Blaze of Gory

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When I moved to Jerusalem about 11 years ago, I went out of my way to find the metal community (among other things like the feminist community, the riot grrrl community, and the everlastingly non-existant zine community).

I found small-scale metal shows and metal nights in bars like Uganda, Scream, and Yellow Submarine, and went to them often in an attempt to find the extreme metal underground community – the people who you could always count on to make an appearance at such events.

It wasn’t until I met my husband, seven years ago, that I discovered the elusive nucleus of the Jerusalem metal community. The bar we frequented on a regular basis was Blaze – a rock bar in a narrow alleyway off a sidestreet crossing Shamai, a street in downtown Jerusalem. I would have never found it if it weren’t for my husband. It was that remote.

Before I conceived my daughter, we became regulars at the bar, as part of the nucleus. Over the past seven years, we went to countless metal nights and metal shows, continuing the ritual that was Sunday Metal Night, delightfully headbanging to tunes ranging from the relatively clean tones of old school metal to the brutality of gore metal.

The metalheads who were a permanent fixture in said bar automatically became our mutual friends. They threw a surprise engagement party for us after we got engaged, and we set up a special extra big table for them at our wedding. We even invited them over to our place on Independence Day a couple of years ago, for a BBQ and of course, lots of face-melting metal tunes. We drove in groups to metal shows in Tel Aviv whenever a popular international metal band came to perform, displaying a powerful presence of the Jerusalem metalheads.

Our place of worship was Blaze. Our Congregation of Desecration.

And now, woe onto us metalheads, this bar is two weeks away from its closing day. Blaze Bar closes on October 1. That’s right. My goddamn birthday. The only decent metal bar in Jerusalem closing its doors is a wonderful birthday gift for a Jerusalem metal girl, is it not?

Last night, the final Sunday Metal Night took place. Despite having a hard time finding a babysitter on every metal night since my daughter was born, I was sure I’d have no problem for it this time because as part of the nucleus, parent or no-parent, attendance was mandatory for last night. At least it was for me. I didn’t want to let the final call for metal go to waste.

Alas, my mother-in-law was indisposed. Even after we managed to convince her to watch our daughter after the baby falls asleep, of course she didn’t fall asleep (she never does when she is in a place that is not her room). Plus, our dog had resumed her regular bouts of seizures, which just served to stress us out even more.

I was forced to remove my metal gear and tend to my maternal duties. I told my husband he should go without me and apologize to our friends for my being a flake. He did, and the rest of the evening went by uneventfully. Back in her own crib, in her own bedroom, my daughter promptly fell asleep. I watched a couple of episodes of Wentworth season 6, and crashed.

The end to a depressing fucking night.

Followed by another seizure c/o my dog at 3 a.m.

Fuck this shit. I’m going back to Stephen King. Still the best way for me to forget about shit that depresses me.

Peace, love and Insomnia

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Focus My Ass

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My head hurts, my throat feels all bloody and my nose is a faucet. I’m trying to focus through. My aunt decided that I should stand up in front of a bunch of people I don’t know and give a speech about my uncle who was killed when I was five. So yes, I’m trying to focus and trying to come up with what to write. And it’s even harder to do when I’m sick. And it’s even harder to do when the speech I have to write is in Hebrew. And it’s even harder to do when all I have to work with is five years worth of super fuzzy memories and super fuzzy newspaper clippings circa 1987. Focussing on the fuzz… right.

My aunt chose me to give that speech because she says I’m a good writer. But this is different. This so-called good writer needs to read her writing to a bigass audience made up of complete strangers. That is what freaks me out, because when the written word translates into spoken word, I might as well be mute. The only time I ever gave speeches was in school, in front of classmates, and it was for grades so I managed quite well and scored high. But now, I may very well trip over my words, stutter my way through whatever it is I plan to put down on paper, and do it all under the scorching sun of southern Israel.

The rally where I’m set to make a complete fool of myself is on September 27. Still trying to focus and I’m sick as fuck.

I’d rather be doing something creative like working on my daughter’s photo album. Picabook is where it’s at.

I’d rather be reading. Stephen King is totally where it’s at.

I’d rather fucking sleep. My bedroom is totally and completely and desperately where it’s at.

But alas. I’m at work. Sick. And trying to focus on something I’m hopelessly fuzzed-out about.

Help me.

Peace, love and holidays shmolidays.

IZM Zine Unveiled

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I promised you some photos of my IZM Zine so here they are!

Cover

Also, I posted the zine on my Etsy shop so you can buy it here.

