All that Glitters Is Gore


My head is on the verge of explosion. And if it does explode, what will come bursting out will not be blood and brains and gore, but rather glitters and confetti and sprinkles. Because I am so goddamn fucking happy right now. And while I was thinking I might just be PMS’ing (because the timing is right) I have some pretty good reasons to be going mad with joy.

Split Zine Coming Together

My friend from the Land of the Witch (a.k.a. Salem, MA) just sent me her part of the split zine we are writing together. My boyfriend is at his office and should be scanning my part of it any minute now. And when I get home today, I will be working my ass off (quite literally because my ass tends to go numb when I sit at the computer for too long) to put it together and hopefully have it printed by some time next week. I can’t wait to finally hold it in my hands and read it and absolutely enjoy every tiny bit of it!


Same friend sent me a package saturated with zines and a sweet letter. So once I figure out how to manage my time, or once I feel like my ass is really screaming bloody murder, whichever one comes first, I’ll write back a nice long letter, soaking with exclamation marks and happy faces.

Zine Plans

I think I’ll write the metaphor issue of the PMS zine sometime between my wedding day and my honeymoon. Said events are separated by a little over two months so that should give me plenty of time. Waiting to continue working on this issue only serves to build up my excitement for it even more. So add more sparkles to the glittery fire!

Zine Fest Plans

Yes, you read that right. Zine FEST plans. Israel is seriously lacking in those. And so, since most zine fests take place abroad, and while my boyfriend and I are planning to honeymoon in Los Angeles, Philadelphia and Montreal, should there be zine fests in those cities around that time, then I should be there too! And my Salem friend said there’s a good chance of that happening, and if it does, we’ll table together. And if that’s not reason enough to stretch my smile all the way to the back of my head, I don’t know what is! I’m already thinking about making some extra copies of my zines and what to wear on that day, if that day does in fact come.

Video Camera Fun

I recently bought a little digital video camera. And I also got this free video editing program online. Maybe if I figure it all out, I could even make a short film about something. Making short films is the only kind of art I’ve never really experimented with. I’m very excited to try it out, and if it works out, I’ll be singing the Ren & Stimpy Happy Joy song and bounce around to the beat.

It must be noted that, as I wrote some time ago, we plan and God laughs. So I’ll try real hard to keep my glitters contained until all the pieces fall together and I’m actually in the process of experiencing all these extreme-excitement-inducing events. And I hope that if the Goddess is laughing right now, then it’s because She is happy for me and is also planning on making all this stuff happen, and the sparkly confetti can go bursting right out.

Peace, love and twinkle twinkle black star (metal is always exciting)

Zines = DIY Gold


Today I want to write about zines. I mean, I write a lot about zines and my last post was also zine-related, but I still want to write about zines. It’s either writing a zine or writing about zines. And since I am just finishing up my part of a split-zine, writing ABOUT zines it is.

I first got into zines back in 2007. Come to think of it, I don’t exactly remember how or why. All I remember is that I was heavily into the riot grrrl scene (and still am). I was browsing some riot grrrl literature on eBay and ordered the book A Girl’s Guide to Taking Over the World. At that time, I’ve been in Israel for a year, working random translating jobs that had nothing to do with the field I really wanted to work in – Journalism. I’ve submitted a few articles here and there to the Jerusalem Post, and saw my work butchered by the editors, and I still didn’t make a rusty Agora for it. It was only after I read A Girl’s Guide that it occurred to me.

“Hey! I can make my own zine, publish my own work the way I wrote it, and fuck mainstream media!” It also occurred to me that I might not get paid for it either, but who cares? Using my journalistic skills and self-publishing was the end in itself.

People have sometimes asked me what does it take to make a zine. What tools do you need? What skills must you have? What stories, topics or themes should you explore?

I always gave the same answer: DIY. Do it yourself. Get your own tools, learn your own skills, tell your own stories. There are no rules, there are no limits. Best of all, there is no censorship. This is free speech and freedom of the press the way it was intended.

The only mandatory thing in zine culture is inspiration. I think that with inspiration, everything comes right along – patience, persistence, and an unyielding love for the craft. The zines you create with inspiration are the best zines you will ever make.

Of course, there are certain guidelines for zinesters if they want their readers to enjoy the full experience of zine-reading. The layout should be easy on the eyes, the script should be legible, the binding should be stable… I’ve also read suggestions from other zinesters who said that the pages must be numbered, you should have a table of contents, and somewhere in your zine there should be your name and contact information. But I don’t think these things are entirely necessary. Maybe there are some zinesters out there who do not wish to be contacted. I can sometimes relate to that. Zinesters are artists, and many of the ones I know (including myself) are introverts and loners. We find comfort in solitude. We find our inspiration and do our best work when we are left alone in silence, preferably in a sound-proof shelter room with a blasted heater.

Despite that, I still put my contact information on the back of my zines because I like to hear from others in the zine-scene. But that’s my own choice and may not apply to everyone.

