A found footage film that taps into the poetic tradition of the language cut-up, while taking filmic advantage of the 26 frame displacement between sound and image inherent to 16mm. film's optical soundtrack system.-- EH"Freud said that some dreams were not meant to be analyzed. They are like 'kittens on the keys,' unintentional compositions made by scampering feline paws depressing the ivories. Here our typing pool 'kitten' is subjugated to a job audition. 'Our lady of the Keyboard' domineers, typing up a storm, proving her secretarial prowess with stabbing fingers that show no mercy ('She spares him nothing'). The Orphic clatter creates a fractured concrete poetry that sticks to us like cling wrap, a reverse dictation that supplies the text for the male narrator who recites evocative phrases ripe for miscomprehension. Italicized strophic staccato issuing from the voice but commandeered by the blade wielding filmmaker who toys with her material like a cat with a mouse. A language poetry slasher film or the keys to the kingdom? Listen: ' Is your city alive?...Devils in the distance...maples in overcoats...viral snow.' The keyboard seems connected to memory and the five senses, eliciting the smell of hot buttered popcorn and crisp autumn leaves, more related to synthesthesia than Pavlov, delivering declarations ('every word is a jewel') that are alarming and sensuous, quizzical yet ultimately intelligible in every sense of the word."-- Mark McElhatten