Terror Suit

We introduce O2
Through tubes
Fed by two

To cut down on
Breathing patterns
Such as hyperventilating

In the presence of
Something that illicits
Fear, we’ve made it so
Anxiety is a non-issue

This contains stress
As well as the air
Conditioning system
We’ve fitted to hotspots

After testing and distressing
We’ve fitted coolant tanks
To target the legs, chest,
And head when the wearer sweats

This in effect makes
Each environment
As comfortable
As can be

That’s not even to detail
Vaporous epinephrine
Drip fed through the
O2 tubes

Not much a rebreather
As an extreme-breather
The Terror Suit
Is build to destroy chainsaws

A layer of chainmail
Even armors against
Slashing weapons with an
Anti-strangulation neck guard

Fitted to the torso
With recent studies
Suggesting it, we’ve even
Included a defib unit

All built-in, mind you

Links of the titanium mail
Insulated by kevlar
Will stand up to meat hooks
And machetes alike

Made to give the wearer
A fighting chance
Against beasts of beasts
And to keep your compsure

Reccommended you take
A weapon of your choice
To carry as you don the
Nightmare armor

May we suggest our
Terror Stick 2000?
Blessed by elders
Of every major religion

With these two items
You’re sure to stand up
To stress induced under
The knives of slashers

For only $9,990 plus tax!

It (2017) – Criticism/Review

We’ve talked about horror before at Radio Reality City, but never before have we done a full on review! So let’s take a look at a film I watched this weekend, the immortal and widely-known “It”, first penned by Stephen King. This is the second time it has appeared in a visual medium, and for the sake of the review, we’ll be looking at this 2017’s iteration. ITeration. Hell yes.

I walked into the movie knowing nothing but what a lot of the internet said: “It’s good”. I’m not really one for horror, but I do like the idea of terror; the dread that eats away at you and causes fits of paranoia or suspicion among friends. In a journal this past Friday the 13th I described what I think works in works of horror, and since I didn’t know anything about It I went in not expecting what I was getting. So with the word of virality and my own apprehension towards the trope of children combating evil, I walked into the theater with a Monster energy drink and a box of Buncha Crunch.

Before we talk about the actual movie, I’ll have the reader know that I loved The Shining film directed by Stanley Kubrick. I’ve also seen the Creepshow series of short films, also written by Stephen King. To that end, it could be construed that I unequivocally enjoy Stephen King’s work, but that’s up to you. I tend to separate individual works by artists to do away with bias.

Also this is going to be spoiler heavy, so please fuck off now if you’re worried about that.

So, It opens with a bedridden 12 year old and his 8 year old little brother sitting in the former’s second story bedroom. It is raining, so that automatically means melancholy, right? That’s how weather works in symbolism. Rain=bad or sad. Bonding is had when olderboy makes youngrunner a boat and they seal it in wax. It’s foreshadowed heavily that youngrunner is “chosen” by the evil entity when he goes into the basement and retrieves the wax to seal the paper boat. A glowing pair of eyes seems to stare at him from a cabinet, but is just revealed to be bottles reflecting light after clouds break outside for just a moment.

This is the first knock at the way Pennywise works. Fear, paranoia, and desperation. Think of him like a Freddy Kruger or Babadook type monster. Feeding on the mind in order to physically sustain itself.

Nothing happens, but youngrunner is spooked and runs upstairs. Boat is wax-sealed, olderboy and youngrunner have a moment that creates olderboy’s character and then youngrunner goes outside to float the boat in the gutters, following it to see where it goes. I guess that’s what kids did in the 80’s, because there was fuck all else to do. (Yes I know the story is 20 years updated so that the second movie takes place in the 2010’s).

So this kid is running, right, and doesn’t notice this road barrier coming up because he’s paying attention to this fucking boat, and absolutely smashes head-on into it. He drops dazed to the ground, and I start laughing to myself in the theater at this point because I’m not sure why that they needed to shoot a scene where that happens. But I understand as the boat starts to get away from him, eventually just out of reach as youngrunner (named Georgie) watches it fall into a storm drain on the side of the street.