Intro

In case you have an awesomely bitchin zine of your own and want to trade, do contact me! I love me some trades and zinesters kick ass.

July 5

About the IZM Zine:
32 pages
Size A6 (1/4 page)
Black and white
Text-heavy (handwritten and typewritten)
Little to no computer used in the making of the zine

 

July 3

Amazine indeed!

Page 22

Peace, love and zineroots revisited

Post-IZM Blues

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I’ve recently found that slowly but surely I’ve managed to return to myself and my regular programming – art, activism, writing, reading, exercise, music, social activities, the usual mischief.

July kicked ass. I’ve worked hard and managed my time accordingly and have thus made zines, wrote some shit, attended Slutwalk, attended Pride, organized art mornings, kept with my weekly Tai Chi routine, read and am still reading lots of King books, and tried to stay as active as possible even within the realms of my maternal duties, as limiting as some of them may be. Yes, there are 24 hours in a day. I’ve owned them and filled them up to the fucking rim.

However, after an exchange between me and my husband regarding boring financial issues, we’ve agreed that I should give up my free mornings so that I may be able to pick my daughter up from daycare at a more reasonable hour and not have to keep her there until 18:00 and be charged for babysitting services. It comes out to hundreds of Shekels every month, and that’s a lot. But what I will be sacrificing to avoid such an expense is a lot, too.

“I won’t be writing anymore,” I told my husband. ” I also won’t have time for Tai Chi, or zine-production, or post office errands, or cooking, or dishes, or laundry, or sleeping in, or anything else. I will be reduced to being just a part-time secretary and a full-time mother. Nothing more.”

But money talks.

And bullshit walks.

So along the bullshit goes and sacrifices have to be made. I may have one morning a week for a while at least. And I’ll cram a whole load of things into it. Maybe I can revamp my weekends into something manageable and at least keep my Tai Chi routine…

Pfff, yeah right! After working only mornings shifts, I will be so tired by the end of the week, I’ll just pass the fuck out. No exercise, no zines, no writing and I’ll be too tired to care.

I really hope I won’t be too upset. Ink still runs through my veins and it still needs to bleed out onto a blank page. Tai Chi is necessary for my myotonized muscles lest they cramp up again, and I cannot afford a sedentary lifestyle. Zines breed positivity and I can sure use it right now.

But money still talks. And lord knows that following a morning shift, my pillow also talks my ears off.

Maybe I should start drinking coffee. Fuck this shit.

Peace, love and 24 hours in a day, my ass.

Mizine: Accomplished!

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International Zine Month 2018 recap:

My goal for this month was to make a zine. That I did. And I couldn’t be more thrilled!

The zine is 32 pages long and features some of the elements I used to add in my pre-motherhood zines – text-heavy, handwritten and typewritten material, simple drawings and graphics, creepy backgrounds, and simple (and rather sloppy attempts at) collages.

Some of the missing elements are cartoons, low-grade poetry, and a clear and uniform theme, unless you count IZM as the running theme since all of the pieces were written in July. Also, the cover is in black and white whereas most of my other zines have a color cover. But I like it like that.

The only thing that NEVER changed is the feeling I get with zine-production. I detailed that feeling in my zine and also in many of my previous posts. Looking through my archives at any zine-related posts, you may find words such as elated, transcendent, inspired, amazing, amazing, amazing, incredible, fucking awesome, kickass, ownage, epic, boss, rad, rules everything, and LOVE. Lots and lots of LOVE!

This morning, as I put the finishing touches on it, I took a step back and looked at the mess on my dining room table – stripes and bits of paper scattered everywhere, a Sharpie, a pen, a typewriter, a glue-stick with the cap off to the side, a pair of scissors on top of everything, a pile of paper, a stack of completed zine pages and a stack of half-completed ones.

I threw my head back and laughed out loud.

“I fucking love this!!!” I said within my fit of giggles.

So yes. IZM rules everything and I fucking LOVE it!

But now that it’s August 1st, I have to get back to the business at hand, mainly reading an obscene amount of Stephen King and taking care of my daughter. And tomorrow is Jerusalem Pride, so I’m going there after work and hang out with the beautiful bunch of sweet and wonderful people draped in rainbow flags and Israel flags. And the ultra-orthodox haters can fuck off and lose their tuques in fucking Baghdad for all I care.

I hope you all had as wonderful IZM as I had. And if you did and you managed to produce a zine or a few zines, drop me a line because I’d love to trade.

Pictures of zine will come later. Stay tuned!

