Jamie Grefe

Grind, Dear Friend, Grind MONDO FATALES ACTION

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abattoir incident

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corridor three

deerhead puppets

doom horizon

drops shots

drowned girl

dusk lung

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headcheese

horizon regained

interior sloth

jones's girl

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muck child

mondo ben

nip down

orange shinjuku

over thirteen

palm desert

pierce's doughnut

pigs gather

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spring breakers

tanzer's mouth

the end

traumathurge

threaten me

touchability

ugly mouth

unfisting

venom mouth

vinegar cutlery

wet spot

wilson's diegeses

worm holes

your hand

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  1. Noise ///

    I used to make noise music. Inside me, I probably still do. Maybe it comes out in the writings. If not, that’s okay, too. I’ve played basement shows in Seoul, stood babbling alone into a microphone in Tokyo. I recorded albums on labels like Self-Satisfied, Knife in the Toaster, Swampland Noise, and others whose names I’ve forgotten. I edited sound-art for Rudolf Eb.er and have seen the buckets he kept in the closet.

    Christmas is near. It is time for noise.

    If you write a review of THE MONDO VIXEN MASSACRE somewhere on the Internet, especially Amazon or Goodreads, I want to reward you with a batch of my homemade noise, whether that be a rare live set, a collaboration, or an entire album’s worth of quality extreme noise. All you have to do is write the review and send me the link (and the email address where you want me to send the files).

    My email address is in the “contact” section (on the left sidebar). Or, you can easily reach me through Facebook.

    Thank you to those of you who have already purchased the book. You’re helping to support my dream and my life. Honestly, there were times when I was writing MVM and I was only fingers and eyes, mainly fingers, fingers and music. I think if you read the book, you’ll understand. The vixens do.

    Thank you.

    Camp Grefe

  2. Night Comedy of Lunatics + After Charity

    Mad Hit Lit presents Night Comedy of Lunatics + After Charity

    image

    J. Grefe - Writer: Facebook

  3. hypnoticlandscape:

masahisa fukase

I lived in Japan for six years, and some part of me is still there. I remember the crows in Tokyo, the black dots of Ibaraki, crows so unafraid of you and so in love with glittering and black they might pluck out your eyes just to get close. “They are smart,” some would say. “They are thinking.” In Japan the power lines, electrical wiring systems, superconductors, grids—words I don’t know well—are the roadside temples of night driving like the green lights in the field from Tsukuba to Bando, Bando to Moriya. They built a rail system to Tokyo. Forty minutes of electricity. I’m not yet sure what this photograph by Fukase-san means to me, but I could be with those crows, be back there in that grain of speaking backwards Japanismo, eyeless with those crows. Yes, some part of me is still there, some still part.  hypnoticlandscape:

masahisa fukase

I lived in Japan for six years, and some part of me is still there. I remember the crows in Tokyo, the black dots of Ibaraki, crows so unafraid of you and so in love with glittering and black they might pluck out your eyes just to get close. “They are smart,” some would say. “They are thinking.” In Japan the power lines, electrical wiring systems, superconductors, grids—words I don’t know well—are the roadside temples of night driving like the green lights in the field from Tsukuba to Bando, Bando to Moriya. They built a rail system to Tokyo. Forty minutes of electricity. I’m not yet sure what this photograph by Fukase-san means to me, but I could be with those crows, be back there in that grain of speaking backwards Japanismo, eyeless with those crows. Yes, some part of me is still there, some still part. 
    High Resolution

    hypnoticlandscape:

    masahisa fukase

    I lived in Japan for six years, and some part of me is still there. I remember the crows in Tokyo, the black dots of Ibaraki, crows so unafraid of you and so in love with glittering and black they might pluck out your eyes just to get close. “They are smart,” some would say. “They are thinking.” In Japan the power lines, electrical wiring systems, superconductors, grids—words I don’t know well—are the roadside temples of night driving like the green lights in the field from Tsukuba to Bando, Bando to Moriya. They built a rail system to Tokyo. Forty minutes of electricity. I’m not yet sure what this photograph by Fukase-san means to me, but I could be with those crows, be back there in that grain of speaking backwards Japanismo, eyeless with those crows. Yes, some part of me is still there, some still part. 

  4. Traumathurge

    Somewhere I speak Chloe Sevigny and Isabella Adjani to Arcturus. But in order to tear us apart, Gallo and Neill would have to project themselves like holographic vapors of transcendence. Here is the Traumathurge where we meet and become dirt. 

  5. Battle Lion

    Glossi.com - Battle Lion: Jamie Grefe

    Click to view Battle Lion: Jamie Grefe on GLOSSI.COM

    This short magazine showcases six previously unpublished pieces and features original photographs from Michigan, Tokyo, and Hainan. The following pieces appear in this issue: “Sitting Fire,” “Fifth Folio: Production Notes,” “Knuckling Water,” “Apple Tongue,” “Battle Lion,” and “For Nick Cave.” I hope to make more of these Glossi’s in the future. Thank you for reading.