A New Alphabet
We’ve shouted. We’ve wept. We’ve raged.
Today, just this.
A quieter offering.
A different kind of language.
Living our queer, twisted truth. Stories, art, love, and cantankerous cats.
A New Alphabet
We’ve shouted. We’ve wept. We’ve raged.
Today, just this.
A quieter offering.
A different kind of language.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
A velvet elegy from Mowgli the Melancholy to his younger, fluffier self. On betrayal, biscuits, and the devastating revelation that the red dot is a lie.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
A second-person reflection honouring the clarity and courage of Aaron Bushnell—an active-duty U.S. Airman who set himself on fire in protest of the genocide in Gaza. This piece is not comfort. It is memory.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Halfway around the world, the journalists are saying goodbye — not with press releases, but with poetry, final voice notes, and aching goodbyes to a world that barely listened. This piece holds the names and words of those still documenting genocide with nothing but a camera and a heartbeat. It is not a tribute. It is a witness.
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Sick of fragile fascists and orange outrage? SPLAT-A-TACO™ is the deeply satisfying presidential effigy experience you didn’t know you needed. Complete with biodegradable tomato splats, legal loophole tissue, and a taco that’s structurally unsound (just like the man himself). Finally, a product that lets you vent your rage without getting banned from Etsy.
This week brought cobbled streets, cursed arcades, and a ceramic cat at the till. But beneath the joy—rage. We write about Gaza, grief, and why we’re building an unapologetically human, justice-fuelled flash anthology called Salt in the Wound. Because silence is complicity. And we are not quiet people.