Entry 003
Here we are—late again.
Things are moving fast, maybe too fast for your old pal BAG!
The first issue of The Razor Hill Strips is almost ready to go live on my site. Cross your fingers, kiss your idols, whatever you do for luck, because I know there’ll be bumps ahead.
I’ve already hit a few.
Take this very entry for instance. I swore I’d have a Gutter Gospel out every Wednesday. Where I sit now, it’s Saturday. I Lost control of the wheel and the whole bloody thing swerved. But hey—better late than never.
At least I hit the deadline for the new issue of Freeze Dried Meat, my little off-the-cuff mini-zine that just dropped on Ko-Fi.
It’s pay-what-you-want, or nothing at all if you’re broke—just spread the word.
Print a few copies and scatter them like cursed leaflets. That’s how this thing lives.
Anyway—this road is messy. I’ve lost control more than once already, and I haven’t even really started. But that’s the point. You’ll watch me stumble, scrape, and grow here in the smoke and greasy glow of Razor Hill.
I won’t give up this time. This is what I want. It’s what you want too, isn’t it?
I’m throwing myself out there—searching for myself, and for The New Taste. I know you’re out there. We’ll find each other soon enough. I give you my word on that.
Until then—this has been BAG!, signing off.
From the gutters of Razor Hill, with love and menace— I’ll be seein’ you real soon 🪰💀💋