Khloaris

Sweet graceful curl, with golden hue, That decks a gem so rare; Soft silken trees, each fond caress, But makes thee look more fair. Dame Nature, in a jealous mood, To watch o’er her joys, that thrill the soul, And guard the lips of Love.

SLAM!

A fat yellow moon appeared in the branches of the fig tree as if it were going to roost there with the chickens. He said that a man had to escape to the country to see the world whole and that he lived in a desolate place like this where he could see the sun go down every evening like God made it to do.

KHLOARIS is pleased to announce our appearance on the brand new Cheap Chills Podcast by @benwalkerstorey of @cheapchillsfanclub. Cheap Chills is one of our favorite spots on the internet and scratches all of those wild, unkempt that us 2nd and 3rd generation monster kids have. You should be following them if you’re not already. It’s nice to meet Ben, the man behind the account, and talk about Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park, the complete works of the Coreys, and how to make truly weird, and truly original movies during a uncertain time when most people only want background noise. We love these moments where social media can bring disparate, but like-minded oddball strangers together to share notes and hopefully move the culture forward. Link in bio.

At least one KHLOARIS production, “Holy Wound,” and maybe more — we don’t know! — is screening as part of this fantastic program of underground and unusual films in Coney Island on July 5 at Coney Island USA, curated by our friend and sometimes collaborator @dylanmarsgreenberg. “Holy Wound” will take you deep, deep into the woods, murder you, bloodily, and maybe the woodland witches will put you back together again, as something more in tune with the spirits than before. Directed and written by the singular @josafat.concepcion, with cinematography by @kyles_camera_roll, music by @the.flushing.remonstrance and starring @lamorenoanita, @mem_willis and a cadre of real life witches and forest cult people. A more fascinating, disturbing story has never been told. A KHLOARIS Production. With more films by KHLOARIS friends and/or collaborators Dylan Greenberg, Nick Zedd, Lisa Hammer and more. Be there, or be in the circle of protection and god help your soul.

Excerpt from the new, controversial Star Wars series “The Acolyte,” now streaming on Paramount Max (only $23.99 a month with a three year commitment!). The series deals intergalactic insurance agents. This has been a very polarizing moment in the history of streaming, so much that some see this as endangering our great streaming future. I don’t get it: this looks like pure cinema to me, and insurance money is indeed great. When the theater densely filled The glad ovation thrice outbroke. I, badly stunned, was all but killed When fell the tree, but Faun the stroke With right hand brushed aside; the god Of poets he. A fane must tell Thy thanks while victims due the sod; Blood from my humble must well.

Poor Rudi! Brief was the triump of your childish dæmony. It had entered into a field of power farr more charged with fate, far more dæmonic than its own, which speedily shattered, consumed, and extinguished it. Unhappy “Du”! It was inappropriate to the blue-eyed mediocrity that had achieved it; nor could he who so far condescended refrain from avenging the humiliation inseparable from the condescension, pleasurable though that may have been. The revenge was automatic, cold-eyed, secret. But let me tell my tale.

In this world, there are enemies with shapes (katachi aru) and enemies with- out shapes (katachi naki). They consistently threaten people’s lives and harm people’s health, even stealing their lives once in a while. . . Wars, floods, droughts, storms, fires, earthquakes are mostly those with shapes. . . However, shapeless enemies are far more threatening than those with shapes. . . They are not detected by people’s ears or eyes, and one can know their horror only after they have already done damage. These enemies are cholera and other epidemics. . . I call them “enemies without shapes” because one’s eyes cannot catch them.

More proof that nobody knows anything in the movie biz these days: Here’s a sequence from the new George Miller film, Furiosa. Furiosa is the 8th film in Miller’s post-apocalyptic, cult favorite “Wild Max” series. For some reason, despite very strong reviews and audience recognition, the film landed with a loud thud in the box office, being outperformed by Heathcliffe, a movie based on the spaghetti-eating comic book cat, and leading to one of the worst Memorial Day weekends in Hollywood history. Furiosa revolves around the titular character and her beau Wild Max, seen here, trying to deliver a new cassette player to Furiosa’s dad for Father’s Day. It’s a fun, frolicking film with a positive Father’s Day message, and with Father’s Day right around the corner, we here at KHLOARIS say it’s not too late to make this one a hit. #furiosa #wildmax #cassetteplayer #memorialday #fathersday #boffo #boxoffice #bombsonfathersday #heathcliffethespaghettieatingcat

I remember a sewing machine —a Singer with a pedal— A Singer with a thousand gleaming needles Needles with huge eyes—one for heavy cloth— One for silk—my grandmother’s— She’d thread the needle in the black machine, And then, all morning long, Tap, tap, tap, Putting sharp needles through Silk, calico, linen, and Rayon too. Where is that life Where things are made? Made out of raw stuff—little blouses, Underpants, hems sewn, As if a single shawl Were enough to fill the afternoons of a lifetime, As if life had its own meaning That she knew as she kept on sewing.