This is where we meet Pennywise, actually 5 minutes into the movie. That sort of surprised me, but his early introduction is required in order to instill the dread into the ‘reader’.

Pennywise is a demented looking clown who talks like an intelligent bum with the soul of Ted Bundy. He talks like he’s luring youngrunner down into the drain, toying with him by holding the boat and keeping a conversation going. If Pennywise weren’t a sewer clown it might actually have been a funny conversation. Youngrunner shows visible apprehension to reaching down the drain to get it from Pennywise, and Pennywise senses this.

At this point I noticed that Pennywise has been staring at Georgie the whole time and drooling every so slightly. Which is a fantastic fucking detail that I think deserves mentioning. Later in the film, you learn that Pennywise literally eats children to sustain itself, and needs to eat to live. So we see him drooling in this opening scene, and for the most part it is just really creepy but quite unsettling when we learn that eat-child detail later on.

Pennywise convinces youngrunner to reach for the boat, and as he does, Pennywise’s mouth contorts in to a maw of sharp teeth, and he TAKES THE KID’S FUCKING ARM OFF. Blood, gore, screaming, whole nine yards, Georgie falls back into the street with blood mixing with rainwater around him. The scene goes on for a few more moments before Pennywise drags him offscreen into the sewer and all that’s left is the puddle of bloody water.

This opening scene is important to describe because it really sets the tone for the movie.

It’s something of a no-no to have gore and children mixed in American cinema, so it was good to see a horror movie (not Deadpool) fully embrace an R rating and not be afraid of it. It was fantastic, and I sat up in my seat, excited to see the rest of the movie.

What followed was a Stranger Things crossed with The Babadook styled adventure. Stranger Things because it’s set in the 80’s and enjoys itself by having some very retrowave musical cues, and the themes explored are quite similar to a Stand By Me children-versus-evil thing. It’s an 80’s movie made in 2017. The Babadook because the entire point of Pennywise is quite similar to how scenes in The Babadook were shot. Also the ‘style’ of monster mentioned above is a very effective one, since there’s only so much of your emotions you can control when under stress.

Each protagonist in It has their own fears, and Pennywise exploits these by appearing as things they are afraid of to increase his own influence over them. During these sequences he appears as the character’s personal fear, and for short moments as the clown that his common form is. This leads the characters to all acknowledge that they’ve been terrorized by the same entity. “The Clown” they all surmise at about the midpoint of the movie.

This group of misfits also has had some run-ins with the local bullies, who themselves have internal struggles that are exploited by Pennywise. The bullies are chasing one of the “Loser’s Club” (the protagonists) before he meets the club, and get off track. Chased loser gets away, and one bully stumbles into a sewer system threatening what he thinks is his quarry. During this, he is confronted by Pennywise. He also dies, so that’s cool, offscreen but before it cuts away we see Pennywise as the clown glitch-walking towards the camera.

The way they shot most of the chase sequences are like requiem, with the camera focused on one point of Pennywise’s face while the space around them moves. It’s a little disorienting, but they make it work. A few jumpscares here and there, but you aren’t being constantly assaulted because more of the story is about how he is terrifying and not horrifying. I point to Lovecraft as I describe this.

This one scene is different, though, and Pennywise glitch-walks (easiest way to make me feel afraid of something). What I mean when I say glitch-walk is that he is clearly moving, motioning forward, but with each step he teleports five feet or so in the general direction of the person he’s after. So you see him stepping, but he’s twitching and staring at you and just appearing closer and closer until… the camera cuts away. For me, that was the scariest part of the whole thing. Jump scares are good for a cheap startle, but they’re without substance. Anyone can be jump scared.

I give a lot of credit to the actors playing the losers, because they did really well. They curse, they yell, and action realistically. I especially liked Eddie as a character because his fear of germs is exploited by Pennywise at one point (appearing as a plague-ridden, deformed hobo), and the screaming he does backing away from the creature is incredible. The kids trade blows about “your mom” and yell “fuck” where anyone would, and to that end I appreciate that the movie doesn’t baby its audience. Like I said with the opening scene, the tone is really set with how seriously they’re taking the making of this movie.

