The Man with the Death-Touch Grip

I don't know how I do it but mannn can I do it.

The camera broke on me today. The zoom is jammed. No bump, no drop, no nothing.

This prompted much cursing out loud from me while deep in the Hood at sundown. Cars slowed to cell-phone film the bike-straddled, crazy guy barking fist-fight challenges to the open sky. Who knows? Maybe I'll become an inadvertent Youtube sensation? Well, fuck it... at least somebody's camera was working.

I'm not sure why but it seems I got a bad case of what doctor's call the 'Death-Touch Grip'. My condition, though not hereditary, has been congenital. Ever since I was a kid I've discovered that glass shatters with but a caress, electronics sizzle and fry at the press of a finger, toys break hours upon opening - even Tonka trucks and flat wooden blocks.

You know that thing the Fonz does when he slaps a jukebox with the flat of his fist and Chuck Berry would suddenly come on? Well this is sort of like that... only then the music slows and warps as the record melts and the jukebox belches smoke all moments before bursting into flames. That and it would play Tom Waits or Nick Cave despite the fact that both artists were conspicuously absent from the song menu moments before hand. Strange magick this life of mine...

That is why the medical community have prescribed I wear a pair of 'Kid Gloves' at all times. They are allowed off for only three contingencies - writing, showering and the third best left unsaid. However the pair I got on now are threadbare to the point where my fingers protrude as if I were some Charles Dickens street urchin. I'd get a replacement, but due to America's Unending War on Universal Healthcare I've been unable to afford new ones.

So there I was. Cradling the broken Olympus that was once my Grandmother's and bequeathed to me shortly upon arriving back from her funeral. Like some common super-villain I made a vow out loud not so much to a Lord Almighty but rather to the Invisible Audience I suspect watches over us - (Gods I can't forgive - as all artist's are ultimately culpable for their work - but an Invisible Audience is much more palatable to my sense of justice) - that for each tragedy visited upon me by luck or neglect I would respond by creating something.

Something wild and beautiful as the first kiss of revenge.

A story, a laugh, a mix, a seduction... and, one day soon, I promise... a picture.

Things to do in Terminus this weekend - Ritual!

This weekend Ritual is celebrating its one year anniversary by throwing a party for the End of the World... and you're invited! But before you go out looting for that special outfit and attacking oil-tankers with all your best droogs as a warm-up to the festivities, there are a few things you'll need to know about the event.

When:

This Saturday, June 19th from 10pm - 3am.

Where:

The Spot @ 502 Amsterdam Avenue NE, Terminus (aka Atlanta) GA

How much:

10 dollars - sorry but Ritual cannot accept siphoned gasoline, irradiated mutant slaves, canned food rations or Giger Counters as payment until after the apocalypse settles!

DJS:

Jennocide & 313 will be laying down Ragnarok-Rhythms to get you dancing like there's no tomorrow... because frankly there isn't!

Also don't forget the Spot has been remodeled so the DJ booth is now closer to the dance floor - making it easier to request that special song:



Age:

21 + - sorry boomerang wielding feral children of the wasteland - this one's for the grown ups! But come back and see us when society collapses and no one cares about IDs anymore.

Parking:

Free - but remember to have two screaming victims strapped to the front of your bumper to ensure you get the best spot.

Your Hostess:

None other than the Ayatollah of Rockn'rolla herself... the one and only, animeoni!

What happens if you don't make it:

Well... surely it won't come to that now will it?

The actual honest-to-goddess flyer:


Here's to another year of Ritual-goodness!