“That such magnetism exists in Nature is as certain as that gravitation does not; not at any rate in the way in which it is taught by science. Matter, to the occultist, has many more forms of existence than the one that science knows, and these more refined ones are the most important. Theosophy is largely built up on the supposed gradations of matter from the gross to the ultimately fine. It is the existence of the rarer ethereal grades which supply to thought the data essential for the construction of a metaphysical science. The true or essential nature of the higher potencies can never be inferred from their remote existential manifestations; and this is why science can never hope to come upon more fundamental knowledge while misled by the merely phenomenal phalanx of outward effects. Matter in its outer veil of solid substantiality is illusive, for it is the dead appearance of a living thing. “It is on the doctrine of the illusive nature of matter and the infinite divisibility of the atom that the whole science of Occultism is built. This, she says, opens limitless horizons to states of substance of unimaginable tenuity, but all informed by the Divine Breath. Nature is as unlimited in her possibilities of fineness as she is in those of gross size, in the interior direction as in outward spatial extent.

The Black Bat drew a gun with back in your rooms. That gunman amazing speed. It roared and he saw the man give a lurch and emit a weird sort of cry. Then he turned the corner and an elevator door slammed shut. The Black Bat didn’t follow him. He knew what a pistol shot would do in a hotel of this kind. He darted for Silk’s room. Butch came up behind him, muttering apologies for letting the guest cry out. The Black Bat found the door unlocked, stepped into the room and motioned that Butch was to hide elsewhere. A muffled groan came from the bed. The Black Bat hurried toward it, pulling a knife from his pocket as he did so. In a moment he had Silk loose.

Scene from the new PBS series “The Complete History of U.S. Politics,” now streaming for $22.99 a month.

Let Connie Chan sing your Friday blues away.

The men were as handsome as the women beautiful. I have always delighted in and reverenced beauty; but I felt simply abashed in the presence of such a splendid type—a compound of all that is best in Egyptian, Greek and Italian. The children were infinite in number, and exceedingly merry; I need hardly say that they came in for their full share of the prevailing beauty. I expressed by signs my admiration and pleasure to my guides, and they were greatly pleased. I should add that all seemed to take a pride in their personal appearance, and that even the poorest (and none seemed rich) were well kempt and tidy. I could fill many pages with a description of their dress and the ornaments which they wore, and a hundred details which struck me with all the force of novelty; but I must not stay to do so. When we had got past the village the fog rose, and revealed magnificent views of the snowy mountains and their nearer abutments, while in front I could now and again catch glimpses of the great plains which I had surveyed on the preceding evening. The country was highly cultivated, every ledge being planted with chestnuts, walnuts, and apple-trees from which the apples were now gathering. Goats were abundant; also a kind of small black cattle, in the marshes near the river, which was now fast widening, and running between larger flats from which the hills receded more and more. I saw a few sheep with rounded noses and enormous tails. Dogs were there in plenty, and very English; but I saw no cats, nor indeed are these creatures known, their place being supplied by a sort of small terrier.

