NOUVELLE

I am the sinner,

I am murder.

La voleuse/

I am the thief.

XXX

Jin

AKA

VI₣    &    SIN (X) SIN

The Islands are Dying

the islands are dying:

in banshee screams;

in slapped, short, still clutching waves;

in the howling rape of winded trees; 

here, we store with the sirens.

New Album || Notes

Hey.  First, thanks to all the people who’ve listened to my new album that came out this week, and a million times thanks to all the amazing people who’ve e-mailed and messaged me with congratulations, compliments, etc.  I’d sure like to receive some more insults, like hard-core hate mail, so don’t be shy.  You can use the “Submit (TO ME)” link on the left.

sin (x) sin on Black Lodge Music: fifteen tracks, free download.

A few people have asked me why it’s free.  I’m not loaded.  (with money)

The music’s already written. Out. I have more tracks I’m waiting to finish. (always)

And this is my first.  I’m fucking proud of it.  I listen to it all the time. 

I want you to listen to it.  At least for a little bit.  So, free.

If I could make one caveat regarding its availability, it’s this: listen to it alone.  Preferably over headphones, with good bass.

I’ll leave you with the inscription I wrote for my favorite person in the world, in the front pages of a notebook I scrawled on, custom, for him.

destruct
destroy
and never repent

we are not the last of a dying breed    we are the
only       and the single    other     song    playing    is the simultaneous array of sounds surrounding your almost-sleep.

My lunch break’s ending soon.

I love you, and I’m out.

XXX

sin (x) sin

AKA

Jin.

above photo, album cover, by Shannon Sinclair. (truly one of my favorite photographers, and she’s amazing.)

XXXTRA THANKS TO STILL BIRTH AND BLACK LODGE.

h.s.

I found your hand in the dark

five feet away, bedclothes stretched like nerve years between us

and in the silence of cool calm   flesh    and the absolute dark, never needed your name.

I drew fingers matched at throat and wrist

(still frantic kept in finite time)

staccato touch, to find instead

coarse shuttered light’s own quiet wounds

pit hands, and legs, and neck.