Humdrum Places - BlogFlock

Week 03—2026 - The Independent Variable

2026-01-19T04:31:58.000Z

🫀 A Pregnant Woman at Risk of Heart Failure Couldn’t Get Urgent Treatment. She Died Waiting for an Abortion. - The Independent Variable

2026-01-19T02:31:19.000Z

She wouldn’t. In a region that had legislated its commitment to life, she would spend her final days struggling to find anyone to save hers.

I admit, I’m a bit heated right now, and there are obviously a lot of parties at fault in the way this all went down, but if you voted for Donald Trump, you voted for a system that allowed/caused Ciji Graham and women like her to die.

Deaths that would be preventable in any country without barbaric laws that control women’s bodies. It feels like these people would rather let both the woman and fetus die than save the life of the woman. It’s fucked up.

Now... - The Independent Variable

2026-01-18T04:46:19.000Z

...I just gotta get Kottke to link to Foofaraw somehow... So if you're the magical person who got this site in front of Jason last week, this is directed at you. Go tell him about Foofaraw, a zine of surreal storytelling and worldly observations, which publishes some of the best short stories, novellas, wacky columns, webcomics, and soon, a giant anthology!

It's inspired by the likes of Clarkesworld, Uncanny, and McSweeney's, but also the New Yorker, with our regular columnists, weekly media guide, and more.

We could use a couple more paid subscribers over there as we raise the rates we pay to writers starting July 1st.

January 2026 - The Independent Variable

2026-01-18T04:31:55.000Z

Did you know we produce a little single-page zine every month about the prior month's news? And you can get it in your mailbox on some nice paper too! What's better than getting something in the mail?

Upgrade

We are a bit late this month for a few reasons.

First, I tried to enjoy the holidays and basically took two full weeks off to kick back and relax with my wife and two pups. That part was absolutely wonderful.

Then January started and shit hit the fan immediately here in the US. It got me thinking about how I could potentially continue to make this little “paper” while also cutting back on the news that seems to be killing my mental health and draining me from the inside out.

As you’ll see below, I haven’t quite figured that out yet. And honestly, I’m not sure I should. I have serious questions for anyone who isn’t full of dread and anxiety, and constantly on edge right now—and ignoring it won’t solve anything.

So here we are… looking back at all the wonderful things that happened waaaay back in December 2025 with a completely revamped and redesigned LLoN for the new year. There are probably a few details here and there that might need to be updated and improved, but welcome to 2026.

😵‍💫 Yeah, same. - The Independent Variable

2026-01-18T04:27:45.000Z

Kottke

Umm… so this happened… the godfather of linkblogging somehow came across this silly little site and linked to it… bringing over 4,000+ visitors…

I don’t ever go into the Ghost dashboard, so I had no idea until just now as I was getting ready to send out the first Little Letter of Nonsense this year (late as usual…)

🎉 Weekend edition vol.087 - foofaraw

2026-01-17T17:00:21.000Z

It's been a while since we've been in your inbox, but that doesn't mean things have slowed down.

Our next novelette in print comes out on Feb 1, everywhere books are sold, but you can buy it directly from us right now—if you're so inclined.

Faceless by Ellie Montemayor

A short novelette about pop stardom, social media influencers, and the lengths people will go for fame or to walk in someone else’s shoes.

Foofaraw Press

We also launched a brand new litmag and site on January 1st, which has published 17 pieces already, with more coming—every single day!

Quotidian Bagatelle

microstories and more—every single day

Quotidian BagatelleQB

Since there's plenty to read linked below, I'll leave you to it and see you back here on Monday for the return of The Media Guide.

But first, a quick detour about truth...

Here are some stories you might've missed from the end of 2025:

🪲 Transformation

by E. Florian Gludovacz

foofarawfoofaraw

🍝 Blessed be the bolognese

by Christy Hartman

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And the new year started just as great, with three wonderful stories so far:

🎳 Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch

🗿 Joan’s Stone on Loan

by Lyss Buchthal

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Plus, we published a really great speculative poem from Andrew Maust:

🦠 Post-Apocalyptic Procyonid Plague

by Andrew Maust

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Don't forget to read all the wonderful author interviews we've done as well!

🎙️ E. Florian Gludovacz

An interview with the author of Transformation

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🎙️ Christy Hartman

An interview with the author of Blessed be the bolognese

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🎙️ Ben Daggers

An interview with the author of Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch

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🎙️ E.J. LeRoy

An interview with the author of Moon to Moon FM

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🎙️ Lyss Buchthal

An interview with the author of Joan’s Stone on Loan

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➡️

Next week:
An interview with an automobile and an alien amidst a torrential downpour

The Bodies by D.H. Parish

a 46-page print novella

foofarawfoofaraw

👹 GWAR cover "Pink Pony Club" by Chappell Roan - The Independent Variable

2026-01-16T19:11:14.000Z

YouTube

I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a break from all of the news and this feels like the perfect antidote to give my mental sanity a little rest.

🎙️ Lyss Buchthal - foofaraw

2026-01-16T17:00:24.000Z

Read Lyss' story, Joan’s Stone on Loan, on Foofaraw now!

Let’s start with one of life’s big questions… Do you believe in love at first sight?

I think that love is something you build rather than find, so I’m not quite sure it’s “love” at first sight, but I do believe in that lil je nais sais quois of “oh yeah this is a person I’d wanna build love with.” Some people might just call that attraction, and maybe I’m just outing myself as being super demi, but I feel it quite rarely, so to me, that’s the equivalent of love at first sight!

Have you ever done anything that might be considered “crazy” to meet someone or get their number?

I once bribed a summer camp director with gummy worms to give me the same night off as my crush so I could ask them on a date, and then when we were returning to camp and our busy schedules, faked car trouble to strand us on the beach below camp for an extra hour of moonlit solitude. I suppose my inner-Steven is showing on that one, huh? Totally worked though.

If someone crashed into you to get your number, how do you think you’d react?