There were those who doubted the authenticity of the possession, and wondered if the audience of doctors and exorcists were not as much the cause as the remedy of the sisters’ plight. Marc Duncan noted that Sister Agnès claimed ‘that she was not possessed, but that they wanted to make her think she was, and that they forced her to let herself be exorcised’. When some burning sulphur fell on Sister Claire’s lip, she cried out ‘that since they said she was possessed, she was willing to believe there was some truth in it, but that she didn’t deserve to be treated like that because of it’.Despite these testimonies, most observers were convinced that devilry was afoot, and were prepared to believe the claim that the priest Grandier was the culprit whose sorcery had brought this spiritual infection upon the town. At one point Grandier himself was brought on to the stage before his accusers, and invited to exorcise them of the demons he had conjured. The meeting ended in bedlam. All the said energuments were shaken by the most violent, extraordinary, and frightful convulsions, contortions, movements, cries, clamours and blasphemies that one can imagine, it being impossible to describe or in any way represent them, unless by saying that it seemed to all present that they were seeing on that occasion all the fury of hell. In due course, Grandier was found guilty of sorcery, and on 18 August 1634 he was burned alive, after having first been put to the ‘question ordin- ary and extraordinary’.It was held against him that during the torture he shed no tears, but repeatedly prayed: ‘My God of heaven and earth, give me strength.’ Whether by accident or design, Grandier was not dis- creetly strangled, as was customary, but abandoned to the flames. ‘For the fire or the Devil cut the rope in an instant, and so quickly that the fire was scarcely lit before he fell into it and was burned alive without crying out. Only a few heard that he said: “Ah, my God

So soon as the depth of night fell upon the world, whilst Ngatoro and his aged wife were still in the house, and the old woman was sitting at the window watching for what might take place, she heard the host of Manaia insulting herself and her husband, by singing taunting war-songs. Then the ancient priest Ngatoro, who was sitting at the upper end of the house, rises up, unloosens and throws off his garments, and repeats his incantations, and calls upon the winds, and upon the storms, and upon the thunder and lightning, that they may all arise and destroy the host of Manaia; and the god Tawhiri-ma-tea harkened unto the priest, and he permitted the winds to issue forth, together with hurricanes, and gales, and storms, and thunders and lightnings; and the priest and his wife harkened anxiously that they might hear the first bursting forth of the winds, and thunders and lightnings, and of the rain and hail. Then, when it was the middle space between the commencement of night and the commencement of the day, burst forth the winds, and the rain, and the lightning, and the thunder, and into the harbour poured all the mountainous waves of the sea, and there lay the host of Manaia overcome with sleep, and snoring loudly; but when the ancient priest and his wife heard the rushing of the winds and the roaring of the waves, they closed their house up securely, and lay composedly down to rest, and as they lay they could hear a confused noise, and cries of terror, and a wild and tumultuous uproar from a mighty host, but before very long, all the loud confusion became hushed, and nothing was to be heard but the heavy rolling of the surges upon the beach; nor did the storm itself last very long-it had soon ceased.

Create a laugh riot.

How Tim could derive strength from death-the death of a person he loved-baffled me; I could not fathom it, but this was the sort of quality in him that made him good: good at his job, good as a human being. The worse things got, the stronger he became; he did not like death but he did not fear it. He comprehended it-once the cobwebs left. He had tried out the bullsh*t solution of seances and superstition and that hadn’t worked; it simply brought on more death. So now he shifted gears and tried out being rational. He had a profound motive: his own life had been placed on the line, like bait. Bait to tempt what the ancients called “a sinister fate,” meaning premature death, death before its time. The thinkers of antiquity did not regard death per se as evil, because death comes to all; what they correctly perceived as evil was premature death, death coming before the person could complete his work. Lopped off, as it were, before ripe, a hard, green little apple that death took and then tossed away, as being of no interest-even to death.

Just as the speaker accepts her alien lover, so she accepts her double vision, using it to combat the disorientation and sense of dissolution it has initially caused. Does her body display an alarming tendency to metamorphose into a water creature? Then she will be a fish, escaping human fear to “swim the city f’reely.” Does her body vanish from human life in “Rooming-house, Winter” so that “Tomorrow, when you come to dinner/ They will tell you I never lived here?” Then she willingly dissolves in “A Voice” since the only reality is the “voice from the other country” which “managed to think us”—and she will re-appear as that voice, the land’s spirit. Is human skin “a deception?” Then, as an artist, she will shape her own reality, transforming an egg into muscle, a bottle into an act of love, a grapefruit into a thought. Is time unpredictable; is the sun “too quick” and does it get “across the sky before/ I had time to see it?” Then she will make her own temporal laws, becoming an astral traveler through “warps/ in the old atmosphere” or freezing the past into a series of pictures—of a girl who still lives on the other side of a photograph, of a dead uncle living, of her mother skating in perfect circles as she never did in life. There are no happy endings, only the awareness that an end to chaos demands acceptance and integration of the alien point of view. The speaker of “A Place: Fragments” describes flux, alienness, chaos, and integration.