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- 11 hours ago

RT @metatronpress: ๐•Š๐•’๐•ช ๐•™๐•–๐•๐•๐•  ๐•ฅ๐•  ๐• ๐•ฆ๐•ฃ ๐•—๐•š๐•Ÿ๐•’๐• ๐•ฃ๐•–๐•๐•–๐•’๐•ค๐•– ๐• ๐•— ๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜... ๐•น๐–” ๐•ป๐–—๐–”๐–‡๐–‘๐–Š๐–’๐–†๐–™๐–Ž๐–ˆ๐–˜ ๐–‡๐–ž ๐–๐–Ž๐–”๐–‘๐–† ๐•ฎ๐–๐–Š๐–“ ๐”ธ๐•ง๐•’๐•š๐•๐•’๐•“๐•๐•– ๐•—๐• ๐•ฃ โ„™๐•ฃ๐•–-๐•†๐•ฃ๐••๐•–๐•ฃ ๐•Ÿ๐• ๐•จ! https://t.co/4Dwโ€ฆ
h J R
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- 14 hours ago

๐•Š๐•’๐•ช ๐•™๐•–๐•๐•๐•  ๐•ฅ๐•  ๐• ๐•ฆ๐•ฃ ๐•—๐•š๐•Ÿ๐•’๐• ๐•ฃ๐•–๐•๐•–๐•’๐•ค๐•– ๐• ๐•— ๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜... ๐•น๐–” ๐•ป๐–—๐–”๐–‡๐–‘๐–Š๐–’๐–†๐–™๐–Ž๐–ˆ๐–˜ ๐–‡๐–ž ๐–๐–Ž๐–”๐–‘๐–† ๐•ฎ๐–๐–Š๐–“ ๐”ธ๐•ง๐•’๐•š๐•๐•’๐•“๐•๐•– ๐•—๐• ๐•ฃ โ„™๐•ฃ๐•–-๐•†๐•ฃ๐••๐•–๐•ฃ ๐•Ÿ๐• ๐•จ!โ€ฆ https://t.co/dmmgcTtQgA
h J R
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- 1 day ago

RT @theonlyelitareq: code red? more like code bed, am i right?
h J R
@metatronpress

- 1 day ago

RT @metatronpress: Look who arrived! THE NERVES is here in all sorts of delicious, inside and out ๐Ÿ’šโค๏ธ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’™ https://t.co/yb5nFJeMYk https://t.cโ€ฆ
h J R
@metatronpress

- 1 day ago

Hereโ€™s the link to watch the lovely, safe and distanced live launch of KNOT BODY by @theonlyelitareq ๐Ÿ˜ featuringโ€ฆ https://t.co/BfLZb1UWdF
h J R
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OMEGA | Katrina Schaag
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Katrina Schaag

01 Dec Katrina Schaag

SOLILOQUY

 

I canโ€™t recall the first time I saw his brain, but it had something to do with the way I was feeling that day. It was flat all around us, and he kept scratching at his nose, like it was cheese. All that scratching, and the nose not melting away, I couldnโ€™t help but stare.

We stayed like that for a while, him scratching at his nose, me staring, until he offered to show me his brain. It was like a candlestick, or a machine โ€“ waxy, and sharp. I heard a clanking noise, sort of like a dripping mouth, and it got duller and duller as the brain clanked away. Neither of us said anything โ€“ we didnโ€™t have to, and anyway we wouldnโ€™t have been able to understand each other over the screeching clank-clanking of that brain.

The way it dripped, I could certainly see why heโ€™d been scratching at his nose, probably to try to keep it all inside, stop it from flowing into the street. It was raining, I think, and the sound of the rain began to mimic his dripping and clanking, and suddenly it all seemed so strange. I mean โ€“ his mouth, and his sharp teeth. He was always so good at shredding cheese, no wonder! He looked so odd as he scratched his nose. I couldnโ€™t eat for days.

 


 

CHICAGO, 2005

 

back in the synthetic grime pool, naked bodies thrashed out chord distortion, screeching noise rippling through the sweaty static air, a rampage a cough. she ripped her underclothes and sprung into the pit, a manic stab at heaven, blissful carnage modified.

in those days a barred door was a tunnel to thrills, earning cuts and bruises, tying delicate pain-ribbons around shuddering frenetic limbs. saying โ€œi like youโ€ translated to โ€œlet’s get smashed & do it in a cave, explode in wavelengthsโ€ and even the ebbs and flows had some steam to let off.

there was something pure about the starving energy โ€“ a brutality seething in beauty, a rawness that cut lovingly. the idea was to loosen restraints and throw everything into the whirling magic-machine, a collective brainchild engineered to get out of our heads and into our bodies.

 


Katrina Schaag is a writer and artist working on her PhD in English at University of Wisconsin-Madison. Her work investigates performativity, artifice, power dynamics, and queering genders, and she has been published by Ugly Ducking Presse, Requited Journal, and Rabbit Catastrophe Press.

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