she_sings_he_kills_things raze for their first date, they visited a mid-scale restaurant. it was her birthday, but she didn't know he knew that. he put the female chef on the spot, asking for chicken and shrimp with an artistic presentation. the shrimp arrived breaded, a culinary force-field surrounding the chicken. her face lit up beneath her short black hair like a streetlight coming on just before dawn. later they made music in his basement. he set up a pair of microphones without much thought given to their placement, to capture the ambient sound in the room. he slashed and strummed his electric guitar, coaxing jagged unresolved chords from its detuned strings. she sang and played saxophone. they improvised songs out of thin air. immediately the music had direction and it felt like they'd been collaborating for years. they started their own record label and self-released their albums. they called the label "not profound". the soul of the man who loved her first lived on in the heart of the man who loved her now. he drank for the first few years. they were still good years. they went on making music. he introduced the concept of therapeutic qualities in art with restricted movement. a "band" seemed too banal a description for what they were and what they did. but they needed to call themselves something. she thought of a name for their project: "she sings, he kills things". 130411 ... unhinged lust_hurts 180422 ... leif oh, this. 180424 what's it to you? who go blather from