Peace, love and aching fingers.

Zinesters Shall Zine

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Zine-production, oh how I missed thee!!!!!!

The tap-tapping sounds of the typewriter, the smell of the glue, the stripes of cut paper falling all around, the sticky fingers, the zine coming together with total punk rock DIY perfection… Motherfucking A! What a feeling!

Today was Writing Thursday, but instead of sitting down to continue my random musings on my husband’s laptop, I decided to take advantage of my free morning to start my IZM 2018 zine layout.

There were a few things standing in my way and I tried to get them out of there as fast as I could.

  1. Dinner: I’m planning Ravioli for tonight and as such, I need to make the sauce for it. I use fresh mushrooms that need to be peeled and chopped. And since that shit takes me forever, I couldn’t leave it for tonight because then we would sit to eat super late, by which time both my husband and I are starving and my daughter is super hangry and super tired. So taking care of the fucking mushrooms struck a whole fucking half hour from my morning.
  2. Lunch: I had nothing already made so I needed to make me a sandwich for this afternoon. Strike another 30 minutes.
  3. Dishes: Cooking breeds a mountain of dishes. And if I were to leave these for tonight, the mountain would only get higher. Stike another 15 minutes.
  4. Sleep: Since I already knew this list of things would need to be done before I can get on with my writing Thursday, I also knew I’d have to wake up early to get it done. But alas, the call of the pillow was far too powerful and I slept in until the ungodly hour of 8:20 when I had to see my daughter off to gan and have breakfast.

After doing all this shit and setting up my workspace, I only sat down by my typewriter at 10:20. I pulled my beautiful machine, my pretty shiny red Rosie, aka Rose Madder, out of her box, slipped in an A6 size paper, set the margin and started making a whole bunch of noise.

As I was working, I was delirious with joy, laughing occasionally, flashing back to a time in my life where I had all the time in the world to make a whole bunch of paper art magic. And here I was now, back with my typewriter, my scissors, my glue stick, my papers, my backgrounds, all neatly set up.

37791079_10155366425652471_3273848025490915328_o

I was still madly typing away, with the tips of my fingers slowly developing bruises, when the clock struck 11.

With angry Amon Amarth playing in the background and the DIY rush flowing through my veins, I stood up fast, nearly toppling my chair, pointed at the clock and screamed:

“FUCK YOU, CLOCK!! FUCK YOU!”

I had no more than 30 minutes left to revel in zine production before I had to start getting ready to go to work.

Of course, I lost track of time and of course, I missed my bus. But nothing could destroy my mood this morning. I can’t wait for my next free morning (which I’m planning for Sunday) for my fingers to get bruised up some more!

Peace, love and zinester at heart!

Face-Melting Zine

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Metal flyer8

Other than filling pages and pages with endless piles of words, laying out a zine used to be one of my favorite pastimes before I became a mother. This is the most creative part of zine-production, requires little to no concentration, and can be done with loud-ass music playing.

I also used to travel a lot back then (it’s actually one of the things that I’m glad I’m not doing as much anymore because, I mean, airports. Am I right?). And whatever country I went to, I always made sure to visit places to satisfy my inner freak – metal fests, metal concerts, alternative clothing stores, metal bars, piercings/tattoos shops… These places always had the neatest flyers lying around. I collected a whole bunch and used them as backgrounds for any zine I made.

International Zine Month 2018 zine is soon to be laid out and I am in dire need of said flyers. But now that I am not traveling, and such freak locations and events are hard to find, I need to resort to the wonderful world wide web and search “metal flyers” or “punk rock flyers” to be used as backgrounds for my current zine.

I came across the most twisted and vile creations ever.

AND I FUCKING LOVE IT!

The logos and names of the bands written in font that nobody can read surrounded by skulls and skeletons, piles of decapitated corpses, zombies buried up to their hips in rivers of rotting flesh, blood gushing everywhere, not to mention the Goat of Mendes making its obligatory cameo appearance – this is the stuff that my perfect zine backgrounds are made of.

One of them also had “Death Metal till Death” written on it and I pulled my evil laugh with glee.

When I just started listening to metal, this was one of the aspects of the music that appealed to me and that really pulled me in – the gore, the insane amounts of grotesque imagery infesting the lyrics and the artwork of any respective metal band. Why did it appeal to me? Fuck if I know, and damned if I care.

We’re metalheads. We love our music loud and violent. And Satan help you if it’s not swarming with maggots.

I believe zines deserve to be just as wholesomely bloody.

Peace, love and visions of gore and death