You broke me today.
Will you like who you've made me,
now that my head's clear?
O Monday, Monday
Wait. It's not Monday today?
Well, fuck me running.
Monday, May 20, 2013
As a young man I loved Godzilla movies. They inspired me to sit down and draw my own giant monsters. I recently found a sketchbook that Zach the Lad filled with such illustrations and now I'm going to share them with you, dear reader. Please post your fan art and fan fiction in the comments section.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
How are you today? Do you like this book? I hope you do.
I'm somewhat confused by the guy on the far left. Why is there that line through his heart? Is it broken? Is he holding it up on a sign? Is it a heart balloon? He looks like he's left out. Is this a polygamy thing? Maybe he's having an affair with one of them? Or maybe the Amazon woman is just a pimp who needs two men to keep her happy (look at those eyes, man!)
"Dear God bless people that are sick, animals, our prentdent and the U.S.A. amen"
Alright. You read it once, quietly to yourself, sitting down. Now. Stand up. STAND THE FUCK UP. Stand at attention. Salute like you give a damn, pansy, and read this out loud for all to hear. Get your significant other(s) and pet(s) and strangers off the street in the room. If you don't I will come to where you live and cry and you don't want that.
This is certainly better than finding a piece of cake as a bookmark.
Does anyone want to sit with me? We'll go on a field trip. Please? I'm so lonely . . .
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
They say if you repeat one of these poems eleven times in the dark, before you fall asleep Zach will visit you in your dreams. Try it and see! Post your results in the comments section!
Punk Rock Religion
My brand new thoughtform
I, Punk Rock Super Jesus
will change the whole world
No more barriers
A sigil is made
Zazen in a mosque, sit down
Turn to face Mecca
One More Drink Will Carry Me Down
We'll pray to Santa Muerte
while drinking mescal
I want a gun
Don't want to grow old
I'll become an action hero
So give me a gun
An instant classic
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuckity fuck fuck
fuckin' shit cunt fuck
MAKE ME A SHAMAN
Fill me up with peyote
What comes next, transhuman
5:18AM, the 22nd of March, 2013
Who do do voodoo?
Don't poo-poo my voodoo, you!
I do all for you
6:31PM, the 28th of March, 2013
The Cat, recently named Freckles, sat outside Dave’s door. The Key was inside and it had been used. Either the scruffy human was already learning how to wield it or the Key was exerting its control over its current owner. The Cat was no stranger to jobs going awry but this was quickly turning into a shit snafu. The Key had to be taken and it had to be taken now. Not only was the human itself a wild card but there was no telling who else had felt the Key’s psychic scream as it had plummeted from the sky. Zeus would probably try to back out of paying the Cat now, claiming that Dionysus had already disgraced himself without having the Key stolen right out from under his alcohol reddened nose.
A pea soup fog had started to roll in. It was the hour of the wolf, that silent time in the dark after the night noises had stopped and before the morning noises had begun. The Cat relaxed, eyes all but shutting as it entered a trance state. No time, there wasn’t any time! No more stealth, this job had to end with a smash and grab. It didn’t really matter if the human died, it was only a human, and not a particularly attractive one at that. The fog thickened into a wall, opaque and sinister. It was now something that bridged worlds. The Cat could feel ghostly creatures congregating all around him, pacing and yearning for an entrance. A far off howl, the Wolf, cloven hooves striking the cement, the Boar, hot gusts of breath that smelled of honey and berries, blood and meat, the Bear. They were coming. The Cat swayed, muscles like jelly, calling to his associates across the infinite to come . . . come . . . where did that frog in a pope hat come from?
“Mao?” the Cat lost the trance, the last of the fog floating away, the beasts drifting off with it.
The frog in a tiny pope hat sat in front of the Cat as if there wasn’t anything strange about it at all. How-
“I am sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave,” Sir Gerald said with the regal air of a pond pontiff.
“Out of the way, toad, or things might start getting ugly,” hissed the Cat.
The frog’s eyes narrowed “Not a toad, I’m a frog. And you’re already ugly.”
The Cat swiped at the frog but its claws only found air. It was further perplexed by the sudden feeling of a frog sitting atop its head.
“Mer?” asked the Cat just before time and space went all wonky.
A god, a kappa, and an angel sat on a bench at a bus stop in Japan. The citizens of Oita City gave the trio a wide, wide berth. Those three didn’t have the slightest idea of where to begin in their search for the Key that Dionysus had so unceremoniously misplaced. They were in desperate need of some Deus ex Machina. The bush next to the bench erupted into flames sending Oitans running in all directions. The godling and the turtle monster looked at the burning bush like it was an old man who had farted in the doctor’s office (the angel on the other hand just looked excited to be sitting on a bench).
