“I love you with all of my soul / u know I wouldn't tell u if I didn't mean it tho" it's a gun joke so deep and sincere it turns right back into human limerence—his singing exceeds the metaphor so that what I feel listening is something like true love, in it's wooze, pivot, lo-fi slur and mumble. While writing the poems that would be part of Glaring I picked up Jalal Toufic's Forthcoming from codex books—it opens with a brief piece called "l'avertissement a l'écrivain"—warning to the writer. There are writers and filmmakers "rare, who address the one who, for whatever circumstances, is in a state of depersonalization—they accompany someone even when he has deserted himself. Since these instances of depersonalization are rare, and since one often does not wish to be reminded of them, the latter writers and filmmakers, books and films are not popular." I said I was disassociating, a serious joke, and the person I was going with said maybe it's time to reassociate. so I had to ask myself, am I just witness to a cosmic crime? Can I make a writing dense, quick and gathered enough to spiral out and upward from the hole we're kicked down into? These are lonely songs, they accompany someone who has deserted themself but, I think, see association as a serious task of making. Burial, "I want to find true love, I know it's [a lie? alright?]"—and the rinse announcer chimes in to pull the music from the vacuum. "From young man I knew what I wanted, never inside weren't watching no marvel" Nito NB. Lust for life, 10 mins of close mic'd organ from Kali Malone, cosmic claustrophobic euro church music, feel my mood slowly disperse and congeal. But "we sing a song, especially to you" too, god (Robert Vanderbilt), please hurry and find us. "God knows I need to see you, but it takes so long, my Lord...nobody has taught us any patience...and by now it's too late...I hope it's not too late but I think it's too late" (Nina Simone)—the last lines of the last poem in Glaring are "love is coming from me, love is streaming / from me . it's there , but there's no time ." I hope it's not too late ! I'm so impatient. I think it's not too late. I'm overcome, I'm badly mixed . I had a vision last night that we got the killing to stop and the storm picked up and the plantations burned and the dead patina over living just crept up and crackled. Writing in a spiral pattern, "I've never seen a night so long" (Cassandra Wilson via Hank Williams), but the night makes matter happen. I said it and it's so.
Burial, "True Love VIP"
Nito NB + Loski, "Lies"
Triad God, "so pay la"
Cassandra Wilson, "I'm so lonesome I could cry"
Duwap Kaine, "Choppa"
Kali Malone, "Spectacle of Ritual"
Robert Vanderbilt & The Foundation of Souls, "A Message Especially From God"
Nina Simone, "My Sweet Lord / Today is a Killer"
Benjamin Krusling is a writer and artist working in language, sound and moving image. He is the author of Glaring (Wendy's Subway, 2020).
Funkadelic, “Back In Our Minds”
Lady Lamb, “Billions of Eyes”
Sevdaliza, “The Language of Limbo”
the Digable Planets, “Agent 7 Creamy Spy Theme/Dial 7 (Axiom of Creamy Spies)/NY 21 Theme”
Be Steadwell, “Greens”
The Space Lady, “I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night”
Julia Jacklin, “Body”
Japanese Breakfast, “Soft Sounds from Another Planet”
Mallika Singh is a poet, cook, and facilitator who writes about environment, surveillance, and intimacies. They are from many places and currently frolicking in the high desert of New Mexico. Mallika is the author of the chapbook, Retrieval (Wendy's Subway), and is pursuing a certificate in Community Herbalism from the People’s Medicine School.