M Kitchell
for Antonio Urdiales

"Radical change" might be conveyed if it were specified in the following manner: from what comes to pass, the present is excluded. Radical change would itself come in the mode of the unpresent which it causes to come, without thereby either consigning itself to the future (forseeable or not), or withdrawing into a past (transmitted or not).
—Maurice Blanchot

Part I: Narration

there is a large white villa hidden in the depths of the forest where people say terrible things happen. if you are sleeping there, sometimes a warm breeze blows the sound of the ocean through the windows. this is highly disorienting because the villa in the forest is nowhere near the ocean. inside the white villa there is a single black telephone sitting on an oak end-table near the primary set of stairs. beneath the telephone is a notebook containing the phone numbers of every person you've met or wanted to meet. when you dial one of the numbers on the telephone it is rare that a connection is made. if someone does pick up, it is not the person you were trying to call & the person on the other line cannot understand a word you are saying, no matter how well you articulate your sound.

when I meet you for breakfast in the city, far away from the forest, there are only two things we talk about. one of the things we talk about is how delicious the chilaquiles that the restaurant serves are. the other thing we talk about is the white villa hidden in the depths of the forest.

can you drive me there this weekend, I say to you.
I suppose we could go, you respond.

it is only monday so I have the entire week to prepare for our journey. it is not a long journey, but it is long enough that I know I must be precise in what I am packing. here is a list of things I am packing:

  1. I am packing the scourge with many leather tassels and a handle of polished bone. neither of us have been able to identify what animal the bone has come from. sometimes when I hold the scourge in my hands late at night I am convinced that the handle is not bone, but polished marble. there is arguably no certain way for me to tell, as my fingertips are not that attuned to these exotic materials.
  2. I am packing enough strips of white gauze to wrap your face so I can't watch the tortured expressions that haunt it while you sleep. you've complained before that the white gauze often makes you feel like you are choking in your dreams but i've explained the necessity of the material if we wish to sleep in the same room.
  3. I am taking three changes of clothing.
  4. An unmarked record that I found buried in the muck at the bottom of a drainage ditch months after the end of the rainy season. I'm still not quite sure what sounds the record holds because I don't have a record player, but the room we always stay in at the white villa has a record player so I know this is my chance to discover the secret.
  5. Enough scotch to dull any abjection that might surface over the course of the weekend.

this fills up my suitcase perfectly. I would normally bring a book or two when traveling, but the combination of the things in the suitcase, the surrounding forest, and the folly of the white villa itself is enough to keep me more than entertained. if there is a blackout of affect we can entertain each other both with blind touch and invented narratives of the horrible things that have happened in the white villa.

this is all I need. I think it will be a good weekend.

Part II: Dialog

can we talk about what i'm thinking about right now
we are talking about what you're thinking about right now
no we're not, you're not listening
of course i'm listening to you who else would I be listening to
I want to think of the mansion in the woods where you took me
what mansion in the woods
the mansion in the woods where you cut my legs off
oh, you mean the mansion in the woods where you asked me to cut your legs off
yeah there
ok fuck yeah I wanna talk about the mansion in the woods
I think I fell in love with you there
I know you did that's why you asked me to cut your legs off
then why didn't you do it
why didn't I do what
why didn't you cut my legs off
because they're my legs too
what are you talking about
you know what i'm talking about
do you wanna go to the mansion in the woods this weekend?
fuck yeah I wanna go to the mansion in the woods this weekend
can we drive through the forest with the windows open
fuck yeah we can drive through the forest with the windows open
can we try to find my dead body
fuck yeah we can try to find your dead body
good, i'm glad, this makes me feel like you're listening to my feelings
i'm always listening to your feelings
i'm really into talking about my feelings because it makes me feel like i'm still alive
but you are still alive
no i'm not
what are you thinking about
whatever it is that you're thinking about
i'm thinking about how hot it would be if you cut my legs off
why do you want me to cut your legs off
because i'm in love with you and if I were immobilized I would be dependent upon you to take
me anywhere I wanted
to go
but that's stupid that's just a lot of extra work for me
are you saying that you wouldn't get off on cutting my legs off?
of course i'd get off on cutting your legs off that's fucking hot
I want you to cut my legs off and keep them in glass tanks next to your bed
wouldn't that be weird to you to have to see your legs when you're falling asleep and waking up
no I think it'd be fucking hot
why would it be fucking hot
because it'd be able to remember you cutting my legs off and how turned on you were
while you cut my legs off
ok do you wanna cut my legs off then?
fuck yeah I wanna cut your legs off
can you cut my legs off at the mansion in the woods this weekend?
fuck yeah i'll cut your legs off at the mansion in the woods this weekend.
can we do it with an audience?
no, I might have to go to jail if anybody else sees me do it
but wouldn't it be hotter if there were a bunch of guys fucking each other in the same room while you were cutting my legs off
I guess that'd be hot, but I might get distracted and not do as good of a job of cutting
your legs off
it seems like maybe you don't actually want to cut my legs off
no I totally want to cut your legs off
I bet you're not even hard right now
of course i'm fuckin' hard, I can feel my dick throbbing through my pants, can't you?
I don't know i'm so fucking over life I just can't wait for that moment of ecstatic necessity
when you cut my legs off
do you think your dick will be hard while i'm cutting your legs off?
fuck yeah my dick will be hard while you're cutting my legs off, why do you think I
want you to do it
I bet when you don't have legs it'll be even easier for me to fuck you
fuck yeah it will you'll be able to get real deep into my ass when I don't have any legs
fuck yeah, I can't wait to cut your legs off
see, this weekend at the mansion in the woods we'll finally reach the point where an infinite
number of orgasms are possible
fuck yeah, I can't wait
me neither
what time should we leave for the mansion in the woods
I don't know, i'll have to figure out what time I can get the rental car
do you have to work this weekend?
no, of course not, I never have to work
good, I don't want anything to get in the way of you cutting my legs off
don't worry, i'm way too fucking excited for that right now, I can't wait to watch the blood
spurt out and mix with the thick loads i'll be ejaculating all over your fresh stumps
fuck yeah, I can't wait until you make me taste the primordial mixture of blood and come
fuck yeah
fuck yeah
fuck yeah

Part III: The Outside

the land that surrounds our villa in the forest is a land of god's blankness, a land of ever-shifting microclimate and the aura of the lost. there's a haunt that floats through the air and fills our sex with the blood needed for arousal.
like how much come do you have to spurt before the mound can become animate viscera that can also help to destroy everything? no forgetting please, there are things to be done. like with water and air and ropes and gauze and chanting and erasure and the blood letting of this specific ritual. listen to the waves hit the sand, it's not really happening because this void is too dislocated.
there's always the capacity for escape, that of fabrication. pleased with this insistence. untold lies that generate this sexual excitement. community of thieves. when the accuracy of any sort of question is assessed the answer is always that the question is just inadequate. nobody has any answers. rubbing dirt onto flesh so the transition to being buried underground comes easier.
watch the flat. being inside of somebody is like being engulfed by water is like having someone inside of you is like refusing god but understanding the spirit. we're all ready to go here.

M Kitchell is an artist and publisher living in the Bay Area. He runs Solar Luxuriance & is the author of Slow Slidings (Blue Square Press 2012), Apart From (Solar Luxuriance, 2014) and the forthcoming Spiritual Instrument (Civil Coping Mechanisms, 2015). He can be found online at