So each scene has a weight, and once you know that the monster is out there it makes you as the observer slightly paranoid to see where he’s going to appear next.

Bearing in mind that we’re going to learn in the second movie that Pennywise is actually an otherdimensional creature that’s lived for millions of years and you can see where King might have taken some Lovecraftian influence. Cosmic Horror is the best horror, and it makes the ending of It so much better.

I’m a fan of action movies for the same reason as I am cosmic horror. I’d prefer a Woo film to a heavyweight Marvel movie any day because Woo films are choreographed beautifully. Marvel movies are real popcorn cinema bullshits, where you go for the spectacle and the story is very secondhand. In well-choreographed action movies, the personalities of the characters don’t just appear as fighting styles. Like in Jackie Chan movies, he’s not an unflappable powerhouse that tanks every punch with a straight face. He winces, he gets his ass kicked, and he scrapes by just as surprised as the audience that he survived. It’s a fight with personality.

‘It’ mixes the two together at the final confrontation. They’ve injured Pennywise a few times up to this point, but the protagonists have all been literally too afraid to actually do damage to him. He’s been too powerful with their fear to be hurt significantly.

The losers force him to retreat into the sewers, and go armed and dangerous into his lair. During their approach, one of the aforementioned bullies is manipulated by Pennywise to murder his dad and demands the death of the protagonists. This hints that Pennywise is running scared and is feeling threatened, so he sends his leader bully to go deal with it. Leader bully gets fucking tossed down a well to death. So that’s good. Kinda ended that threat a little quickly, if you asked me. That scene doesn’t last the 5 minutes the opening did.

So the protagonists finally have him. Pennywise. But wait, Georgie is here in his lair, and he’s alive! Olderboy who’s been looking for him this entire time takes this opportunity to shoot Georgie in the fucking forehead with a sheep-euthanizing gun. Clearly, this was a ruse by It, for a second time this fucking kid gets destroyed on screen. Not-Georgie violently transforms into Pennywise, and the protagonists finally face off with him.

Pennywise makes a few last attempts to trigger the fears of the protagonists as best he can, almost working, but the losers stand fast. He lashes out, tosses a few children into walls, and gets smacked once and recoils. The losers regroup, cautiously stepping towards It, and then realize they can do him in right here right now.

What follows is a 3 minute fucking beatdown on this evil 4th-dimensional clown while he desperately cycles through every fear he can to regain his power. Doesn’t work. It gets his fucking ass handed to him by a bunch of children. So the reason I mention choreography in fighting movies is because this 3 minute beatdown executes on every single person’s personality, mixing with the fear and resentment they have for It while these kids fight with every thing they know.

Just as an example of what I’m talking about: during the fight, It transforms into a manifestation of a female character’s abusive father, causing her to hesitate. To which she responds by sending a length of fucking rebar through his jaw.

I think it’s important to mention this, because this is the payoff for these characters being afraid of It for the entire movie. This is the moment where those bets are off and they have the thing cornered. And it’s beautiful. All these little moments for the entire movie raise the stakes, as It gets more blatantly violent and the losers discover more of the extended plot that’ll play into the sequel, to end with one final absolute “fuck you” to the manifestation of their most extreme fears. “If it bleeds…” and all that.

The movie wraps up with the losers taking a blood oath to meet up with It eventually appears again. Some sideplots are wrapped up, and everyone walks away presumably to meet up in the sequel in two years.

So what do I think of this wonderful 80’s monster flick with a tinge of Lovecraft and a lot of Stand By Me? I think it was fucking great. All told, I went in expecting to be disappointed because when everyone said Twilight was good I was disappointed by that (New Moon was good, though). But it was an amazing little adventure in the small town of Derry, and I absolutely will look forward to the 2019 sequel.