Honestly, depends on if they’re willing to fully cover the repairs or not! If so, shows me they’ve got the gift of foresight and are also financially stable, two big yeses in my book.

If you had to have a statue of an “inoffensive public figure” that you’d have to see every time you walk out your front door, who would you pick?

Keanu Reaves! He deserves a statue or ten.

Do you think Owen and Steven have a long, healthy relationship after this “meet-cute?”

Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but I think yes. Steven clearly has terrible taste in men, but Owen’s particular brand of crazy is just a special type of dedication to going after what he wants. Whether that’s a business of inoffensive statues or asking out the cute guy in traffic, there’s something to admire in it, and I think with Owen onboard to temper his occasionally over-exuberant enthusiasm, these two guys will do just fine.

Is this statue rental business a real thing you’ve seen before?

It is not, but I think there’s an opportunity there! If any aspiring entrepreneurs read this and want to use the concept, happy to hand it over for a fifteen percent cut off the top ;)

What's a great short story you’ve read recently?

Loxley is One Thousand Bats, by my good friend Camsyn Clair! There is something to be said for finding a “come as you are” type love, and I personally think there is no better way to put that to the test than by turning into one thousand bats.

What book are you reading right now?

I am reading the highly controversial “Hogg” by Samuel R. Delany, as well as “Homosexual Society” by Richard Hauser. Both are pit stops in a road trip I’m taking back in time, studying the evolution of queer literature/rights in 20th-century primary texts, and both have taught me very cool, vastly different things about history, queerness, and my creative sensibilities.

I recently did a secret santa short story exchange where I subjected my dear friend (and secret santa recipient) Chad Frame to approximately 6000 words of butt-plug hoarding holiday romance (sorry, Chad). I suppose the least I can do is give him a proper shout-out now that expresses my appreciation for him in a properly phthalate-free fashion. Chad Frame is a Lambda-nominated poet laureate and stunning 3x winner of Writing Battle, most recently with the wicked-sharp dystopian tale Disassembly. His poetry is pretty fucking spectacular if I do say so myself. You can read some of my favorites here and here, or support his poetic genius by buying his most excellent Little Black Book here. If you want to learn from the mad genius himself, join his class starting in two weeks and learn all about balancing poetry and prose for effective and impactful storytelling. Be there or be square!

Thanks to Lyss for the lesson in love and statues!

🤖 Elon Musk’s X Restricts Ability to Create Explicit Images With Grok - The Independent Variable

2026-01-15T22:21:08.000Z

NY Times

It’s laughable it took this long.

The FBI and and anyone who has had their image created or depicted in an explicit manner should be going after Elon Musk, X, and use everything within their legal power to identify the people prompting Grok for these images and go after them using revenge porn and deepfake porn laws.

Only California, New York, and Virginia currently have deepfake porn laws on the books, but I’d still go hard after X as co-conspirators on disseminating revenge porn.

🗿 Joan’s Stone on Loan - foofaraw

2026-01-15T17:00:42.000Z

IN MY DEFENSE, how else was I going to get his number?

Picture this: Thursday evening, 5:00 PM, LA traffic, the intersection of Pico and La Cienega. You see the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life driving in front of you. Not even his whole face, just a sliver—brown eye, freckled skin, angular cheekbone, deep-set brow. You’re one green light away from the world’s worst missed connection: what would you do?

It was supposed to be gentle. A love-tap, really.

A silly little rear-end incident; “oh my god, I’m so sorry, we should exchange information for insurance,” followed by a comment on his boots, or hair, or face, and watching the flush creep up his oh-so-pale neck, confirming that yes, he is indeed batting for the same team, and then a text a few days later, “hey, how are you doing? So sorry about the car, can I give you a ride to pick it up after repairs?” and then the ride turns into coffee, the coffee turns into lunch, the lunch turns into love, and there you have it folks: my future husband.

Except, it didn’t go down like that, because my dumb ass forgot…

“Joan’s Stone on Loan?” The handsome stranger reads the side of my car while holding his bleeding nose—unfortunately broken by his airbag, which shouldn’t have deployed from a mere love-tap… if that love-tap hadn’t been backed by 1200 pounds of premium Calacatta marble.

“Yeah,” I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly, taking in the crooked logo sprawled across the side of my Subaru Crosstrek—crooked because the rear tires decided to burst with the recoil impact of the previously aforementioned 1200 pounds of premium Calacatta marble currently occupying my bungied-closed trunk. “It’s uh, my business.”

“You’re Joan?” The stranger has to look down his pinched nose to ask, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“No, I’m uh, Steven. Sorry about…” I gesture vaguely in the direction of his ruined Honda Civic.

“So, who’s Joan? And why is there a statue of Bob Ross in your trunk? And—is that Bill Nye?”

Artwork by Tony Tran

It was Bill Nye, before the force of my imbecilic impact chipped off most of his nose and left ear. Insurance is so not gonna cover this.

“Joan is, um, Joan Didion. My pet pigeon. Just seemed fitting naming the business after her. We do statue rentals.”

In my head, this would be something I revealed over our car-crash-coffee;“Yeah, I’m an entrepreneur, current gig is in government contracts, no biggie. Next will be private sector.” The middle of a crowded intersection—Subaru hood billowing smoke, assholes honking in a car-exhaust cacophony—is not how I imagined this going.

“Statue rentals?” Mr. Ex-Future-Husband asks.

“Yeah, when cities get called out for their old racist statues in parks and courthouses and stuff—you know, Robert E. Lee, Christopher Columbus, etcetera—they commission new ones with more socially conscious public figures. But in the meantime, they can’t just leave the old problematic one up. Enter: Joan’s Stone on Loan. We offer a variety of inoffensive public figures to serve as interim replacements until the final statue arrives.”

“But… Bob Ross? Bill Nye?”

“We’ve found that the socially conscious white man is a very popular option. We like to consider it a baby step towards having, say, a woman, or a person of color.”

Mr. Ex-Future-Husband laughs, then winces and clutches his nose. “Ok, that’s good,” he laughs again, winces again, and it’s only natural for me to want to help, right?