“Hey, God,” said Bubba and Dionysus flatly.
“Lord! Oh, sing a new song, it is you, O Lord!” shouted Jerry in praise and adulation, prostrating himself profusely. Dionysus rolled his eyes.
YOU HEARD ABOUT THIS INTERNET THING THESE MORTALS GOT? IT’S MESSED UP.
“You really need to get out more,” Dionysus said. Bubba nodded dully. Jerry kept on kneeling and bowing before the flaming bush.
OH, JERRY, DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE. KNOCK IT OFF WITH ALL THAT, WILL YA.
Jerry returned to his seat somehow more excited than ever and squeezed Bubba’s arm.
AWW, HE LIKES YOU, KAPPA.
Dionysus snickered. Bubba tried to shoot both the Lord and Dionysus a glare but he was too busy blushing.
SO, I HEARD YOU DROPPED SOMETHING, WINE GOD. AND BY ‘HEARD YOU DROPPED SOMETHING’ I MEAN THAT A HUMAN SORTA USED THE KEY TO BARGE RIGHT ON UP INTO HEAVEN.
“Fuck,” Dionysus grumbled “how many other people have you told so far, blabbermouth?”
JUST YOU. AND I’M ONLY HERE BECAUSE THE KID IS GOING TO NEED YOUR HELP AND SOON.
“Why is that?”
THE BOOGEYMEN ARE REUNITED AND THEY’RE SEARCHING FOR THIS WAYWARD KEY.
“Oh, bother.” Jerry said, for once exhibiting an emotion aside from excitement: fear. Bubba adjusted his hard hat nervously. Dionysus let out a breath that seemed to be comprised mainly of the words ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, and ‘cunt’. Absolutely nothing was going his way.
“Right,” Dionysus rubbed his temples wishing he could submerge himself in a vat of cheap merlot for the rest of eternity. “Where is the unwitting Keeper of the Key now?”
God told the three where to find Dave Frosch and extinguished the fire, leaving the bush a smoking ruin. They argued amongst themselves about the fastest way to get to America never once noticing the necromancer who had been listening to their entire conversation.
This wasn’t the name he used in public life, which wasn’t important, but it was his true name. In English this name meant ‘Eleven’. This was because he was the eleventh official necromancer in a dying order (oddly enough called the Dying Order, which sounded cool at the time but less so as membership dropped due to attrition and old age). His father had inducted him into the hidden order at a young age, filling his head with spells to summon and control the dead along with stories of the order’s beloved Great Destroyer who had been imprisoned for the last two generations. Juuichi had overseen the small sect in Kyushu as it dwindled down to a devoted few. Without their Great Destroyer to make sacrifices to and sow mayhem with, there wasn’t much to do.
Over the past couple years, Juuichi had really been phoning it in at their Damned Masses, just sort of saying the words and ritualistically killing whatever stray pets or small woodland creatures he happened to have on hand. No big deal.
But now he was excited again. Excited to start killing again! He had come out of the ramen shop just in time to hear the gods discussing his Great Destroyer and the Destroyer’s kin. Could it be true? Could the Great Destroyer once more be loose in the world? He almost dared not to hope. Almost.
Back at his home, Juuichi dropped his briefcase and kicked off his shoes hurrying to the kitchen to get his big knife. He shook his son awake and had the confused and sleepy boy lay down in the doorway. Juuichi felt his blood thundering in his veins before he slit his son’s throat, letting the arterial spray hit him in the eyes and Jackson Pollock the white walls. He couldn’t hear anything except the beating of his heart, like a drum, in his ears. With the blood of his family in his eyes he could look beyond the veil of space to find hidden things.
First, he found the one called ‘Dave’ who had this key thing that the gods had seemed so upset over. And then it was the moment of truth. He shook with anticipation as the vision went red. Rusty red, coppery dust, rocks, and mountains. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Of course this is where the Great Destroyer would be. Juuichi’s preternatural sight whipped back and forth across the blood red landscape, searching. And then there was the Great Destroyer. He was free! He was beautiful. Sitting on a pile of corpses, wearing steaming intestines like a scarf and picking his fangs with a bone splinter. The Great Destroyer was radiant in his finery.
Juuichi shuddered in ecstasy as he projected himself up and out to talk with his god. It felt like he was traveling down a tunnel of stars and as his consciousness got closer he could see the Great Destroyer more clearly and make out voices. The Great Destroyer was talking to someone. He could hear him say names like ‘Patrick’ and ‘Paul’. Juuichi was so close he could smell the blood beneath the Destroyer’s fingernails. Reality warped and buckled as his projection pushed against the astral film that separated him from his Great Destroyer.
He heard the Great Destroyer ask “You ever feel like you’re being watched?”