Lovecraft Influence: Event Horizon Levels

Audience Dread: Like My 3rd Breakup so 3/4

Tropes: Palatable and Diversified

R-Rating Worthy: Way More Than Deadpool

Nostalgia Trip: I Want To Watch Stand By Me Now

Beatdown: Like Cleon in The Warriors

Final Verdict: Great Movie Go See It

Too Spooky – Journal 10/13/17

Hey, it’s Friday the 13th in October 2017! Let’s do something cool about it! Nope. Let’s be sick instead and read about urban legends, why don’t we. I suppose we could talk about horror! That’s always fun, to look at intention behind some art and see what it means.

Let’s go over two different kinds of fear, first. Physical: harm to self or others; and Emotional: psychological stuff. These two in tandem work to create masterpieces of suspense, pacing, and dread.

The Friday the 13th films deal not with psychological, not at all. But movies like The Babadook definitely do! Is one better than the other? It’s sort of in what you go for!

No one watches Friday the 13th for complex plot developments or deep character arcs. People watch them because they want to see what Jason does to a bunch of hapless counselors intruding on his place of death. Wonderful little urban legend stirred in, add some special effects, and make the antagonist a ruthless, brutal machine of hatred and you’ve got some real popcorn cinema!

The Babadook, though? Oh, that’s an entirely different beast, and one that really gets to me. It’s about the paranoia of action and the downward spiral of a person’s mental state. Over the course of the film we see our protagonists go from slightly okay to not okay at all whatsoever, as they feed this growing menace with their internal anguish. It’s not about what the monster does, it’s about what it doesn’t do. That’s pretty nice. Make the characters all go into hysterics and kill themselves. Not like Jason, who would rather smash spines and punch heads off.

Both are effective in their means, but if you’re not afraid of gore then he won’t freak you out much. Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street tackles this problem in a different way, for the entire reason he exists is because people have nightmares about him. That’s pretty good! Literally one of your most vulnerable states, and you have to blame your subconscious for thinking about him while you can’t do a thing to stop it from doing so! Awesome! That’s pretty psychological with an element of flesh ripping!

Yet there are even creatures that can be scary just by existing. Their very appearance or idea is unsettling enough for the observer to render themselves into a frenzy.

To that effect, I point to one thing. And I know I’m gonna get some groans and people calling me out, but here it goes. The Slenderman.

Yes, that great craze that swept the internet in the early 2010’s is a concept I still find terrifying. Not exactly in the execution of said idea (back then, anyways), but the concept is a good one.

Take a thing and run it through the uncanny valley, and have that thing do nothing but creep closer to you when you’re not looking. This can be literally anything as long as it’s uncanny enough. There can be a hat on his head, he can be wearing polka-dot pajamas, but if you take his appearance and his movement alone, it can be fantastic.

It’s about setting up expectations. Lovecraft did this when describing and naming his creatures. They were so unnatural that just looking at them would make you go insane, trying to understand how it existed. Makes you want to imagine it, huh?

But in the expectation of a creature such as the Slender Man (SCP-173, to a lesser effect), it comes with its own legend and the whole ‘why you’re supposed to be afraid’. In his case, it’s because he kidnaps you, takes you up into tall forests and impales you on the uppermost branches. That’s reason enough to be afraid of something getting you, and the anticipation of that happening adds to being fearful of him.

In execution, let’s say in his game (since that’s his most popular appearance aside from the awful MarbleHornets series), we do not at all see that happen. We only have the forest to roam around, collecting bits of paper, and we know he’s out there. Atmospheric music, loud booming footsteps, and we can’t look at him for long or else he gets you. The fear is in trying to survive. Not knowing where he might appear next, and knowing that he looks so unnatural that you will bend trying to understand what he is. It hits quite a number of good levels. Shame the games do it only that justice.

We can look at this idea in a different interactive medium. In Call of Duty: Black Ops 3, there is an easter egg on the new Nuketown map. One of the most popular maps in the series, actually. But this map has an odd feature about it in that it’s a nuclear test site, built up to represent a small neighborhood. As such, there are cars, mannequins, houses, and everything you’d find in a normal cul-de-sac.