“Here, lean forward,” I put a hand on his back to guide him—sharp shoulder, warm skin, soft shirt, big yes. “Better to let it bleed. I’m really sorry…”

“Owen,” he says, not shrugging my hand off (!!!). “And don’t be sorry. It’s my ex’s car. It’ll be his headache to deal with.”

Euphoria—birds singing, harps playing, rainbows shining, Owen’s big brown (and apparently single) eyes eating me up.

“Still, the whole…” I gesture vaguely at his face. “Can I take you to the doctor, maybe? Once the tow truck is here, I mean.”

“Don’t you have your own problems to deal with?” Owen eyes the burst tires of my crumple-nosed Subaru.

“I have problems, but I also have priorities,” I shrug. “You strike me as a priority.”

Owen cocks a brow—winces again too, but I ignore it, because holy cow is he cute with the eyebrow, single-cocked, like he’s practiced.

“Are you coming on to me?” he asks.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained?” I offer.

Something ventured, statue cracked, nose broken, congestion caused—in both sinus and traffic form.

Owen laughs, but then the symphony comes crashing to a halt with his next question: “Is that why you decided to hit me in the first place?”

Time stops. Horns honk. Hearts break. Or at least, mine does. It’s suddenly very, very hot, more than the heat radiating off summer-scorched asphalt.

But then I look, and there’s Owen, fucking Owen, brown eyes downright twinkling at my discomfort.

“... would you say yes if it was?” I ask carefully.

Owen considers. “If it’s the last crazy thing you do… maybe. Because I just broke up with a load of crazy. Now I wrecked his car and I’m potentially agreeing to a date with a guy who runs a socially conscious statue rental business out of the back of his Subaru and thought the proper meet-cute was a car crash, so…”

“In my defense, there was no other way to get your number,” I counter.

“You could always pull a La La Land in literal stopped traffic and, ya know, just get out of your car and ask.”

“You’d think I was a crazy person!”

Owen gives me a look. The look.

Game over.

“Wanna skip the hospital and just marry me?” I ask.

Owen laughs again, a rivulet of red running down his pale paisley shirt. “How about you buy me dinner first?”

“Ok; hospital, dinner, then holy matrimony.”

“Deal.”

Lyss Buchthal (they/them) is a US-based writer whose writing centers queer Americana, primarily themes on identity, perception, and power. Lyss's work appears or is forthcoming in The Orange & Bee, Rat Bag Literary, Pipeline Artists, and Neon Dystopia.

🕹️ Tombs and cheese - foofaraw

2026-01-13T20:02:03.000Z

🆕 On the Shelves

🟠 Metroid Prime 4: Beyond

Nintendo

Samus Aran returns in a first-person sci-fi adventure focused on exploration, atmosphere, and environmental storytelling.

To be honest, I have not played any of the Metroid Prime games, so coming to this one, I had no frame of reference to compare it to. I have not played this one either, but watched a Let’s Play for the first few hours of the game.

It may be my age, or just because I don’t have enough other references, but the game’s aesthetic really reminded me of the Halo series. Still, it looks gorgeous, and the biomes are all very pretty and deftly created. As Samus has the ability to turn into a ball, this adds an interesting element to the exploration as you can look for various secret (or not-so-secret) places.

The gameplay also has the player scanning various items (mobs, plants, objects) to understand their weak points, genetic make up and relevance to the game, which, based on the let’s play that I watched, gets quite annoying over time.

One of the big critiques of the game is the “open-world” element, which has the player traverse a basically barren wilderness:

But eventually it becomes clear that the desert is a bare and boring place. There are some basic shrines where you can solve simple puzzles to unlock new power-ups, and some space junk and other points of interest to investigate.

Another review I read was also critical of the overall package:

Even after 8 years of development, the game lacks a cohesive vision. It’s a cobbled mess of uninspired ideas with flashes of brilliance.

🎸 UNBEATABLE

D-Cell Games

A young girl learns a song. An exclusive side-story set in the world of D-CELL GAMES' upcoming rhythm-adventure.

I checked out the demo and this is not your typical rhythm game (are there typical rhythm games?) The inputs are just two keys D and F to hit notes that are coming towards you. The music (at least the ones that I played in the demo) are pop punk/rock tracks which felt different too. Bit of a Scott Pilgrim meets Jet Set Radio vibe, all wrapped up in a Japan/anime aesthetic.

😎 Terminator 2D: No Fate

Developer: Bitmap Bureau

Publisher: Reef Entertainment

Experience the thrill of Terminator 2: Judgment Day with arcade action & pixel-perfect graphics! In this unique story blending iconic scenes from the movie with original scenarios and multiple endings, humanity’s fate is yours to decide.

A Metal Slug-style 2D beat-em-up with loads of polish.

📡 On the Radar

🛕 Tomb Raider - Legacy of Atlantis

Developer: Crystal Dynamics, Flying Wild Hog

Publisher: Amazon Game Studios

Experience the pinnacle of adventure with Tomb Raider: Legacy of Atlantis, a stunning reimagining of Lara Croft’s 1996 genre-defining game with jaw-dropping visuals powered by Unreal Engine 5, modern gameplay, and new surprises that honor the spirit of the original.

The following perhaps should be a standalone blog post, but I provide it here anyway, as watching the trailer really brought out these thoughts in me.

The trailer looks ace (as you’d expect). But, I can’t help but compare it to the 2013 Tomb Raider reboot game, though (which did really well), and think: beyond graphical fidelity, what are we really bringing to big-budget games in 2025? This isn’t a criticism of the developers or the technology. There have clearly been meaningful advances in animation, accessibility, performance capture, and production values, but they largely feel evolutionary rather than transformative.

