struck Anthony to a significantly grueling degree.

  The Burning Mausoleum ( the end of a cycle) - written March 5th - March 7th, 2023 - Torn-up circus tents, Bereft of any color, In piles of pale flames, Burning up what little is left of our surrounding forest. Spiraling, dazzling structures crash down in slow motion, And all the once fabulous freaks  Clog up the sewer drains   With their emaciated, bleached corpses. Dried-out leaves are left stained with my blood. The whole graveyard we built together  Tilts and careens further into hellish caverns of reeking mud.  The sky forever fragmented, the night buzzing with  Hovering sheets of shimmering gray flies That descend upon my body  As eyeless vagabonds knot their rot  Through what remains of my bones. I’m unable to believe in anything, As my body sinks deeper into the puddle of grease paint From the crucified performers left dissolving in the trees. Everything around me is being taken away  Shifted suddenly back, beyond my control, Into nightmare variations of terrible past familia