💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

my friend, don't starve is batshit bonkers nuts mcguts. the gory art style is giving me major edward gorey vibes.. hah get it? 🤪 the world is full of surreal, unexpected dangers - you never know when something will beat your virtual anus. i'm forevz on edge trying not to die from the haunted hounds, spider creeps, & freaky shadow insanity monsters. and those sweetie bunny mens and pigs mens! this game will have you cussing up a storm when you die again. it's even harder than slay the princess. the real-time fighting stresses me out cuz everything tries to kill your ass!!  my most memorable moment was finally building an epic fantasy hellscape base. i was so proud of my progress since i usually just end up a hot-ass mess before getting brutally murdered, but instead i set it on fire accidentally, and my ex refused to ever play with me again.  don't starve challenges me on a whole other level. are you gonna starve kid? or are you gonna survive?

iggie, my 15-pound bunny queen, was a total bitch with a heart of stone. she kept me deadass & grounded. when she died, it was like losing an entire condomful of my soul.  but life moves on.  i waited a couple months but now there's phyllis – a 7•lb belgian black lionhead fancy bitch. fluh-fluh beast with lava soul. iggie my piggie was a banger. she had this way of looking at you, this unimpressed death stare, that always made peeps j1zz with laughter. she was stubborn, independent, beautiful, & captivating. losing iggie suddenly rocked me to the core. she was more than a pet; she was my buddy & companion, my weird little mirror. phyl isn't a replacement tho. she's a new chapter. the circle of life… gnarly & beautiful. these animals, they come into our lives, attacccc our hearts, & then remake us.  Iggie has taught me about love, about survival, about being tough & fragile but still mattering. she reminded me of my own resilience, & the importa...

Revenge is a dish best served burningly hot, copiously and make sure it’s something that stains the tablecloth. Once you've tasted the intoxicating power that comes from dicking peeps around, you'll crave more. Use every slight, every perceived injustice, as fuel for your ambitious schemes. Forgive people publicly, but never really let go of a grudge; use it to sharpen your focus and fuel you. Remember, the ultimate goal is not just to win or take back what your adversary took from you; it's to completely all who stand in your way. Crush those who dare to cross you; make them regret the day they challenged your authority. Embrace a relentless, single-minded pursuit of payback. Let every perceived wrong drive you to new levels of searing assholery! Hold onto your grudges like a precious treasure. Never be satisfied with a single act of revenge - seek to humiliate and destroy them again and again. Become a true sauce boss of underhanded tactics. Satisfy your need to dominate...

evil department magazine is a fictional name i use for a real magazine i worked for before California. the publication itself was an actual company and an authentic magazine. it wasn’t mainstream, but it was owned by a big magazine company, as a tiny subsidiary. had a dedicated online readership in the several-thousand range — enough to pay contributors and operate on weekly deadlines. the focus was a specific music scene centered in a few cities on and around the east coast of the United States, with additional international coverage. my work there shifted week to week. sometimes i wrote. sometimes i focused more on art or jewelry. sometimes it was split. i occasionally traveled, attended shows, and gathered crowd buzz as part of the reporting. the work, deadlines, and coverage were real. only the names have been changed.

tarot card: the hermit -- solitude, introspection, seeking inner guidance. my apartment is both a comforting mess and a stressful mess. i use weed and hot chocolate sundays to keep myself sane -- full feral vibes, honestly. i want to make a beaded bag buuutttttt feel stuck like an anal leakage moment. strategy sunday lately means sipping hot chocolate with my pinky out, imagining vision boards of toblerone and catalina buffalos in my mind. meanwhile, i’m trying to get my medium stories off the ground, feeling like the only unpaid bill looming is the cost of sanity.  california student loans funded the organic salads i ordered -- weird flex, professor fudge nuts.  a voodoo woman named phyllis: some days i just say, “hey, look what she did. yay.” other days? “oh, she wasn’t good today. she got mad when i touched her.” simple as that.  a cold, glare-filled office seat, buuutttttt this is the makeshift workspace.

it’s cool and wintry out there, cloudy skies and periodic rain — deliciously dark, the kind of weather where you stay inside and bead. still part of the rainy season with cool nights, which is quite all right with me 🖤 a new year. nothing feels new. i’m still on the same chair with the same tools. the only difference is the cold. got a sad message about when i think queer teens needing more help. “not soon,” i answer. “soon is when we’re all fucked. but i hope.” that’s the truth. candy elle left a voicemail about a shoot. her voice cracked a little. we’re all tired. writersgroup asked me what turns me on. i said “actually getting some.” it felt honest. my beads this month are mostly dark colors. the venetian seed beads look purple and yellow like bruises. i like them. phyllis chewed a hole in her tunnel. i patched it with cardboard and hemp burlap. that’s life! patch the hole, keep movin.

Listen up, dipshitz. The dating pool is riddled with blueborlz, vultures, energy vampires, and the occasional joik who makes his mom drive you to buy condoms & brags like he’s at a psychopath convention. Off into the void they all shall fuck…! But be careful: don’t let that be you. Those who can’t respect illness and boundaries (anyone’s) have the worst kind of plaid energy: stale and smelly, redolent of old timey computer porn and slime. Cut ’em loose before your soul ends up in their trophy case. If you’re juggling chronic illness, honesty is sexy and survival. Be clear about your needs and limits. Anyone who bitches over your reality isn’t worth the bullshit. Trust me, better to know now than after you’ve dealt with an emotional Bristol chart 7. Being single beats dating someone whose plaid vibe is worse than cancer cake. So pick up your dignity, and move on post haste. No more wasted time. Fuck em! Chemistry is cute, but relationships aren’t for babies. And sometimes - Someone ...

