Sex and Murder Magazine

By Michael Bilinski

I have been staring at this blank Word Processor document for hours now. It never occurred to me when I sat down what a daunting task this would be. This isn’t just any note after all, this is the note. A final declaration to the world that will sum up my life and work in just a few short paragraphs to be quoted out of context on the evening news. It occurred to me that it may not be a bad idea to do a little research.

I started with Cobain. While I had grown out of his music with my high school wardrobe, there was a part of me that still bought into the idea that he was the voice of our generation. Strange how much one’s perspective of their world can change. What had once seemed like poetry from the soul of a tortured artist now read more like the pathetic ramblings of a spoiled junkie.

Moving along I came across the final words of George Sanders. I was familiar with the English actor’s work, particularly his final film “Psychomania” which has been a favorite of mine since I stumbled across a VHS copy at the local drug store as a kid, but knew almost nothing of his life and death. It is clear that we each reached this conclusion for very different reasons, but I have to admire the man’s signoff:

Dear World,

I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck.

No posturing, just simple and to the point. It is in that spirit that I will state my intentions as plainly as I can. I realize this may seem like a drastic step since I haven’t been caught, but the police dropped by unannounced again today and were far less cordial than they have been during past visits. I figure it is only a matter of time now, and if they caught me mid-cycle I would never have closure.

Twelve is a good number, an even number. People can visualize twelve. A dozen eggs, a dozen roses, a dozen donuts. There are sets of twelve everywhere in our daily lives. Thirteen? The general public is so simple-minded and superstitious that buildings rarely even have an official thirteenth floor. Anything more than that is too difficult for them to truly comprehend. I’m happy with my twelve.

When the crime scene photos are leaked, and they will be, most people will be disturbed by what they see. All that innocent, young flesh hung up like the hides of any other animal. While they may not understand or accept it, it was my job as an artist to make them feel something in a world that has become desensitized. Who knows, my work may even inspire someone.

I’ll leave you with something I learned along the way. Just before I made the first cut I would taste them. Nothing vulgar, purely scientific. To my surprise there were subtle differences between them. I kept a list which I have left in the open, along with all my other notes to ensure proper cataloging, detailing what I believe to be the products and environmental issues which have contributed to their unique flavors.

Enjoy.