I teach a class on video game history, and for me, the shift from 2D to 3D in the mid-to-late 1990s (with the PS1, N64, and SEGA Saturn) represented a fundamental change in how games were designed, played, and understood. It also opened the door to some wonderfully experimental projects (like those by ArtDink) that simply wouldn’t have been possible before. But compared to that moment, much of what we’ve seen in the last 15 years (at least in the big-budget action-adventure space Tomb Raider occupies) feels like refinement and iteration on design ideas that were already largely in place by the early 2000s.

I think there are two specific reasons why there were more experimental games in the past:

The fact that the 3D platform was new meant that genres, types, clichés, and tropes had not solidified yet.

It was like the wild west of game development, with studios trying new concepts rather than relying on established traditions. Related to this: on the early episodes of the Insert Credit podcast, they often refer to the early days of smartphones and how people would buy an app that emulated beer drinking (i.e., the app used the phones’ accelerometer to change the level of the drink on screen). I think the same is true of early 3D games – everything was new and shiny for consumers, too, so they were more open to buying mechanically strange, concept-driven, or genre-hybrid games.

Budgets were not as big, and indie studios could compete more easily.
While I don’t have the exact budget sheets in front of me, industry estimates show that AAA game budgets have exploded compared with the mid-90s. Titles that once cost a few million dollars to make, and which still broke big, are now routinely hundreds of millions to produce (and, increasingly, market!). The price of making AAA games in 2025 has escalated dramatically! As examples: Call of Duty cost over $300 million (IGN), and The Last of Us Part II cost over $220 (Games Radar).

Team sizes, development times, and production complexity have all grown alongside expectations for photorealistic visuals and cinematic presentation. Of course, big-budget games back in the early 00s were also expensive, but not on par with what we are seeing today (FFVII being a big-budget game, clocking in at around $45 million). What this meant was that the financial risk of taking creative risks was much lower for individual studios and teams.

In sum, then, there is a huge risk in trying to make something genuinely new for big studios. If it fails, the financial consequences can be severe.

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Iteration is how a medium matures. But it does raise an interesting question: if graphical realism is approaching diminishing returns, where will the next genuinely disruptive leap in mainstream game design come from?

I don’t think it will be VR any time soon. (I may eat my words on this)... I see people talking about fully voice-acted, chatbot-powered NPCs a lot. This could be a reality. And I wonder what kind of games (and game genres) could be created out of this. My initial thought goes to ギャルゲー [GYARU GE-] and 乙女ゲー [OTOMO GE-] (dating sims), but imagine it in something like a horror game... talking to a psychopath NPC that is just freaking you the heck out... would be quite interesting. But which company will leap into this new domain? My guess is that it won’t be an AAA studio. Indies and mid-scale companies are the ones driving innovation, where the financial stakes allow for experimentation.

This is how economics is shaping our gaming landscape.

🎮 In Rotation

🤺 Clair Obscur - Expedition 33

Developer: Sandfall Interactive

Publisher: Kepler Interactive

Lead the members of Expedition 33 on their quest to destroy the Paintress so that she can never paint death again. Explore a world of wonders inspired by Belle Époque France and battle unique enemies in this turn-based RPG with real-time mechanics.

I had to check out the “Game of the Year,” didn’t I?! I’m currently 80% through as of the day of writing (2025/12/23, yes, in Japan format)

I had to postpone my play-through of Final Fantasy VII Rebirth for this. The reason is that it was lent to me by a student at Sophia University (where I work on Thursdays). There are so many reviews out there, from people who have played through it in much more depth than me, but let me give my honest thoughts here.

The graphics are incredible. Man, saying this after my rant above seems a little superficial..! But they really are excellent. The whole world is designed into such intricate detail that pretty much every screen has you going “wow” like the dude from the MLG meme:

Every corner you go around is another phantasmagoria of colour, shapes, textures, and imagery, one more impressive than the last. They absolutely nailed it. From the intricately detailed French streets of the intro to the dark, brooding caves of the later levels, all the way to the amalgamation of all zones towards the end of the game (no spoilers), you’re treated to a huge variety of glitter-infused, GPU-pushing spectacles one after another.

However, something got me thinking... I was playing the game with my son last night (or, more like I was playing, and he was watching. Sorry, son!) and he said to me, “Imagine if this game were like The Legend of Zelda - Breath of the Wild and you could go anywhere you want in the world.” This question from my son is important for my critique of the game in terms of graphics and the resulting gameplay.

The game feels like you’re on rails. It’s super linear. This is why there is no map during the levels—you don’t need one. Just head straight and you’ll get to the boss. The levels are generally of the same structure—fight mobs along the path, save at a flag, and repeat until you get to the boss. So the critique here is that yes, the levels are designed beautifully, but the negative that comes out of that is the fact that you basically have these super elaborately designed corridors, which the player walks down. You cannot go off the beaten track, because there is no beaten track.

In terms of story—it’s intriguing. I still haven’t beaten the game, and I don’t want to spoil it, so I’ll keep this section short and say that the people that you meet along the path seem oddly familiar and connected to the main party in some less-than-wholesome ways (I think, at least). Being a mystery does keep me interested in the narrative, though. I really DO want to figure out what is going on. Or, at least, be shown the whole picture.

The battle system also requires some words. Here’s some:
Turn-based, rhythm-game-like, juicy explosion festival of pain (with tiny numbers...).

The battle system is cool. Turn-based, so you have time to think, but the enemy hits fricken hard, and you have to dodge or parry their attacks. How do you do this? By having excellent timing (and memorisation of attack patterns) to press your button just in time as they come swinging in with their single, double, or multiple strike attack. Miss a few, and you can say goodbye to that character. Getting a parry and counterattack does feel amazing, though, as time slows down and the sound goes BOOM.

The game deserves the praise it’s getting, but still, I would have liked to see Kojima grab at least one award at The Game Awards for the amazing Death Stranding 2 On the Beach.

🕵️‍♂️ Unheard - Voices of Crime

Developer: NEXT Studios

Publisher: NEXT Studios, 505 Games

What if you could hear every word spoken at the scene of a crime? “Acoustic Detectives” wanted for testing our new device! Return aurally to crime scenes and use the voices you hear to identify potential suspects and solve the mysteries. What is it that’s connecting these seemingly unrelated cases?