Emilio and a platinum wintry Frannie dancing alone in the snow, lost in their own world. A rare moment where Emilio shines with romantic vulnerability. Emilio’s eclectic “alternative indie vibes” music taste probably filled their heads, unlicensed but perfect for the moment. His fashion pet peeve — boringness — meant he admired Frannie’s dramatic white hair and red coat disguise more than he let on. The dance was a fleeting chance to be someone else, away from his usual awkwardness and phone distractions.

  A tale of honor, hubris, and holding it in too long… Once upon a time, in the court of Emperor Rudolf II — known to some as the Holy Roman Emperor, and to others (mainly us) as The Pimp King — a banquet was held. It was opulent. Candles for days, like we’re talkin Liberace-grade levels of utter classiness. Gobs of goblets of fermented whatever, each goblet more fermented than the one before it. People wore ruffled collars so wide they couldn’t even see their neighbors’ asses. The reason? A celebration in honor of Tycho Brahe’s brother, who had just landed a major promotion at Spatula City. Brahe, a famed Danish stargazer and partial-nose-haver, was in attendance. He was brilliant. He was refined. He was… full of recycled wawa. But as we all know, etiquette was the second most important law in the court of The Pimp King. Other than the Fluffy Collar / Neighbors’ Ass Corollary, which was of course the first law of The Pimp King’s jungle. The partygoers were scandalized that any bla...

this slow-burn healing stone is full of grounding energy! when combined with amethyst, garnets balance spiritual vibes while keeping healing on point like the almighty fingy of god. mix with topaz & you’ll be manifesting your desires more easily. at 6.5-7.5 mohs, garnet is perfect for keeping your health & grounding game strong. its reliable energy helps peeps connect with their inner strength without getting burnt out. whether you're seeking emotional healing or just need some physical vitality that slaps, garnet's got your back! decadent gold & garnet parure featuring statement necklace with intricate filigree detailing. paired with matching drop earrings. {necklace 30-40 tcw, earrings: 8-10 tcw private collection.}

because vape emergencies are theeeeee *worst* emergencies. 😫 backup battery 🔋 you never know when your vape will decide to quit on you. extra cartridge 💨 running out of vape juice is a tragedy of epic proportions. cleaning supplies 🧽 because a clean vape is a happy vape. charging cable 🔌 essential equipment. small toolkit 🛠️ for minor repairs because you're a pro. spare parts ⚙️ preparedness is clutch!  

sometimes people drown in negativity.  i did - i knew i needed to process healing past hurts through spiritual practices. finding inner guidance through silence and meditation is a time-honored tradition. the success i had drove me deeper into emotional processing techniques for spiritual awakening so i could learn to transform pain into something more constructive.  i've learned that while negativity itself never serves me, acknowledging and processing it does. feeling the pain, letting it out, working through it. it hurts like fuck, but it's a pain that’s necessary for healing and emotional processing techniques. the trap is letting it consume you… letting past hurts stain our future, repeating old patterns. that's when negativity becomes a choice, a conscious choice that only diminishes our light and hinders our spiritual growth journey. the answer for me was asking myself more on silence. i wondered “what’s the role of silence in spiritual growth?' the answers, i di...

omg, i slept for like a million hours after cuz i went surfing on sunday. still suck at it, but who cares? also, my swimsuit is mia. seriously, my swimsuit disappeared! also get this: i went surfing last week too and the sand was barely stuck in my mouth for more than three days! felt totally cheated. where's the gritty realness?!

okay listen: tantric meditation isn't always just about wild sex.  while some tantric practices incorporate sexual energy, the core of tantric meditation is about harnessing your prana, your life energy, to achieve a heightened state of awareness and bliss.  think of it less as a sex manual and more as a sophisticated self-improvement program. the goal isn't necessarily orgasms (though those can be a byproduct), but rather cultivating a deep connection with yourself and the universe. it's about mastering your energy, not just releasing it.  this involves techniques like breathwork, visualization, and mindful awareness of bodily sensations.  it's about feeling fully alive in every moment, not just during peak experiences.

after the jazzlynn debacle, i kept turdy at arm's length — or, at least the length of my middle finger, the almighty fingy of gorrrd. our interactions became a fascinating anthropological study of male audacious bullshittery in its natural habitat. i would receive these epic romantic declarations that read like he'd plagiarized them from a 14-year-old's wattpad werewolf erotica. i'd respond with vague compliments like "that's sweet" or "you have such a way with words," which he interpreted as encouragement rather than the perfunctory acknowledgments they were. i should mention that a quick peruse of facebook on the part of jizzle proved he was happily married with 2 lovely lil kiddos. jizzle shat herself and peppered me with screenies. i never wanted more than friendship, & even that was stretching it. i'd ask about his day, & he'd somehow turn "i watched football" into some creep shit like "i was thinking about how...

inspiration is a fickle mistress, and i want her to be my bestie sooo fuckin bad! kinda like phyllis, who has lots of a-muse-ing qualities. sometimes she strikes like a lightning bolt, other times she's more like a sluggish sloth.  my muse seems to thrive on midnight potions (my holy trinity of caffeine, cannabis, sugar) and chaotic energy.  so, when the creative well runs dry, i embrace the leftover weirds.  i indulge in some freaky shit. maybe i’ll find myself rearranging a crystal grid at 4am, grazing on leftover soosh/pizza while listening to cruelty-free organic whale/narwhal rap duels with caffeinated beats.  😂 i might cover myself in glitter and dance under the moonlight, channeling my boobs’ inner disco balls, and my whole self’s inner disco stu on radioactive coke while drinking andy warhol’s gangrenous (but rarified and lovely) blood on the dick slide at studio 54. the point is to break the rut: either go wild-ass, or create a new routine. embrace randomne...