After the split-zine I am currently finishing up is all printed, stapled and ready for distribution, I will write another issue which I’ve already started (probably after my wedding on March 11). It will be a zine about the wonderful and magical world of metaphors. Y’all should be on the lookout for it.

Also, I am jonesing for International Zine Month. I’m pretty sure my honeymoon will be in June, so I hope to be back home a bit before July so that I can prepare for that month and also do the 24-Hour Zine Thing again. So psyched for it!!

Keep up with any zine-related progress on my PMS zine blog (now featuring a sneak-peek into the upcoming split-zine) and don’t forget to Facebook Like it!

Peace, love and I do like it PMS, and I got it PMS.

Doctor Art


For the past few days, my emotional state has taken a beating for a slew of different reasons I don’t wish to detail. Each one of them pushed me further and further into a state of utter depression. I haven’t been showing it much to anyone mainly because I’ve managed to deal with it by escaping into mind-numbing entertainment – heavyass metal tunes, Stephen King literature, countless episodes of Shameless… Sometimes distracting myself by reading an ungodly amount of chapters of an intense novel that only Stephen King can manage is the best treatment (read: treatment, not cure) for depression, mood swings and PMS.

I’ve also had problems falling asleep, and if I do fall asleep, I have nightmares that I can’t remember, but the feelings these dreams cause last pretty much from the moment I wake up in the morning and all through the day. So fuck you very much, nightmares, for making me feel even worse.

HOWEVER! Last night I managed to forget all about my shitty state of mind while I was working on a photo presentation for the wedding. And today, while I found some free time at the office and worked on a collage I’ve been planning for a new issue of my zine, I suddenly felt happy. My Core of Happiness resurfaced, and my yin-yang balance was reclaimed.

It seems to me that production (art, zines, computer art) is the one activity that is not distracting or mind-numbing and does not repress whatever shit I’m feeling, but actually manages to cure it. I think back on all the reasons I felt depressed and suddenly, they don’t bother me so much anymore.

Sometimes speaking to my inner child helps if the depression comes on for no apparent reason. But I also know that sometimes my inner child doesn’t want to speak and prefers to express herself with the silent form of expression – art. Her mother tongue is the written word, poetry, photography, graphic design, paper art, drawing, and zine-making. This is why when I engage in any form of art, I feel hypnotized. I feel in the Zone. It’s because I’m not really the one who makes that art, but the child within.

So I think that this surge of the Core that all but saved me this week happened because my inner child got her little art pill and spilled it all. She will get some more of it tonight when I will be working on my zine.

Thank you, art. I don’t know if I’ll be alive today if it wasn’t for you.

Peace, love and serenity.

No Presents for New Year


So New Year’s is coming up, and just like any other Christian New Year I will be doing nothing. New Year’s for me is as unimportant as the Jewish New Year is to Christians. Thinking back on all the other New Years I’ve had, they were either uneventful or absolutely horrible. I’m pretty sure I wrote about this once, though I can’t remember where, so here it is again.

I don’t remember any New Year parties before Y2K, so nothing happened then.

In 2000, New Year’s eve fell on a Friday. So it was the Sabbath. I did nothing more than watching the NY ball drop on TV, expecting my computer to go up in flames and waiting for nukes to fly. Nothing happened of course and life went on as usual.

In 2001, I slept. In 2002, I slept some more. In 2003, I was up north with my boyfriend of the time, getting drunk and freezing my ass off in a cabin that had no heating. The following day I spent with my head in the toilet. In 2004, some more sleeping took place. In 2005, I wrote this post. The following years, I was in Israel (and still am) where the “Sylvester” is virtually non-existent. It’s just another day where you go to work and, while looking over your schedule for the day or writing another invoice, you realize “Oh yeah, it’s January 1st,” in a rather nonchalant tone. Same thing happens on Christmas.

There were some New Year’ses that sucked ass. Like in January 1, 2010. It was the 30-day memorial of my cousin who passed away from brain cancer. So the first thing I did that year was looking at the gravestone of an 18-year-old kid, while my grandmother was screaming bloody murder.

In 2010 to 2012, schlafen marathons galore, and maybe even some Stephen King books.

In 2013 I had a blast – namely my elbow was blasted to hell and beyond. So I spent my New Year’s at the hospital. How awesome is that?

In 2014, I was still struggling to find a date for my second surgery and Hadassah Hospital kept postponing it. And then I slept.

This year, there’s a party at Blaze, but I don’t care. I rather stay at home and get some writing done. Now that I have some time cleared, I may actually make something of myself, and celebrate New Year 2015 in the company of my typewriter, stationaries, pens and paper. Who knows, maybe I can even start a new issue of PMS!

Peace, love and January is in winter anyway so it sucks no matter what.



With no connection whatsoever to the title of this blog, I miss writing and zine production. Goddess how I miss it. The wedding arrangements and planning and meetings and everything is taking up waaaay too much of my time. I can’t wait for it to be all closed and done, and enjoy my wedding and go on with the rest of my life.