I played through the first two missions. It's a cool concept and very original.

You go to a crime scene where participants/actors are dispersed into multiple rooms, and you can choose who you follow over the length of a single audio recording. Start with one set of people, then once you’ve listened through, go and listen again from the perspective of another actor. Once you have the person’s name locked in, they appear on the map throughout the recording.

You can also leave little comments on the recording, which fly across the screen as it plays back, so you can keep track of the various narrative arcs. The voice acting was a little poor, if I’m honest. The fake French accent and pretend smoking in the bathroom were particularly grating.

👸 姫ギャルパラダイスメチカワ!アゲ盛り↑センセーション (Hime Girl Paradise Mechikawa! Age mori sensation)

NipponColumbia

I’m on a mission to up my game literacy this year. And, being bilingual in Japanese and English. I’ve been playing some Japan exclusives. This one came out on the 3DS in 2012 and is all about ギャル (gal) culture.

The story mode has you do a bunch of missions, unlocking new clothes, makeup, and accessories from various gal sub-genres (princess gal, dark gal, casual gal, etc.). There are also fashion checks, a shop to buy various items, and mini games. One of the mini games has you learn “gal-go” a type of gal language which uses odd characters to spell words via SMS. Example from wiki:

ｷょぅゎ、1囚τ"〒〒ｶヽ世τ㊦±ぃ。
→きょうは、1人で行かせて下さい。

It's a fun way to learn about this genuinely unique subculture of Japan.

🧀 Cheese Rolling

Developer: The Interviewed

Publisher: The Interviewed

Chase a cheese wheel down a steep hill! Tumble with friends in this ragdoll recreation of an English tradition.

A free-to-play, stupid, little ragdoll physics fun.

—James

😞 I can’t do this - The Independent Variable

2026-01-12T18:17:12.000Z

Birchtree

I got into the irony of 2nd Amendment fanatics saying they needed gun for if the government sent masked men into their streets yelling, “papers please”, only to then cheer for those masked men when they did take to the streets.

Things have been quiet around these parts and I apologize for that. Life, holidays, work, and Foofaraw, have taken up a lot of time and the news as of late has just been devastating. We’re invading countries, have a secret police asking people for their papers, shooting unarmed citizens in the face, storming houses without warrants, racially profiling people, deporting people without due process, supporting genocide, letting health insurance rates spike exponentially while sending billions to places like Argentina, and suing our own federal reserve—all while the president and his family make more money in the last 10 years than they made their entire lives—it’s devastating.

To even think about the news, let alone read it, feels like a herculean task—and that’s from someone with a good job, supportive family, and has all the privilege in the world as a straight white cis man. I can’t begin to imagine what it must feel like for people worried they could be kidnapped or harassed at any moment because of the way they look.

I’m rambling at this point, but I feel stuck and sad and I don’t know what else to do. It’s infuriating talking to people who you know are decent people, but still can’t understand the harm this administration is doing.

🦠 Post-Apocalyptic Procyonid Plague - foofaraw

2026-01-11T17:00:53.000Z

After the nuclear sands stopped glowing
We finally removed the poison from the ground
Huddled in our lab burning candles from both ends
Planting samples and tenderly caring for each kernel
Waiting with baited breath for every
Monocot sheath that cracked the soil
A promise of new growth a garden for all to share

But humanity was far from the only survivor
For every night they come in their masks
Their grubby hands grasping at anything they can grab
With no consideration for the decades of work we poured–
Poured into every drought resistant, carbon replenishing
Stalk that snaps in two under the strain of their rotund bodies
Until they plop down on their ring tailed asses
Bewildered as if discovering gravity the very first time
Still gripping as many ears as their paws can hold

The rascals make mockery of our relocation drones
Napping in the nets like hammocks before making
The fifteen mile trek back to the cornfields of plenty
Each exiled bandit bringing three new friends
Back to witness with their own eyes
This apparent procyonid paradise we’ve planted

The elders say with naivete of old age
“How wonderful that after the end we still
Share our world with these creatures”
Preaching their pacifism to all creation
Their gray eyes on our fields of plenty
Despite the sight that appears each night
This post-apocalyptic procyonid plague
While we labor in our labs to the symphony
The crunching corn, cracking stalks and the sound
Of another greedy raccoon hitting the ground

Andrew Maust is a recovering adjunct who lives in Mesa, Arizona. His writing can be found in Radon Journal, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, MetaStellar, and Utopia Science Fiction. When he isn't writing, he spends his time extolling the virtues of sleeping in a hammock.

🎙️ E.J. LeRoy - foofaraw

2026-01-09T22:55:28.000Z

Read E.J.'s story, Moon to Moon FM, on Foofaraw now!

Do you believe in any conspiracy stories?

I question everything, particularly official narratives. That doesn’t mean I “believe in” conspiracy theories. Instead, I tend to simply ignore things that have nothing to do with my daily life as they don’t affect me and I can’t do anything about them anyway.

What are your thoughts about people who believe the earth is flat or that we never went to the moon?

Whether the earth is round or flat or humans ever went to the moon or not really doesn’t matter in my day-to-day life. Nor, do I suspect, it truly matters to most other people. Unless your job is somehow dependent on the actual shape of the earth or space exploration funding, why is anybody fighting about this? Sherlock Holmes expressed a similar sentiment in A Study of Scarlet about not caring whether the earth revolved around the sun or vice versa, and I agree.

Have you ever called into a radio show and been on air?

I have yet to call a radio program, although some of my family members have. My late grandmother in particular frequently called radio stations to win prizes and often did. She also enjoyed listening to a certain nighttime talk show that shall remain nameless. That program definitely inspired “Moon to Moon FM,” as did the fact that my grandmother believed a lot of the interviewed guests’ wild stories.

If the aliens in your story ever landed on Earth, how do you think we—the human race—would receive them?

I unfortunately think that they would receive the alleged Area 51 treatment.