The terror starts when you enact the easter egg in this particular game. When you do, the music stops. The mannequins all disappear. Then you’re being followed by them when you aren’t looking. when you turn to face one, you turn back and another has closed another ten feet to you. Never seeing it move. And then you get hit by one, turning again, and suddenly there are three right beside you.

A zombie-genre kind of terror, where the creatures are honing in on your position, all the while when you’re not looking at them. Although in Call of Duty you can fight back, still you eventually succumb.

That’s a great segue into zombie stuff! I liked World War Z and the survival guide by Max Brooks. Even liked Left 4 Dead, which both have the option to fight back. Apocalyptic type stuff is always good, but we always more focus on the survivor’s stories more than the actual zombies. The zombies are just a background to what happens when society breaks down and humanity has a common enemy. The Walking Dead has a great run of its survivor characters and their dynamics, but the zombies aren’t really part of the action (besides the actual glorified action scenes). I think it falls flat, the TV series, because it just keeps running with a rotating cast that die. Nothing interesting.

What Left 4 Dead did is give a payoff and satisfying ending to the entire saga. One member of the original cast ends up sacrificing himself during the group’s ultimate escape, facing down a horde the likes that had never been seen and zombies the size of tanks. They ended it with the character arcs resolved, everyone changing, all while developing bonds over a short period of time and escaping the apocalypse. It’s cool to see. Still, you could argue that isn’t really horror as much as it’s a drama, and I agree on that side. Zombie stuff isn’t horror.

Unless you want to roll with something intelligent like the infected from 28 Days Later. The zombies in Left 4 Dead have a similar thing, where they run and scratch and claw as well as bite. They flank, cut off routes of escape, and are overall more entertaining to watch than a horde of stumbling undead. They’re intelligent, and that makes them terrifying. The action isn’t about having a nice jog away from a bunch of zombies, the action is about staying quiet and getting by these things unnoticed. And if you are noticed you better hope you’re equipped to fight it, because it’ll probably eviscerate you before you can do anything.

Let’s go back to a series real quick, the SCP series who’s sole purpose is to pump out monsters and describe them in a docudrama style report. One other creature from that series is SCP-087, which is an endless, increasingly dark staircase. Upon which is a ghost or wraith of some variety that attacks people that descend too far down. There’s also the sound of a girl crying, always seeming like it’s about 20 flights down. Incentive, lure, intelligence.

Fiction about possessions or things of that sort never really got to me because it’s just a ghost of a person in a person. This equals out to be one person, with the intelligence of a person. That’s kinda horrific, but at the same time I’m pretty sure I could hurt a ghost with a baseball bat if I really wanted to.

Let me ground all this in something that I’m doing for Halloween. My family loves Halloween, doing a haunted house in our garage down in California every year we lived there. It became quite an attraction, and as I got older I was more interested with scaring than trick-or-treating. I’ve always enjoyed the Slender Man easy jump scare tactics because they work wonders on people just walking around.

I own a ghillie suit (see: sniper suit), because one year all I did was pretend I was a bush until someone walked by, to which I would then stand and freak them out by simply being. Suddenly watching what is supposed to be an inanimate object rise and start surging towards you isn’t a great thing.

My costume from the last few years has been using that Corvo Attano mask I made (in the Sculptures section of radioreality.city) and what I call the “mannequin tactics”. To move when your target isn’t looking, and simply stand there as an imposing figure with a freaky face.

Might break out the ghillie suit this year and do that, but I don’t know where I’ll be Halloween night this year. See, on Halloween night there’s an expectation to get scared but you don’t know when that will be. It’s the suspense in being afraid that helps in media like with the Slender Man, but the actual scaring is where it’s at in practice. When you’re not actually a demon pinning people to tall trees.

You ARE the tree! And you’re freaky!

Thanks for tuning in to another long-winded journal. It turns out I think a lot more than I let on about intention behind writing. Who knew?