With a little closer connection to the title, I also miss Sunday Metal Nights. A few weeks ago, I missed it because we had a meeting at the wedding hall. Then after that, I missed it again because I had a surgery on that day. And the following week (which was last week) when we finally made it to the bar, some guy took over the computer, raided the motherfucker with like 50 songs, all of which were lameass nu metal tunes with choruses of clean vocals, which my boyfriend adequately describes as boy-band vocals. I think it was the first metal night I’ve been to where Amon Amarth, Carcass and Death didn’t make even one lousy appearance.

Today, I don’t even know if we’ll make it to the metal night because we have a Hannuka dinner at my boyfriend’s grandmother’s house. There will be couscous and Shfinj (a Moroccan delicacy, not to be missed, EVER!).

So for three consecutive weeks, I feel a serious withdrawal from good wholesome Sunday Metal Nights. And if tonight’s dinner ends late, this will bring the total number of weeks to four. A whole fucking month.

My boyfriend says that Sunday Metal Nights are a necessity that holds him sane for the entire week. And I couldn’t agree more. So a whole month without it is something I can barely comprehend.

All that besides the fact that I miss writing and making zines. And wedding stuff taking too long and yes, I confess, I am still reading an ungodly amount of Stephen King, and I have nobody to blame but myself for that. But I vow that once all of this is done and once Detective Hodges catches the Mercedes Killer, I will stock up on a fresh load of paper cuts and spilled smudged ink stains on my fingers.

Peace, love and happy Hannuka!

Engage the Metalhead Within


20141116_225604Well, I had plans for a new tattoo, and I had plans for a new zine, and I had plans to not have another surgery at least until this year is over. But plans are made to be changed. So here it is.

I am set to have another surgery on November 30. It will be my fourth one this year but it will be relatively minor… I hope. It has nothing to do with my elbow injury or my cataract but I won’t detail this procedure beyond that, considering its sensitive nature.

Onto more happy plans, I plan on getting married! My boyfriend and I got engaged last week. We went and picked out a ring together and we’re starting to look at wedding halls this evening. I hope to set a date for early March, but my boyfriend is leaning towards the end of June, so we’re still undecided on that.

Last night, we went to our weekly ritual at Blaze Bar – Sunday Metal Night. A night of good company, drinks, face-melting metal tunes and intensive neck breaking. What we didn’t expect was the surprise the Jerusalemite metalheads had in store for us. They ordered cake, balloons and champagne to celebrate our engagement, and their plans on that night was no doubt to get us completely wasted. They managed to do that with me, but seeing as I went a little overboard a few weeks ago and spent the rest of the night being tortured by stomach acid wreaking havoc on my throat and nasal passages, I took it easy this time around and stopped when I felt I had enough – two glasses of champagne, one very very light cocktail and two very very light chasers.

As for my boyfriend (I hate the term fiance), he got the old stomach utterly upset. Mr. Stomach then decided to pull a Jim Breuer and kicked all the ingested guests right the fuck out. So said plastered boyfriend spent his night as I did a few weeks ago, then he had to be carried out of the bar and back home by cab who had to be paid twice the amount of cash we usually pay, because the driver was reluctant to take in a guy who might very well vomit up and down the car.

So the night ended in disaster (I was pretty upset too seeing my boyfriend in that condition) but the night itself was fucking awesome! They played the best metal tunes, I got my headbang going at full throttle the moment all the “congrats” had passed around, we had about two or three dozen l’Chaim’s throughout the night, chasers and hugs on the house… it was quite possibly one of the best metal nights Jerusalem has to offer.

After the wedding, we plan to go to North America for a couple of weeks. And later on we also plan on having children, but that’s still a bit far off. And if the metalheads throw us a baby shower, the bar ought to be smoke free and alcohol free… not much of a party, eh?

Zines and tattoos will eventually be done, but with all the wedding arrangements, they’ll be on hold for now.

Peace, love and SLAYERRR! \m/


Chewing Paper


I’ve been overloading on InDesign use for certain purpose I’d rather not detail at the moment. But I will say that although it’s exciting and I love every minute of it, especially when whatever I try to do actually works out and I cheer “I rule!”, it’s making me a little umm… I don’t know, restless, I guess?

I miss using free hand. So once I finish that InDesign project that I’m simply drowning in (yesterday I put in a straight 6 hours on it!), I need to make a zine. I planned to write one when I get a Dark Tower tattoo. Thing is that the plans on said tat are put on hold for now for various health reasons, so a zine on a new tat will also have to wait. This doesn’t mean that I won’t make a zine anyway on another topic. I already have a bunch of material for another issue so once I’m done with this computerized shit, I’ll get my hands dirty and stock up on paper cuts.

Speaking of zines, I recently joined a Facebook page called Funzins in Hebrew. Then I dreamed that some chick posted on it that there will be a zine fair in Jerusalem and if anyone wants to join, they should contact her, and I was all over the moon about it. And then I woke up and realized the dream was just a fucking tease. (As a side note, I’ve been having too many nightmares lately, so that dream, tease or not, was a really pleasant one for a change)

That’s all I’ve been wanting to vent about for now.

Peace, love and suffocating on zines is how I wish to die.