Welcome to Kithe issue number 13, better known as:

One of the qualifying features I declared would have to happen before releasing Mist's first post-tour pack was that we needed some more long pics and an issue of Kithe.

Foolish me was expecting this to probably take all summer, allowing for a leisurely pace.

Instead, the night before she is scheduled to go on vacation, Happyfish calls me up and asks for the articles. Frantic mag-making ensues.

Still, this mag WAS made, despite the fact that we couldn't find a coder. Drawing on her experience from our Blender #30 group entry, the ChopShop E-Mag, Happyfish took it upon herself to code this Kithe in B.EXE, the script language written and used by Eerie for the last few issues of Undergrown and Pudding. Once more, we're taking tools given into the hands of the people and actually making use of them, something which in this instance we have never seen done before.

The slogan on top of this article is slight hyperbole, as many of those articles were set aside for future issues of Kithe and many others were consolidated together to make one article out of many, but the reality is that despite the fact that this issue of Kithe was put together at the last minute, it is still one of the most voluminous and comprehensive issues we have ever released. The number 113 is exaggeration, but not by much, and that towering number was one of the reasons that this mag took so long to come out.

It was getting pretty difficult to NOT release an issue. As time went on and Mist kept going with its tour, and its host groups consistantly turning down opportunities to release joint issues of Kithe, we kept amassing and amassing and amassing articles with no release until it seemed that even if we ever _did_ want to release an issue there would be so much material that such a feat could never be done! Kithe was waiting but life was going on!

Still, outside these intellectual urges there was something deeper, baser, more primal. Some instinctive _itch._

The hand scrambles, a fleshly spider, crawling and jerking, now here, now there, looking for something but it has no eyes. It has to rely on other ways to divine its location.

It patters up a leg, then reverses direction, then halts and waits. It has caught the scent, the psychic signature. It can taste the fear.

Slowly, cautiously, it creeps down to the pant leg, then, leaping upon the moment, forcing the leg up with a rough, uneven motion. It throws itself furiously, like a ravenous scorpion, on to the exposed skin, biting through the short hair with its fine nails and scraping its hornified callouses against the shocked pink skin.

The prey, an unseemly itch, has disappeared, consumed by the flurry of manual motion, and, with a good final scratch to ensure that it doesn't come back, the pant leg is rolled back down, returning the blushing, tender flesh to decency and obscurity, then regains its tired pacing, fingertip by fingertip, up and down the course of the body, ever-vigilant in its quset to thwart the ultimate irritation.

My mind got away from me for a second there.

Oh yes - you may have noticed a few speeeling rerors in the previous segment (and in fact all throughout the magazine) - not being unusual in our art scene nonetheless as a writer I generally pride myself on my mastery of the use of words. The fact of the matter is that my keyboard is busted through and through, and above all the letter 'e'. If this bothers you to such a degree that you may find yourself incapable of reading the mag we may release a spell-checked version 8).

(onyx sat, perched upon the rooftop, like some kind of gargoyle, scanning the street below for signs of trouble, when just such a thing showed up. Cthulu, or at maybe the alien who ate him, and took his persona, made..... anOTher typo. Onyx had seen this too many times of late, but without positive proof, there was nothing he could do. The alien meneace that inhabited the once flawless typist would have at least one more day to prepare for it's confrotation with justice.)

Confrotation? Ha! He's one to talk about bad spelling.

Anyway, while this issue features more than the usual quantity (and quality, even) of articles, the code is just what we could make of it, so there will be few (if any) fancy effects and the music will have to wait until next time.

In addition, the choice in the articles is somewhat more varied this time around - we're taking it upon ourselves to spread official news about the art scene (though what is contained in this issue is somewhat old, it was current when we got it 8) as well as to spread perspectives and anecdotes dealing with nothing so much as life here in the 604. What's in here may not be relevant to you, to the art scene, or to Mistigris at all, but we can hope that no matter what it is, it will be interesting to someone.

(We've got statistics on our side.)

In any event, with this colossus out of the way, expect to see more regular issue releases (as with pack releases as well) and always look to Mistigris for invention, inspiration, and asylum.

Signing off, Cthulu of Mistigris and sundry other stuffs.