Satisfaction – Journal 8/23/17

It’s when you finally can knuckle down and start a short story centered around H O R R O R!! It finally happened after so long threatening, I was able to get 1,000 words out today from scratch about a gentleman waking up after a night of getting blackout drunk at a party to find that he doesn’t know where the fuck he is. I do like some abstract horror, but one of the most terrifying things to me is being totally alone with zero direction. So I’m toying with ideas about where he is, what’s gone on, and have spun some pretty good plot threads already to take it a little further. Ha haaaa! Fuck you, writer’s block!

And my Overwatch rank is falling thanks to a couple of games where I got stuck with people who only wanted to throw matches. Fantastic. Gives me time to focus on photo editing and stuff.

In the spirit of that, I took to some old files and wandered around nostalgia. Turns out that back in November of 2016 I took some killer shots of trees and stuff. Like this one!

november tree

Isn’t that a beauty? It’s even taken in a combination of settings I don’t think I’ve used yet! So I dredged up some nearly year old photographs that I somehow didn’t notice when I was gathering up all the good ones! One step towards progress! I’m even popping this one into the sidebar because I like it so much.

On the idea of photography, I’ve recently been in contact with someone about doing photoshoots. I’m really good friends with a career cosmotologist and she is super down for the idea of doing shoots on location, at events, pageants, and wherever else we can think of! More news to come when that’s going to start!

I’ve been taking trips back to revisit ideas I haven’t yet started off on but meant to. For example, in my last relationship I had planned on writing a quite endearing poem called ‘That Bellingham Girl’, yet never got around to actually writing it. How would I go about it now? I still think it’s a good idea, but it’s a particular idea that has some attachments to it now. Not baggage, exactly, but is it in good taste? I need to be in the right nostalgic mood for it to get going. Some old photos I scrolled past helped a little bit with that, but not enough to write.

Since I have been taking a look at old ideas, though, the presses have been moving! This excerpt’s gonna be from “Solar Flytrap”, a poem about Ellensberg I have been neglecting since this month started:

“It sits in its own dimension
Nourishing Kittias
And feeding the valley
Where they do not but sustain

Themselves for what?

Just to prevent decay
To never wither past the sword
And take blows upon the chin
Of the shield so they may stay”

Yep, that city has properly vexed me. I’m happy about it! Maybe even enough to make memories there and maybe have an “Ellensberg Nights”.

Reminding you that my collection Olympia Nights is on Amazon, ready for pre-order at a dollar a piece you get 56 poems I have penned about my experiences in Olympia! It’s a story, it’s made memories, it’s reality! Check it out here!

And speaking of poetry, I have recently taken some great care to overhaul the poetry page on the site, and I’m happy to say that my full archive is now up for looking through! Used to be, I was capped at showing you a hundred out of the hundreds of my poems, but I’ve worked it out so that everything can be seen! Curious to see something I wrote back in March of 2015? There’s a section for that now, and you can get started at this link: Poetry!

Today I’ve been listening to “Alive” by Battle Tapes. Their album Form just came out and I am enjoying the hell out of it so far. It’s accompanying some job shuffling (possible promotion in the works!), the end of my summer, and an uprising of my pen once again. Hell yeah.

That’s the update on what’s going on in Radio Reality City! Hope you all enjoy, hope you all stick around to listen where the waves go!