How many planets and moons make up the empire?

I have no idea how many planets and moons make up the Xil’kana Empire. “Moon to Moon FM” was a one-off parody of real-life conspiracy theory radio shows. It never developed into a larger universe. Of course, if I did state the number of planets and moons, conspiracy theorists would probably dispute it.

What other conspiracy stories do you think Thev’nar and Tiyanok believe in?

Thev’nar and Tiyanok probably believe anything to do with government cover-ups about the existence of human beings.

What's a great short story you’ve read recently?

“Real Housewives of the Intergalactic” by HJ Ramsay, published in Translunar Travelers Lounge, is a lot of fun. It is a sweet and hopeful sci-fi comedy that we could use more of in tough times.

What book are you reading right now?

I am reading How to Make Money in Any Market by Jim Cramer because being a writer doesn’t usually pay the bills.

Here is an incoming shameless plug alert for my ongoing sci-fi short story, novelette, and novella series The Intergalactic Misadventures of Henry Trevalu. Henry is the twenty-two-year-old Catholic, aro ace, sole heir and fifty percent owner of Trevalu Intergalactic Spice Company who somehow manages to get knocked around the universe time and time again. Family wealth doesn’t mean much when you get forcibly stuffed into a giant snow marsupial’s pouch, temporarily lose some of your teeth due to an extraterrestrial chewing gum accident, and cheat the death penalty on an alien planet by letting your hermaphroditic cellmate impregnate you with two thousand pseudo-octopus fry, among other interplanetary mishaps. Pleading His Belly on Zakon-4 (yep, the mpreg one) is coming to a galaxy near you in Spring 2026 courtesy of The Whumpy Printing Press.

Thanks to E.J. for talking aliens and conspiracies with us!

📻 Moon to Moon FM - foofaraw

2026-01-08T17:54:01.000Z

The following program contains unedited and uncensored information that the ruling class does not want you to know. Listener discretion is advised.

“Welcome back to Moon to Moon FM, your radio program on all things paranormal, supernatural, off-planet, out-of-galaxy, and just plain weird. I’m your host, Thev’nar. Before the commercial break, our guest, Mezadan, discussed his intimate encounter with sentient beings from a planet outside the Kirazart Galaxy. We thank Mezadan for having the courage to share his harrowing experience with us on our program. We have time for just one more caller. So give us a call on Moon Colony Seven, conveniently located on Moon Seven. The line is open…

“It seems we have our last caller of the night. Hello? You’re on the air.”

“Hello.”

“We have good sound tonight. Apparently, the Xil’kana Empire isn’t jamming our signals for a change. Maybe their overpaid censors are sleeping on the job. Ha ha! Okay, joking aside, who’s calling please, and where are you calling from?”

“My name is Tiyanok and I’m calling from the Main Planet, Hom’Kirazart.”

“Ah, a long-distance caller! Well, you’re coming in just fine. Can you hear us okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. We don’t get many calls from the main hub of the Xil’kana Empire these days. So how’s the Empire been treating you?”

“Not bad. Taxes are higher than ever, but what do you expect?”

“Hah! I assure you, it’s not much better out here in the moon colonies. Tell me, Tiyanok, what’s on your mind?”

“Well, I was listening to your last guest’s testimony about his alien encounter, and it got me thinking about Incident 317.”

“Yeah, we talk about Incident 317 quite a bit here on Moon to Moon FM. What’re your thoughts?”

“Like you, I think the whole thing is a blatant cover-up. I mean, we all know the official story: ‘Exploratory Spaceship 317 and its crew of five burned up in the atmosphere over Moon Six.’ But you and I know that’s not the way it happened. There’s plenty of evidence out there that 317 and its crew not only made it past our galaxy but successfully landed on another planet.”

“Oh, absolutely! Here at Moon to Moon FM, we’ve always maintained that the pictures of 317’s alleged destruction above Moon Six were staged.”

Artwork by Tony Tran

“Don’t get me started, Thev! Those official pictures are totally fake. But the Xil’kana Empire wants everybody to think they’re real because 317 very likely made first contact with the intelligent primate aliens of that largely aquatic planet in Galaxy 42. That’s the same galaxy where your last guest claimed to have had his disturbing encounter with hominids. And I don’t have to tell you or your listeners that Galaxy 42 has never been formally acknowledged by our government, even though it surely must exist. Not to mention there’s also evidence that 317 landed and the crew was taken prisoner by the alien primates’ empire.”

“There’s definitely evidence to that effect. No question about it.”

“Also, if the crew of 317 was captured, it would explain why there haven’t been any manned exploratory missions beyond our galaxy since, and why such missions have been forbidden until further notice. What further notice are they waiting for? That’s what I’d like to know. Incident 317 happened over a hundred years ago!”

“Yeah, and if you bring any of that up, the mainstream writes you off as some crazy conspiracy theorist.”

“As usual, Thev, you’ve got it absolutely right.”

“Well, thanks for calling in, Tiyanok. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have tonight. Tune in tomorrow when we’re joined by Xilikam, a former employee of the Xil’kana Empire’s mysterious drone-based space exploration program. For his safety, his real name will be kept secret, and his voice will be modified when he gives his interview tomorrow. But I promise you, his testimony will be most enlightening. Until tomorrow, I’m your host, Thev’nar, from Moon to Moon FM, broadcasting from Moon Colony Seven. Goodnight.”

End transmission.

E.J. LeRoy is a freelance writer and poet whose work has appeared in several speculative and literary fiction publications, including After the Storm Magazine, Fiction on the Web, Neon & Smoke, NonBinary Review, and Tales from the Crosstimbers. LeRoy also published the novelette Fusion and has a science fiction, mpreg novella starring recurring character, Henry Trevalu, forthcoming at The Whumpy Printing Press in 2026. Visit the author’s website at http://ejleroy.weebly.com.

