Fantastic Plastic Machine - Euphoria
pressed in 2003
W(h)ere is the wolf (t)here, you monsters of grace?
At the sight or sense of the full moon, the were of men and of beast emerges. This transformational metamorphosis occurs as a convergence of two things in one body. In the case of the werewolf, the wolf acclimates itself into the body of a human. The final shape depends on which of the two, man or beast, has a stronger vitalism.
That is why the nature of lycanthropy produces varying types of werewolves. There are some that are more wolf than man and others that are more man than wolf.
This suggests that the body is itself only a threshold. This is not a ridiculous concept. For to believe that the phases of the moon can alter our bodies is in fact true. The pull and gravity of the moon is very strong. The wolf understands this.
That is why the wolf calls to the moon. For the wolf can feel the moon's pull, yet cannot do anything about it. Neither bring it closer nor swallow it whole. The moon merely hangs in the sky glowing indifferently. This causes the wolf anguish. It's howl is a lament.
Some wolves are driven mad by their misery. A slight chemical change occurs in their blood by this lunar lunacy which makes their blood infectious. These wolves gnash their teeth and their maw salivates not for hunger but for blood. Human blood.
But their bite does something else than injury. Their bite and blood cause the bodies of those they bite to become thresholds. These infected bodies become veritable shape shifters reflecting the forever torment between the moon and her wailing wolves.
These bodies become ever open doorways into a permanent play of puissance between the moon and her wolves. For at the mere sight or sense of the moon, these bodies give up their consistency and throw themselves into disarray. These bodies become open wounds, or in a sense, lunar woundscapes of anguish and lament.
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