And her eyes are glued to watching each coffin go in, one after another before being thrown to the side and cracked open eventually by it’s own weight, reminding that we all eventually do that to ourselves. She doesn’t even flinch when I head out of the grave, attending my own funeral, getting out of the modest flowers around me, as a rose gets stuck in my scarf, but she just motions with her hand for me to remove it. Alison waits for me to get out, as I seem to make a whole notion of not ruining the flowers for whomever is behind me. Eventually she gets bored and heads out of the church, nearly bumping into the coffins, which get carried with no audience whatsoever. After all funerals are a personal thing, because it’s you leaving the world.
It’s not like I’ll die or she’ll come back again. She had told me that the warmest and nicest beds would be your last and I had snuck in, as she just watched every coffin come after another, get broken by the incoming, reminding of the death hierarchy. After the experiment of checking out the coffin, Alison just started walking much in front of me, walking by all the graves, paying tribute to ever single one of the dead by ignoring them. She had too much on her mind, which she wasn’t telling me at all, so I could only guess, by watching her or allowing herself to dissolve in the casino last night by letting her golden luck seep through her fingers and land on the dice. She kept all her winnings in the chips, stacking them up in the apartment, which was a opera house with the dogs running around. We had agreed to share it once again, allowing ourselves to sit on the opposite sides of the room, watching something which the other wouldn’t, allowing the sound to clash somewhere in the middle.
Each scratching a dog’s ear.
It was something far too unresolved, which we left hanging by sharing a brief cigarette with a flicker of each other’s eyes and some leaning in, before allowing ourselves to be back on the other sides of the room, just reminding ourselves that we run among graves now and that we barely watch each other.
KILLS ARE BACK.
So am I.
I was at a train station when Callie announced me that they're back and I actually sat there with station wifi watching it and laughing at first, because it was just so bizarre and amazing. I am so happy to have them back in my life. I don't think I love any band as much as I love The Kills, I've been listening to Doing It To Death on repeat.
The idea for the story came from the fact that I was over obsessed with the video and I wanted to do something about it, because I loved the video so much.
What struck me down as new was the fact that... is this the first video where they don't play on each other's tension entirely? It feels like it's telling two stories for once and it's amazing. It's a new era and now when I think of The Kills I want to cry because I love them so much. So that was a big backbone for the story and the cigarette sharing was a last ode to the tension they would usually play with and I left it as such because I enjoy it. Also that was included because all my stories have romance in them and that's just how I tell.
Jamie attending his own funeral has got to be the best part of the video xD
Another backbone for it was the fact that I missed writing surreal stories like Axe for Cork Extraction so I wanted to go back into writing in that style and this was the perfect chance, because the video is highly surreal.
I don't know, I really enjoyed writing this and I'm not sure if I want to pick it up again, but I don't think I have much more to tell. But I'll surely be picking up far more Kills from now, because I love them and now they're back, baby.
The title comes from the song, of course.
I hope you enjoyed it and thank you