I take this title from one of Sylvia Plath’s final poems before her own suicide. The Phrase Crackle and Drag to me implies an afterimage, like when you watch the television screen and shut your eyes. You see phantasmagoria looming in your vision. This is what I hope to accomplish by my death. I want my loved ones to know that there is no malice nor ill-will in this action; I want them to know that I love them with a love that cannot be quantified; an immeasurable love deeper and wider than even I can believe. It Becomes more apparent as the moment approaches. […]
