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dancer drawing (2011)

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My dearest Marie,

I am writing to you from the front.

Actually, I'm writing to you from the back of the front.

Yesterday we advanced midway to the front of the front, but had to retreat.

We took a most circuitous route, which led first near to the side of the front and then we skirted the left edge of the front until we made it back to the back of the front.

I was taken aback and considered it an affront that we wound up in back of the front.

In my haste to make it back to the back of the front, I put my field jacket on backwards...with the front in the back and the back in the front. Ha! It was quite a sight, and the fellows in the back of the front guffawed with much laughter...some right in front of me...and some behind my back...which to them, looked like the front.

Oh well, enough talk of fronts.

And backs.

I wish I were back with you and we were sitting in our front yard. No, wait, our back yard. No, wait once more...our front parlour.  I forgot, do we have a back parlour? If so, maybe we could be sitting back there.

What's new on the homefront?

Please write back.

Yours incessantly,


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just the lines. :)

the finger painting and the "CAN" piece were both done with straight up paint, which doesn't translate as well (looks like an extra unenthusiastic massage).. :/ but I like everything else.

by cacheth
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You said the way we fold and fade isn't fair,

Darling, I've been lost for days somewhere,

And the note in my pocket still smells just like you,

Absent of any consequence anymore, it's true,

In a dream a tall man told me you hold another's hand,

I'm sure you think quite less of me, stuck on this desert sand,

There are no road maps for where I've lost myself, no signs,

In truth I know I've been pushed to the back of many minds,

We're presented so innocent on the day of our birth, 

But the sun strikes my back to remind I've lost my worth,

I've found many warm bodies who tell me it's simply not true,

They say I'm made of golden bones and a heart that beats anew,

But they are blinded to my dusty joints and black tar veins,

The world's a cruel and strange place, love, I never had the reins,

Maybe it's not my fault, gravity pulled me to the floor,

Still I can't forgive myself for ever walking out the door,

Yes, the note in my pocket still smells just like you,

I'm still folding and fading without your love to pull me through,

Lost inside this desert, a vagrant searching for a priest,

I'm folding, fading, turning, changing, once a beauty now a Beast. 


by xanlee
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Put on your headphones! Turn up the speakers! Ho, ho, ho!

Welcome to my little Christmas film. Most of this is a REmix of the one I did last year. I added some new material at the beginning and end, so I think this is a genuine REmix. I also re-rendered the entire thing in 1920x1080 so it is much higher resolution than before. I fixed some mistakes, too. It's not perfect so please overlook some flaws. I seriously suggest downloading this and playing it on a big screeen with good speakers.

I didn't have time to start a new Christmas video from scratch (used a lot of spare time to make that WIHR video--some of which reappears herein) but this still took real effort--more than you would imagine. My poor little computers spent hundreds of hours rendering the work that took a hundred or so hours to make. I use 3ds max and Adobe Premiere, in case you are wondering. But enough about that...

I owe a HUGE debt of gratitude to grinline and his daughter, Kaya. She's a star in this little film and they really came through when I asked for their help. Her original material is here. The score is by WilliamG_music and I just love it. It was perfect for what I was trying to accomplish. Please be sure to give a recommend to both of those RECs, too. [I cannot find William's music REC.]*

I've REmixed about 171 other RECords and many have a fleeting appearance in the film. I hope that you'll spot each one but let me know if you need me to point one out. I'll try! You might also recognize the angel.

I want to thank YOU for being part of the hitRECord community and I hope that you'll accept this RECord as a token of my appreciation. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good <3


SethBang ~ Kirkland, WA ~ December 16, 2013

@SethBang on Twitter

*It took me several days to REsource all of the RECs. Let me know if you see one of yours and I have not REsourced it. I tried to get them all.

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So much amazing art on here I had to showcase it. :)

by Marya
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One by one I place my fingers where your fingerprints mark the glass, marked the glass, will mark it. You have yet to arrive. I sit on the chair you have just vacated. We are seated by the window with our backs sharing the same cushion. Suddenly, you are here, as if you have never left.

"Remember that time when we forgot?” you started as if you’d been sitting there for ages.

"I forget. What time?” I replied.

"I don't remember either.”

It was one of those conversations where we had no idea what we were saying, because we both knew it hadn’t happened yet.

We were emotionally bankrupt, you and I. I owed you more than I could pay, and you owed someone else the same. Yet I think I might've shortchanged you.

"Tell me a story first," I replied - knowing you said nothing I could reply to but it didn’t matter.

You nod but you don’t know what I’m talking about. There was an elephant in the room none of us were speaking about but that was because it was irrelevant at the time. It didn’t matter that it was in the room. Even we weren’t in the room. There was no room.

If I tried to psychoanalyse you in order to put you in a box -I know I couldn’t have done that. You defied science, truth and reality - which I liked. You weren’t a glass half-empty or half-full kind of guy. You were more of a “fuck the glass, give me the entire damn bottle!” kind of guy. That is what pulled me in to this surreal relationship. Space-time was irrelevant. Laws of nature were irrelevant. Pretty much everything, was irrelevant. Yet I never thought one day I would be irrelevant as well.

I walk towards you to face you but find myself walking back into place. I train my eyes on the back of your head and try again until the door I came through is in front of me. All I see the entire time is your back. I feel my hair raise and my skin prickle. We fall out of love only to fall back a moment later.

We share the same glass I dropped, you shattered, I got, you returned. I press my lips to the rim and feel the warmth of your breath, taste the coldness of old coffee. I look out the window and into the star-filled black-blue of void and remember you, forget you, never met you, will see you soon.

You have forgotten. You have left. You have never been here. When you come here I will have vanished and I don't know where I will have gone. I need you to find me but the bigger problem isn't where or even when. I have forgotten to tie the knot and I let you escape.

—- Dear Mignonne!

Here is my gift to you! Sorry it took me so long. You’re a very talented writer and I was captivated by some of your stories. They are surreal and they really leave space to the reader to imagine. I noticed the word “glass” as a recurring object in your writing and I particularly enjoyed reading the short dialogues. So, as you might’ve realised I remixed some of your RECords and united them in one story. I tried to make this a layered story with only two characters but they sort of exist on top of each other. One second they’re talking about something, the next they don’t know each other yet they are connected with this inexplicable cord. Still, whatever they have between each other starts falling apart and there is nothing that can be done about it. They’re in a loop.

I hope you liked your gift dear. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!



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