Tyler Blint-Welsh is a journalist at the Wall Street Journal.
by Charlee Reiff
by Charlee Reiff
by Charlee Reiff
by Nik Swift
Counting on Earth: This is a synth piece overlaid onto a recording of a robotic voice incessantly counting to 6, with an accompanying visual topography graphic made with a visual synth. It depicts the earnest realization of humanity that we are counting on each other and on the earth now, more than ever, and the hope that after this crisis is over we will not take that dependence for granted.
Drape: A minimal texture emphasizes the sound of this piece, which simply represents the chaos that can go through one's mind behind the curtain.
hnmDOTSia: Another one just for fun :)
‘How to Party’ - excerpt from Pandora’s Vile Brain Box, 2020
Every time I walk into Julia’s apartment, some part of my shirt gets caught in the
overextended hook of her coat rack, and for a while that was slowly building into a
mountain of anger, but maybe I’ve passed the peak, because lately it hasn’t bothered me
as much. Or, I just don’t have the energy to give it much thought. I’m mostly happy that
she has so many jackets hanging on the rack, because I definitely have fewer jackets than
Julia and for a while I was feeling guilty about having too many jackets. Being tugged on
every time I walk into Julia’s apartment is a reminder that I’m doing okay, jacket-wise.
Rain Man runs past my ankle.
“Hey kitty! Here, kitty.”
Julia rustles around the kitchen and I hope she’s bringing tea or maybe a gluten-free
cookie-type of snack. I think she’s gluten-free, but it hasn’t come up often enough to
lodge into my memory. I’m not gluten-free but I’m definitely gluten-aware.
I find a semi-empty space for myself on the couch, next to a pile of acting books and about
10 different zines she grabbed from the zine fair last weekend.
“Kitty. Rain Man. I feel like such an asshole when I say your cats name.”
“Aren’t you allergic to cats?”
“Mhm. Keety, yess hi boy.” He finally lets me pick him up. Why do cats always stretch
their sharp nail-y paws right when you’re getting cozy with them?
She trades Rain Man with me for a mug of wine and continues to her bedroom.
“So maybe playing with Rain Man isn’t such a good idea?”
“I wouldn’t mind a hospital stay. I need a good thinking period.”
“I think you can find that without the added hospital bills.”
She emerges again, wearing a tight, long-sleeved cream bodysuit tucked into jeans.
“How’s this?”
“I feel underdressed.”
“Are my nipples showing?”
“Yeah but I like it. I’m jealous.”
“You look good. But if you want to borrow something you can borrow something.”
I consider my sweatshirt, but something about it makes me feel sexy; looking careless
translates to cool, and I know I won’t see anyone I know or whose opinion matters to me.
“I think I like this. It’s my trendy sweatshirt.”
“Yeah, you look cute. Maybe a red lip to dress it up?”
“Maybe. Whose party is this again?”
“Alex’s. Should I do a red lip?”
“Girl Alex or your Alex?”
“My Alex.”
“Ooh. Are you sure it’s cool if I go?”
“Yeah. I don’t really know any of his friends.”
I’m at a party talking to a girl who describes her ruffled shirtsleeves as “playful”- a human
Eeyore, but I keep up the conversation because she seems to like me.
I’m wearing a perfume that has notes of vanilla. It also has sandalwood, but I’m not sure
what that wood is supposed to smell like, and anyway the most important part is the
vanilla; according to science, guys love the smell of vanilla.
The last guy I fucked smelled like dust. He looked like dust too.
I don’t like the smell of dust but I like that he might’ve liked me.
Julia and Alex are on the other side of the room and I think I’ve expired all my passes to
tag along with them so I’m on my own in a room full of people I don’t know and don’t
particularly care to ‘get to know’. When we walked in I was introduced to a guy my age
named John, and I told him that John is one of my favorite names because it’s sturdy. I’m
letting myself be genuine and I can understand why he’d be flattered- he might even
consider what I do to be ‘flirting’. John’s been around my vicinity a few times, cracking jokes
and trying to make eye contact with me. I’ve made an impression, so from this point he’d
be pretty easy to talk to.
I turn away from Julia and Alex and make my way to the empty kitchen, a grimy mess of
mismatched silverware and plastic cups (this is a boy’s apartment) and lift up the bottles
to feel which ones have any liquid left. There’s vodka and I’m about to mix it with
orange juice when I remember that tap water is a better mixer- no calories.
“Oh wow, you go hard.”
It’s John. He probably snuck in here knowing he’d find me alone, but I feel more
comfortable tricking myself into giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“Water has no calories.” Normally I’d pretend to be a girl who doesn’t think about that
sort of thing, but I’d like to see where this goes.
“You shouldn’t care about that. It’s Friday!”
“Oh shit. You’re right. Friday’s the day I don’t count calories.”
“Ha ha. Well, maybe you’re right to be healthy. I think this is my 10th beer.”
You could run that off tomorrow.
Ten beers is a lot.
It’s Corona so it doesn’t count.
I run through my witty retort options but nothing seems interesting anymore, or maybe
his comment wasn’t interesting and I shouldn’t blame myself for a lack of creativity in
this conversation. Having a conversation can be such a drag.
“Water and vodka’s pretty tough, though. That’s hard.”
I’m starting to appreciate his persistence.
“Yeah, I’m a real tough chick I guess…”
“Ha ha. So you’re an actor like Julia?”
“Sure.”
“Cool.”
Pause. I say ‘sure’ because it’s neither yes or no, and I don’t have to stand by everything.
Party tip: you don’t owe anyone an explanation of your life. I feel bad though because
I’m guessing I come off as a real negligent asshole at this point, and that was supposed to
be John’s job. I’ll throw this dog a bone.
“Parties are weird.”
He perks up. “Totally-“
I’ve got to cut him off if I want this to go in my direction.
“I feel like everyone has ulterior motives.”
“They definitely do.”
“Like I can’t tell if you’re agreeing with me because you’re trying to fuck me or if
you genuinely agree with me.”
“Well I agree with you. But can’t it be both?”
“Would you want to fuck me?”
“… okay, yes. Sure.”
“Now everything you say doesn’t matter.”
“Sounds like you’re having an existential crisis.”
“I sort of am.”
“Why’s that?” His face shifts into focus, a robot that just learned to express ‘careful listening’.
“Do you know that guys scientifically like vanilla smells?” I shove my wrist towards his
nostrils.
I made this track about the virus. It's the wave of fear, misinformation
and the virus itself coming toward you, being with you and passing.
by minusminus