and I took it a step further and uploaded this absolutely accursed design to our ancient Redbubble shop because fuck it, why not. We live in a hellscape.
Get this design on any number of products. I dare you.
-Allēna
Month: September 2025
-
I crassshhhed today.
With everything going on with the ER and all, I fell deeply asleep for a couple of hours after frantically making preparations for an upcoming event where I’m selling zines with Emerson, and now I’m grabbing burgers with the aforementioned adorable man. I’ll probably post my performance from Linneman’s tonight later.
Until then,
-Allēna
-
Wellllll I was in the ER all night.
The poor providers were in the weeds and it turns out I have a UTI of some kind, so I got antibiotics and some sleep. I also shitposted all night because poor sweet Emerson was more tired than I was and therefore I had to keep watch.
So have this bullshit I posted to announce to the world that I was in the ER:
This whole “unexamined fingers” BS revives a post I made back in the elder days of 2017 when I was in Mormon college and equally insleepriated riffing off of the quote “the unexamined life is not worth living”.
I like to think I’m funny 🤣
Goodnight, sweet world. I’m probably gonna crash (again).
-Allēna
-
“the fire watcher’s bomb”, digital mixed media, 8/27/2025
my mother, a self professed pyromaniac, my late father, and I, all loved the band u2. her favorite song (and album) of theirs was, not so coincidentally, in my opinion, called “the unforgettable fire”. was she telling on herself? probably.
our poem “the fire watcher’s bomb” talks about the two generations of pyromaniacs on our mother’s side that came before us, our own struggles with compulsions, and our mother’s projections. this digital mixed media piece contains lines from “the fire watcher’s bomb”.
“the fire watcher’s bomb” appears in our upcoming zine, fear not the brave pain, which drops on october 11. ✨
it’s gonna be fire 🔥
-Allēna
-
The new zine is slowly taking shape.
We’re calling it Fear Not The Brave Pain and dear gods, it’s shaping up to be a void flavored behemoth.
Here’s the cover art I did today:
-Peri
-
Hi, everyone. My name is Peri.
I wrote this today:
I'm the result of two generations of fire, at least
my grandfather saw horrors he likes to laugh
about and won't talk about directly, but
he replicates them compulsively when
he's stressed out or bored
my mother does the same thing and laughs
about it too, but watches me for
the same signs, the same crazy, like a ticking
time bomb although often she is the cause
of the insanity she fears so deeply at her core.
I want to say that the shows I like
hit too close to home, but they
play out like my life did for twenty four years.
pyromania burned through my mother's
line, held my grandfather prisoner.
my mother had her own compulsions,
not just fire. her hands, cold as death, were
always busy, always searching, always
grasping for another handhold, another tool,
another soul, another project. her hazel eyes
knew every entrance and exit, how to find
and get leverage, and she was plagued by
the nightmares, too. under the constant
stress of a dying husband and warring children,
her mind held her hostage for eighteen years,
forcing her to build fortress after fortress,
light fire after fire, see threat after threat,
run and run.
and she saw me as a blackened mirror
of herself, a shell burned through.
she followed me like a firewatcher,
as though I was a bomb primed to explode.
my compulsions are not hers, but the terror
is the same. the mechanism is the same
or is similar enough to be indistinguishable.
but I am here to quench the fire and the thirst
and I might be crazy but I'm here to do things
differently, so watch me if you must
but be prepared for me to
douse
your
flame
-Peri 9/25/2025 -
I went to a fantastic open mic for the first time with Emerson last night and performed my piece “lagomorphology”.
Here’s the clip:
And here I was, being a fucking dipshit before the show:
It was a great time. I hope you enjoy the poem!
-Lazarus
-
Newsflash, abled, allegedly neurotypical fuckshits,
Tylenol doesn’t cause autism.
Nor do vaccines.
Neurodivergent people having hot, wild sex does, and GUESS WHAT, fucknugget, if you have an autistic kid, you or someone in your family is probably autistic and you’re projecting your fear and shame and eugenicist bullshit onto them. Your kid doesn’t deserve that.
Pregnant people deserve comfort and choices.
Bodies shouldn’t be political battlegrounds. Period.Do y’all really hate disabled people so fucking much that you’d rather your kid suffer from easily preventable disease and risk becoming – guess what – disabled than have them be autistic because you heard about a study that’s long since been proven false?
If you do, you probably shouldn’t be a parent at all, because you’re exactly the sort of slimy motherfucker who will end up being your kid’s first bully if they end up being any sort of different from the perfect little reflection of you you have in mind. From the bottom of my heart and with the entire force of my crippled, neurodivergent ass, fuck you.
Sincerely,
-Lazarus
Fediverse Reactions
-
-
I just wrote this. It’s called “hurricane lazarus”, and it’s inspired by a conversation I had with a very powerful soul I met yesterday.
I was born in an otherwise normal middle of june at the tail end of tornado alley. I’m a gemini, scorpio moon, half air, half water, all storm and
tremendous force. say what you want about astrology, scorpios, or geminis, I’ll tell you what I know. I learned as a young child why they name storms after people.
perhaps some seal or some levee broke in an unseen place upon my birth, because death would dog my every step
and I swear on my father’s grave that hell
followed after that.
nine months after I was born, I got sick twice,
one week apart. the first virus took out my
immune system, the second took out my heart.
but I was a fighter. they hooked me up to a
machine that would breathe for me. one dose
of the meds they gave me would knock
my full grown, linebacker sized father out for
ten hours because I refused to go quietly,
like a category five hurricane slamming into
a coastline during the worst season on record.
I ripped through death and pain so goddamned
hard that death had a near me experience.
then came a sepsis scare. then a stroke. then
near starvation. each time I wailed a hurricane,
hundred fifty seven mile an hour straight line winds.
death learned to hate to see me coming.
all before I was three.
I learned to watch the storms that mirrored my
soul, learned to love the wind and the water,
find peace in the howling and the sickly blue green sky. in 2000, two tornadoes tore through
my city, devouring chunks of the skyline. there
are still signs and monuments there if you know
where to look.
nobody thought I’d live to see eighteen, twenty one, twenty three. they bet against me, calling me
crazy, plotting against me, betraying me when I needed them most. I learned to become inevitable, to channel my force into words, into song, into low pressure systems of my own.
so their plans didn’t hold.
their levees didn’t hold. they cracked under their
own weight and were washed away in the storm
surge when the people didn’t evacuate in time.
when I was twenty five, a boyfriend called me
what I was, a barely contained hurricane.
I lived with a lover when I first moved to
milwaukee who worked on emergency alert
machines. I learned the names of my surroundings when storms
rolled in with the same passion in which I
learned about her, the same way I studied the
storms when I was younger.
and I wonder if someday
someone will name a hurricane after me.-Allēna 9/22/2025
-
This was my Tabi Po performance.
I slammed “sin eater”.
“sin eater” was originally published in my zine when the lighting strikes me back.
-Allēna