🏴‍☠️ The United States has captured Venezuela’s dictator, Nicolás Maduro - The Independent Variable

2026-01-03T15:05:50.000Z

The Economist

I’m blowing up ships in international waters, breaking domestic and international laws, invading other countries, asking people for their papers on the street and rounding them up based on inherent traits, and participating in genocide. Who am I?

🎙️ Ben Daggers - foofaraw

2026-01-02T17:19:53.000Z

Read Ben’s story, Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch, on Foofaraw now!

How often do you go bowling?

My forty-something wrists, unfortunately, don’t enjoy hurling heavy stuff down the lane as much as they used to, so only once a year or so.

How often does it end in disappointment?

Every. Single. Time.

What’s the highest score you’ve ever gotten bowling?

I’ve barely scraped three digits. Probably 110ish.

Do you think our protagonist ever ends up winning, or are they doomed to perpetual losing?

I’d like to think that at some point their luck changes (though that would be bad news for the fairy orphans and flightless veterans.)

What would happen if a fairy was caught cheating and influencing a game as our fairy does here?

I imagine that cheating is a serious business in the world of lane fairies. Three match ban, minimum.

Do you think Alette plays fair? Or have they been breaking the rules to turn things in their favor the entire time?

That’s a very good question. I’d always imagined her to be irritatingly pious, but the more I think about it, the more I think she might have been secretly breaking the rules all this time.

What’s a great short story you’ve read recently?

The Girl Who Found Things by Henry Slesar is a wonderfully dark, classic story of the occult which I found in a short story collection edited by Isaac Asimov.

What book are you reading right now?

Tales of the Occult edited by Asimov (see above.)

My talented friend Jaime Gill has just had a great little story published in New Flash Fiction: https://newflashfiction.com/appeasement/

Thanks to Ben for helping us start the new year on the right foot!

🎳 Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch - foofaraw

2026-01-01T17:09:18.000Z

There are many mysteries that baffle you stupid humans, from the building of the pyramids to the meaning of life. But nothing bakes your noodles quite as much as wondering what goes on at the far end of a bowling lane. Where do the pins go? How do they know which ones to put back and which to leave down? If you’re imagining some complex series of motors and sensors, think again. The answer’s us: bowling fairies.

Every lane, in every bowling alley in the world, is run by a different bowling fairy. I’m stationed at San Jose Megabowl’s lane seventeen. Not the best-paying spot in the world, but not the worst, either. When I say ‘pay’ don’t think for one second I mean those filthy pieces of paper you all seem to care about so much. I’m talking about human disappointment. Human disappointment is our currency, our fuel, our reason for goddamn being.

Every gutterball, every missed spare, every thwarted perfect game; these put the spring in our step and the glitter on our wings. Here at the Megabowl, we have a league of our own: each month we measure who’s collected the most disappointment, and the winner gets to take home the lot—down to the last disappointing drop.

Tonight’s the night I finally knock Alette off her stupid perch. That lane six bitch wins every freaking month, but rather than keep the disappointment for herself, little miss holier-than-thou donates it to fairy orphans and flightless veterans. Not me. After I sweep this month’s title, I’ll bathe in that shit. And when my fellow fairies cry about me being mean and selfish, I’ll use their pathetic tears as bubble bath.

There’s no way I can lose. I’m only a point behind Alette, and the final game on my lane is between two official bowling teams. Team games bring out every ounce of stress, anger, and frustration. It all adds up to a bucketload of disappointment—more than enough to tip the championship in my favor.

Artwork by Tony Tran

Things are off to a bad start, though. Both teams are bowling strikes, and their energy is peaceful and collected. Not a single drop of disappointment so far. I might need to break a few rules…

During the next would-be strike, I flutter by, grabbing onto the ten-pin for dear life. The bowler doesn’t flinch. Even when I swerve his second throw wide of the spare, he’s a picture of calm. Fuck.

I up the ante on the next player, leaving him with a dreaded 7-10 split. He smiles, a beacon of tranquility. Double fuck.

I pull out every trick: stealing their favorite ball, misscoring, changing their names in the system to ‘StoolbreathMcFuckFace’, but none of it produces a fairy’s jockstrap of disappointment. These bastards are unflappable.

The game ends and smug-as-shit Alette celebrates another victory. As I sulk back empty-winged, I catch a glimpse of the players’ shirts.

One thing’s for sure: next time the San Jose Stoic Society plays the Bayside Buddhists, this bowling fairy’s going on strike.

Ben Daggers is a short fiction writer from London, but living in Osaka, Japan. He loves exploring the dark edges of fiction, then slowly backing away when things get a little too dark.

When not writing, procrastinating, or feeling guilty for procrastinating instead of writing, Ben designs award-winning escape rooms.

📮 January zines - foofaraw

2026-01-01T17:05:17.000Z

The January issues of Foofaraw Zine, Four-headed Foofaraw, and the new magazine Quotidian Bagatelle are here!

Of course, all stories will be published for free on the web throughout the month, but paid supporters receive a PDF/EPUB with all of the month's stories at the beginning of the month, along with a few other goodies, including the bonus Four-headed Foofaraw.

Individual issues are available for purchase exclusively on Weightless books, where you can also subscribe.

Periodic Aggregation: Routed Carefully & Electronically Logged

This month...

Stories

Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch by Ben Daggers
Moon to Moon FM by E.J. LeRoy
Joena's Stone on Loan by Lyss Buchthal
Torrents by Erica W. Weems
The Last Free Apple Cider Donut by Jeff Goldberg

Poem

Post-Apocalyptic Procyonid Plague by Andrew Maust

Observations

The driving essay by Nicholas de Marino
Four-headed Foofaraw

Interviews

Ben Daggers
E.J. LeRoy
Lyss Buchthal
Erica W. Weems
Jeff Goldberg

Cover art

by Tony Tran

On to the zines...