Uncanny Mannequins

Dark skies
Dark city

Lights popping
Glass rattles to streets
Lonely and windowless
No place to hide

But among all the shade
There are things
Not human
Mannequins unflinching

They follow you

Staring at you
With lifeless desire
To make you one of them

Stood frozen
Like they were once
Calmly walking
But necks twisted to you

Eyes like buttons
Sewn on and looking
A thousand yards
Through you

You may turn around
And back again
And there they will be
Much closer

Don’t move
But they reach far
When you look back
They reach for you

Hungry, falling,
Mid-sprint, it seems
Stopped short
Only your gaze

Try to escape
Run away

Turn your back
Around again

Faces canvas base
With anticipation
At hurting you

They trek
Same as soon
As you turn back
To see them close in


By the crowd
Forming a
Mob of the kind
That was never alive

Plastic hands
Wish to throttle
Your neck

Beat you
To death

Turn around
Back again

Acrylic iris
Than it
Should have been

Mere meters now
Could hear its pulse
If it were breathing

Then as you turn
An arm
Of plastic and steel

Hits your head hard

You turn to see
A mannequin
With uncanny face
Of evil glee

In the distance
Another streetlight


A flicker
Where nothing
Could be under
It were quicker
Than a mannequin

Another small mob
Appears there

Casual wear
White plastic bare


Stepping back
More behind you
A bleeding forehead
And nothing to show

But the mannequin
Who struck you
And all of his
Friends blank smiling

Glass breaks nearby

Try to escape
Run away


They will
When you
Aren’t looking



Try to escape
Run away

They follow you

Sun’s Up, Guns Up – Journal 6/25/17

One thing about summer in Washington is that the entire place is ill-equipped. People’s reactions tend to be a little overstated. Somehow, every single year, the hardware stores of the Pierce and King counties sell out of fans. Every year? Where the fuck are the ones from last year going?

Anyways, the hot weather is in full swing here. 96 degrees today after some pretty damn temperate weeks. It hit all at once this time, and I’m struck with nostalgia of camping trips from last year as well as the occasional hike. I hope I can find a group to go with this season now that I have some proper gear and a good camera to snap things with. I have someone that’s willing to go up Mount Si with me, thankfully. I shall definitely come back from that trip with some damn good photos.

It’s been really interesting lately as I experience some grief with that mentioned nostalgia as well as the nostalgia for everything long since past. For example, in my last journal (maybe the one before) I mention how, stylistically and symbolically, the seasons represent different stages of life/maturity/wisdom. Autumn has a lot of value to me, and in autumn I always feel very free and alive, in stark contrast to its classical meaning in literature. Summer is supposed to be a time of freedom and innocence, for lack of a better term, yet this time I’m not feeling it yet.

Hot weather brings it back a little bit. And as I come off of some waves of grief from this weekend about pathways I’ll never be able to step another foot on, resisting all the while temptation to step back and see if some pathways are still there, the heat has finally arrived.

Today I’m listening to Kauf’s “Pacify”. Highly recommended to check that one out. It reminds me of this time, this kind of heat. Similarly to how I have ties to Xilent’s “Kill Me” when I’m thinking about Mount Si, I think of “Pacify” in nearly the exact same way. I believe it was the same place I discovered them, North Bend. There’s a lot of webs, and that’s part of the intrinsic value of music.

A piece of art doesn’t have to mean anything in particular. There is no one correct meaning to it, that’s why it exists. It’s whatever it means to you. Subjective, some pricks like to say. Me, I think it’s just in taking what you need from it.

Listening to “Pacify” on the 96 degree drive from work today, I got goosebumps. That’s what art is supposed to do.

This would be the second time in a while that I’ve rambled with not much prompting. I fear in this wave of grief I’m vulnerable again, which would mean looking back at those pathways now (I like to think) gone. There’s always some pain in that nostalgia. Summer means we look ahead.

In the spirit of that, I’m writing for a website now! https://ageofshitlords.com has now been graced with the presence of myself! That should be a lot of fun. Large audience, content I like to consume and talk about, so that should be quite fitting.

As for writing creatively these days, my taps haven’t run dry but I haven’t been able to come up with a lot lately. Seattle didn’t urge a lot out of me, but in its stead that grief wave crashed into me. This always prompts me writing and gushing out some bullshit into a format anyone else would care about. So I have that poem “Brave” from being in Seattle, and this journal’s excerpt from a poem called “Illusion”:

“As the knife of fate
Between your fingers
Is cast at the target
Fixed to the wheel

I want you to cut me deep
And reveal that this is what’s real”

In which the poem is about what in these relationships is real, hence the title. Seeing through the white lies and all that stuff. Relationship poetry tends to be my strong suit, unless we’re talking about abstract stuff. In that case, I’m your damn man.

