Introducing Synaesthesia

Fury becomes exhausting. Which is not to call it unnecessary—but we have spent a year soaking in starvation, examining the anatomy of a crash. Half Mystic Journal’s Issue VIII: Sforzando is perhaps the most prescient volume we’ve ever curated, & as we come to an end of this dissonance & defiance, we’re learning that on the other side of wreckage must lie another quiet voice, another windless light, another shade of rebuilding.

So as the sforzando era comes to a close, the Half Mystic team finds ourselves in a space of yearning for a long hard look at the world around us. We’re searching for a way to remain fully present in the sharp edges we’ve courted for the past year. We want to hear the songs that have built us & the ones that have broken us—but more than this we want to taste them. To hold them in space. To know their names.

& to that end, we’re so excited to unveil the theme for Half Mystic Journal’s ninth issue. Welcome to synaesthesia: the blue undressing of voice; the song-scent wafting on wind; the tongues of memory & light.

Synaesthesia—Half Mystic Journal’s first English language theme!—is defined as a phenomenon in which the stimulation of one sense involuntarily stimulates another sense, such that, among other things, one hears colours & sees songs. Submissions for Issue IX are open now. We want your best work, work that lingers in the liminal space of senses, work that flirts with the corporeal & sings as it stings, crimson crescendoing into copper in our mouths. Send us your writing, music, & art around the theme of synaesthesia now. The new issue comes out next year, June 2021.

& don’t forget to purchase your copy of Issue VIII: Sforzando, which is also out now! This issue eats its ghosts alive, mouth raw and open. It refuses to blink. It’s $8 for a PDF edition or $20 for a paperback, & when it cuts you open, you’ll say thank you.

We can’t wait to experience your gorgeous art for Issue IX: Synaesthesia—& as always, dear friends, we’re grateful that you’re here & reading. Even as this summer bends cruel & sharp around us, may the music rising in your throat taste as sweet as a god.