You woke in the alley. The last thing you remember is falling down the slippery fire escape as a phonograph played John Philip Sousa marches. The asphalt is cold and wet, but luckily there is a magazine within reach. You grab the periodical and wipe your face. UNAVOIDABLE DISASTER screams the cover. The alley shrinks as you fall into the zine. Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? It doesn’t matter, because it is unavoidable.You created this thing in your sleep and now you wear it on your face. It triggers your allergies but the body’s immune response tastes sweet as candy. Every time you sneeze little bits pop off and fall to the ground, but the empty spaces are instantly populated with limited time offers to effortlessly fix every past mistake that holds you in regret. But you never, ever act on them soon enough.
My goodness, what a glorious and disgusting time to be alive. It’s almost no wonder that so many have taken to a distorted reality to avoid the Unavoidable Disaster that is existence.
Ever just decide one morning at 4 am that you’re gonna drop acid and finally learn the trumpet? The neighbor starts screaming out their window at you asking what in the hell you think you’re doing and you scream back “finally living. Marching to the beat of my own fuckin drum you backwater twat!” Well this is Unavoidable Disaster and it’s a little bit like that. A whole seven or eight of us with little social interaction just decide to try and make the world a little brighter by dumping shitty memes, creating underappreciated art, sneezing blood and mucus on a napkin and writing the date above it, writing love letters to the hot bunny from that space cartoon in the early nineties that awakened you sexually… it’s a chance to collage all the uniqueness we got and vomit it on your overpriced John Mayer t-shirt.
Sometimes I eat banana cream pie with a spoon.
We like to live in the present, not some vague future that will never come, and oh, by the way, we need next month’s cover, soundtrack, and hella content. Deadline’s the 25th.
What Da Fuck Is This?
You woke in the alley. The last thing you remember is falling down the slippery fire escape as a phonograph played John Philip Sousa marches. The asphalt is cold and wet, but luckily there is a magazine within reach. You grab the periodical and wipe your face. UNAVOIDABLE DISASTER screams the cover. The alley shrinks as you fall into the zine. Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? It doesn’t matter, because it is unavoidable.You created this thing in your sleep and now you wear it on your face. It triggers your allergies but the body’s immune response tastes sweet as candy. Every time you sneeze little bits pop off and fall to the ground, but the empty spaces are instantly populated with limited time offers to effortlessly fix every past mistake that holds you in regret. But you never, ever act on them soon enough.
My goodness, what a glorious and disgusting time to be alive. It’s almost no wonder that so many have taken to a distorted reality to avoid the Unavoidable Disaster that is existence.
Ever just decide one morning at 4 am that you’re gonna drop acid and finally learn the trumpet? The neighbor starts screaming out their window at you asking what in the hell you think you’re doing and you scream back “finally living. Marching to the beat of my own fuckin drum you backwater twat!” Well this is Unavoidable Disaster and it’s a little bit like that. A whole seven or eight of us with little social interaction just decide to try and make the world a little brighter by dumping shitty memes, creating underappreciated art, sneezing blood and mucus on a napkin and writing the date above it, writing love letters to the hot bunny from that space cartoon in the early nineties that awakened you sexually… it’s a chance to collage all the uniqueness we got and vomit it on your overpriced John Mayer t-shirt.
Sometimes I eat banana cream pie with a spoon.
We like to live in the present, not some vague future that will never come, and oh, by the way, we need next month’s cover, soundtrack, and hella content. Deadline’s the 25th.