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We had been receiving phone calls in the small hours of the morning, my caregivers reporting each time an inability to discern any presence on the line.
I can’t stress enough the psychological effect of having the words you’ve written bound in your own skin. In having words torn from your mind…
we find ourselves lost in the experience of being the watcher whose subject is unaware of his gaze, which forms the undoing of rational thought, confronted with all the beauty and terror of the other in its natural state.
Ron Lessard tells for the first time his story in music about the highs and lows of running a label and a record store, weird projects, unfinished projects, encounters with other musicians, being on the road, and much more.
Conversations with Gary Mundy, and a wide range of Broken Flag associates, forming a sort of “oral history” of not just the label but a burgeoning subculture.
[Man]will know his fault by the sun which stands in fiery witness and the wind which breathes its judgement in the final silence of the world.
A man, rescued from a waterless dive by a robot hoping to “fix” him, finds himself disintegrated by a noxious fog of “Chrysanthemum Clouds,” the beginning of his transformation.
The absolute bizarre experiences of touring, noise shows, strange personalities in subculture, and being caught up in the antics of peers.
A wide range of artists from a variety of disciplines deliver sinister incantations.
The First issue of Cyanide Swamp, Reptile House’s broad reaching horror anthology
The Tyrant Queen of Iron City presents us with a bouquet of petty grievances.
The ritual sacrifice of three men at the hands of three inverse-graces.