Tonight I’ve resolved myself to the downstairs of my house where it’s cooler, putting on some music videos on the TV, with the intention to do that whole “be inspired” thing that people who do NANOWRIMO can fucking do so well. See what muses and demons I can summon and make happen on the page.

More and more I find myself vexed by horror. I think I need to do something with that very soon or else I’ll go crazy.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll be updating here when I get articles onto Age of Shitlords, as well, because that’s pretty exciting! More photos incoming, always more poetry, and meanwhile I’ll try to expand the site a little more in terms of the content I put out. I keep trying to find ways to make the journal side here a little better. Maybe less rambly? What do you think? I’d love to hear it.

Happy reading, Radio Reality. City-ers! All 202 of you! This is only ever going to get better!

Mossman Cense

Burnt graphite from
Wooden pencils
And charred ink
From cheap pens

Clashes with the dark halls
Of college buildings
Flashlight lit to
Permeate paranoia

Waterlogged woods in rain
Into Green River
To runoff and drain
Through blacktop lanes

A lurking wraith
With no legs
Silent hovering
Stalking the place

But a face
Frozen in horror
And hooded reach
To touch with dank hands

Of mossy fingers
Slowly roaming
These somber halls
Plying as it goes

The spirit of Green River
A marshy haunting in
Grim labyrinthine corridors:
Neurosis be thy name

Neoplasmic Katsaridaphobian

Neoplasmic Katsaridaphobian

An invasion
Of gross numbers
By horrible brown scouts

Into infrastructure
Behind bone
Behind flesh
They nest and rest

Big black alien eyes
Unseeing antennae
Reaching out to probe the space
Spreading filth with a hideous face

Multiplying in the body
Where the frame homes a hive
Nesting in wait
Pestilent surprise

To skitter around
Insects of infection
Sapping the home
Of breath to take

Rusts wing of flaps in wake
Seeking a source
A cold, damp corner
For hive to make

Chewing with mouthparts
Consuming the trash
Multiplying uncontrollably
Spreading their malignance

Sprinting spindly legs
Rushing from cover to cover
Reaching the amygdala
Crawling underneath skin

Ootheca eggs hatching
Hatchlings swarming out
Spreading through the veins
Contaminating healthy vanes

Expenses paid
For radiation
Can’t stem the swell
Of dirty insects

No cure
No symptoms
Until it’s too late
To abate

No poison to eradicate
Or traps to intoxicate
Just twisted pitch alien eyes
And the ravaged home they brutalize

Mute Quake

Mute Quake



Footsteps pulsating


Intruder stalking


Paranoia steeping


Shades illusory

Hallucinating specters
Horrifying ghosts
Smokey mirrors
Nerve-racking trespassers

Dangerous wraiths

White noise
Terror evinced
Poltergeist vision
Static reception

Unsteadily searching

Through the hallways
Muffled feet walking
Cautiously creaking boards
On floors proximate

A prowler lingers

Falling dust from ceiling
Skittering and clattering above
Sweat beads on forehead
Anxiety tingle is elevating

Sensing sinister shuffling someplace

He won’t be found
He can’t be found
Not until
He finds you

Something behind

Rattling in
The hallway
Yet when turned to face
Nothing is there

Pitch heightens

Shadows fluctuating
Shapeshifting audio discrepancies
A voice from below

It’s only nothing
Reverberating off
And walls

Silhouette in window

Morphs away into a
Tangling rose bush
Blowing in

Grey shapes


Something here is off


In a



It sat there
For as long as I can remember
The vase
Sat there

It held great purpose
It was ancient
Saved for ceremonies
And rituals of insight

It was adorned
Quite intricately
With runes of old ones
Carved delicately

When it was created
All those eons ago
The creators sought
To tame something

Mere mortals
Set out to trap
The power that defeated
Their forerunners

A deity
Worshipped by modern cults
Which cleansed worlds before it
Was the victim

The snare was set
With arcane power
Forged by the men
Who thought they could tap it

And yet this ancient god knew
Exactly where blame is pointed to
When the victim was captured
Or so its “masters” believed