Interview Series (Installment #5) - Sean Kilpatrick
Electronic Blanket’s Interview Series (Installment #5): Sean Kilpatrick
interviewed by Wolfgang Carnifex
Sean Kilpatrick is a prosaist, poet, podcaster, and teacher of composition. He only ever wrote to burn his fucking name to the ground. He resides in Detroit. Sean’s work may be accessed here and here
Sean Kilpatrick
WC: Just two Detroit boys, talking shop. So… Tell me about what you’re currently working on, if anything.
SK: I’ve about completed a memoir along the lines of Glynn’s Watching the Body Burn, Hirshberg’s The Snowman’s Children and Metcalf’s Against the Country, but more mean-spirited and absurd. I’m editing a movie I shot with no money and novelizing another one I want to make set in 1990 with a Jac Mac and Rad Boy Go!, Beavis and Butthead, Bill and Ted, Wayne and Garth hyper violent, crank- glue- and spray-paint-huff-addicted thrash metal duo who (dealing with the oncoming softening of rock through the early stages of an ambivalently still-appreciable grunge era, i.e. the 1990 Clash of Titans tour in which pre-famous Alice in Chains was considered not metal enough - no extended tritone riffs) will encounter my version of raw time’s Tina Rina with the intention of taking her with them to (some hell-rendition) Valhalla (as a The Maxx style slightly-tummied fuck goddess) in a Columbine-esque massacre (Gen X obsession with killing poseurs) at which point things will become more power metal Bakshi / Frazetta / Heavy Metal fantasy slaughter-athon.
WC: Goddamn. That sounds like a must-see. And I love The Snowman’s Children. Who are some writers or artists you’re inspired by? Or ones you just vibe with presently.
SK: The memoir is a century’s end vindication of John Davidson’s testament lineage, his type of (not-Marxist) materialism that has devolved into (Marxist) reddit-speak, played, appropriately, as Sadean onanistic reverie extricating itself from the weaker intentions imposed by our faggoty times. Partway into Dave Sim’s mammoth Cerebus, one of the greatest graphic novels ever inked, grotesquely memory-holed for the most trumped up of charges – starting our false accusation epoch – because a meta-rendition of himself, twined into the abstruse and hyper-complex narrative, said a bad thing about women. Hysterically blacklisted, on the eve of Sim finishing his masterwork (2004), an early iteration of The Onion interviewed him. Important to recall that at this time politics was not so consciously warped into a 24/7 brain-diseased discourse and The Onion seemed, on the surface, to be an irreverent brand of against-both-sides acerbic mercenary rag (with some admittedly strong pieces) (same shitty trick The Daily Show bitchily delivered). Sim, however, sharpened by his experience, nailed the interviewer to the wall regarding the pillowy leftisms which would, ten years later, come to harm art more than any stuffy neocon might dream. AND LOOK AT THE ONION NOW! Sim wins.
WC: I’m unfamiliar with Cerebus. I’ll check it out. I read Berserk as a kind of holy text. Long story. Anyway, now for the “favorites” parts that no one likes to answer. What’s your favorite novel, or one of them? Doesn’t have to be a novel either, could be a nonfiction book or a manga or whatever.
SK: This repeatedly mentioned memoir of mine is meant to be as if Cioran’s aphorisms were shoe-horned into Alexander Theroux’s Three Wogs. Between these two geniuses, economy of line is met with maximalist, amplified sentence potential.
WC: Wogtastic. What is your favorite film? Or one of your favorites or some of your favorites.
SK: Only in one’s memoir can The Embryo Hunts in Secret become a sex revenge reality. The wallpapered doppelgangers of my long-dead young lust picked from early internet amateur porn (before it became monopolized as boring step-hump faux-incest because millennials are all trapped at home with their asses hanging out the fucking dryer) will twist in hell where we already reside (with the sentient malevolence, or Lovecraftian being(s), which I sense slid humanity under a microscope slide).
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WC: Fair enough. What is your favorite album? Or one of them, or some of them. Or just your favorite musical acts, etc.
SK: In the thrash metal movie (the duo are named after bands prominent on their battle vests: Death Angel and Vio-lence), Kreator would score, Pantera as the only hope for the future, and Blind Guardian and Manowar for the fantasy section. I find these bands are all I can return to considering how far the culture fell, post-2010.
WC: I’m a big Pantera fan. They’re underappreciated in my opinion. And Phil is a standup dude, helping Jim VanBebber with his underground film work. Do you have a favorite video game or PC game? Do you game?
SK: When there is a Man Bites Dog video game, I’ll concede they’ve achieved full art status, though many make a strong case. I saw a few playthroughs when reviewing games for Hugh Hefner’s son’s magazine a while ago. The game Inside is a masterpiece.
WC: Oh yeah, I loved Inside. Played it a few years ago. What are you attempting to convey with your artistic work, if anything?
SK: Hatred.
WC: Do you subscribe to any type of religion or spirituality? Have faith in anything outside yourself?
SK: I have faith in what is evidenced to me as my life being a cosmic joke explicated by unseen and irreversibly sadistic forces.
WC: If you watch pornography, what kind? Any fetishes you want people to know about?
SK: I’ve retired my porn collection, which was impressive, back when, with oft raccoon-eyed, petite, malnourished-looking Fiona Applean princesses. I shan’t imagine pursing cunt in any handheld way, except through art, painting, film, and revenge-on-paper, considering how politically correct the world worked out, how sexlessly girl-bossed and HR’d, how my in-person beloveds long since turned into uber-domesticated top-job CEO vic-trim... and how much pain I’m in daily for no good millennial reason.
WC: Lastly, since consumption is the Grand Design of this existence of ours, we like the final question to be: what is your favorite food?
SK: I’ve become bloated with sodium due to circulatory confusions. It seems to help the nonstop spinning. On occasion, I’ll slim back down on buckwheat.
Sean Kilpatrick's short work for Wolfgang's The Pixelated Shroud may be read here
Wolfgang Carnifex is the editor of The Pixelated Shroud. He lives in Detroit.
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