(not so) Final Exit.In 2003, the only real "relationship" I've ever been in collapsed. And I mean collapsed: it came down harder than the World Trade Center on 9/11. As if the permanent damage done to my own mental and emotional well-being wasn't enough, the collateral damage was, in many ways, worse. Friendships vanished as people took sides, accusations and slurs were rampant, and real honest-to-god violence only narrowly averted. I've never been closer to suicide - or homicide - in my entire life. From that whole soul-scarring experience came the "Subterranean Passage" trilogy of EPs: a documentary, in ambient audio sculpture, of my own Dantean journey through hell, which is a terrifyingly real place that makes the most flammable fantasies of the religious look as cozy as a weekend in San Tropez. See, the worst thing about hell is that it exists inside your own skull. It's a Klein bottle of misery: it contains you, but you, in turn, contain it...and the only way to escape it is to blow a hole in your head wide enough to let what's left of you leak out.
Sounds like: Coil, Lustmord, Wilt, a cancer patient's last breath. |
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