🏘️ With friends like these - foofaraw

2025-12-25T17:00:08.000Z

I dreamt last night I was completely alone; for the first time, my so-called friends were nowhere to be seen. Just me and the aching, yawning silence I had forever been dreaming of. But as soon as I fell in love with the peace of mind, the echo of the void began to tug at my shivering naked body; where I was, I was nowhere to be found. I hate how nothing can just be simple and good, not even in my dreams. But at least if I disappeared, I wouldn't have to suffer my friendship anymore; if I couldn't be content in waking nightmares, asleep, or in dreams, at least I could find something resembling peace in death. Maybe then, at last, I could be free.

The blare of my alarm clock painfully woke me. I jolted up, frazzle-haired, crusty-eyed, and moaning. I kicked the parade of legs beside me and groaned as I realized all my stupid friends had decided to spend the night. As if they weren't satisfied taking up all my days; now they had to steal my nights too, and what little sleep I could squeeze in between the energy drinks, booze, and endless hedonistic excursions. How… functional and productive. I'm truly the image of 21st-century success.

Let’s see. I have five awful roommates to split the rent and split my skull, a low-level position at a dying rag, no boyfriend, no family except my self-righteous brother, and no future prospects. Always a cough or one incident with my friends away from being fired, or homeless, as my friend Rachel always likes to remind me when she's not going on about the world ending. All my other friends dropped them, but I'm stuck; I have no choice but to deal with them. They keep me down in the dirt, always a million words behind, unshowered, confused, awkward, stupid, re-traumatized, scared, paralyzed, reckless, and poor.

Like that time Rachel convinced me my ex-boyfriend gave me AIDs just because I had a bruise on my chest and was coughing up blood, which turned out to be from a beating at some mosh pit Cleo dragged me to. Or that time Conrad tried to remind me of my traumatic, fucked-up, don't ask, childhood by driving me to the scene of the crime. Or overly awkward Mable, who made me think someone wanted me to kiss them when they didn’t, who is always leaving me second-guessing the most basic social interactions and feeling and confused and embarrassed and just plain dumb all the fucking time. God, I hate her. Or that time Mimi made me miss all my deadlines at grad school with stupid, distracting bullshit like impulsive vacations, or what Ben Franklin said about casual sex, so I had to drop out, fucking bitch. So yeah, they say you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends; whoever said that hasn't spent a week with mine. Not everyone has such awful friends, so not everyone can relate; they understand I stay living with them for rent, but can't understand why I'm such a doormat. To be honest, I do not know either. I've tried to tell them off. They always come right back. It's been so long now; I can't imagine a life without them, but I wish I could.

Mimi sat next to me on the bed, dressed in leg warmers, a crop top with a thousand necklaces, and a rainbow tutu, looking like she had just gotten back from preschool. She was smiling at me like the Cheshire cat, sending shivers down my spine. When I pulled out my computer to work, she grabbed my phone and started to scroll, shoving the phone in my face.

“Hey, Eddie, I just created a new Kahoot quiz: who is the best gay friend group. I added characters from East Siders, Queer as Folk, and a bunch of other shows… wanna play?”

I put my computer down and scrolled on my phone to see the quiz. She looked giddy. I looked back at the unwritten document Trevor would surely have my ass for. I had to finish this right now, not later; I didn't have later. But it was too late. I had already forgotten about my work. Two hours later we had gone through seven quizzes, created two, read several short stories I wrote in middle school to laugh, called several old friends and exes, watched four funny videos, and that's just what I can remember.

“Wow this is so funny,” I said, lost in the 10th funny music video we were watching.

“Yeah. Oh… you reminded me, we should go see that movie that came out today, Love Sick, about a hot rich guy who’s dying of cancer, and his boyfriend, girlfriend, and other boyfriend are all fighting but also trying to fulfill his dying wish of building a home for troubled teens.”

“Yeah, we should, but don't we have, like… something to do today?” I asked. Mimi shrugged in vain.

“WORK! WORK! WORK! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK AND GET FIRED! AND THEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE HOMELESS AND DIE! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT, YOU STUPID, INCOMPETENT LOSER?” Rachel screamed, bursting in. I looked at the clock—fuck, we were late—looked back at the Google Doc, and realized this whole time I hadn't written a word.

“Oh my god, fuck you, Mimi! This is what you wanted, isn't it, to distract me again!”

“I just wanted to have fun with you, Eddie,” she whined, hardly apologetic. She did this daily.

“FUN? Who has time for that?”

Later at work I stumbled in looking sick and unkempt. Trevor gave me a private talk, saying I'm on thin ice.

“We said you can keep your job if you really knock it out of the park with this week's issue. You did finish it this time… didn't you?” I sighed, giving as guilty a look as ever I could muster. Trevor stroked his beard and snapped his fingers. He always was good at pretending to like me, so he must have convinced himself he’d feel real bad about what he was about to do.

“Listen, Eddie, I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Save it, I quit.”

I walked away and out the door, flipping off Trevor. The world felt fast. Things were happening before I could think them through or even process their crash-burn, rocking, shaking aftermath.

“God, you know what, Eds, I think this was for the best. Now that you don’t have to give your talents to these hacks, you can be your best self, and you won’t be tied down by such a demanding job,” Mimi said. “Now you can have more time for yourself, for your book.”

“For your neglected romantic resume,” Cleo swooned, practically catcalling an attractive gentleman walking by. Honks, screams, the trains under our feet, pigeons getting ready to shit overhead, and the blaring sun burned. It was rush hour, and I couldn't take much more of this. I held back some tears and rubbed my hands, trying to maintain composure in public. I was going home to get some rest. Of course, they chased after me. I could feel my heartbeat increasing, full of stress and regret.

“Now that we don't have a job, how are we going to make friends? You know how hard that is for us,” Mable said, removing her beanie as if to mourn.

“Wait, Eddie, does this mean we can see the movie now?” Mimi said, noticing I was at the crosswalk, waiting anxiously for the light to change before they caught up to me.

“Hey, where are you going!?” Mimi cried after me as I crossed the street. “HOME!”

“Wait, what do you mean HOME!??? Eddie, you don't have a job; we're all going to die sick, homeless, and fat!”

Rachel's catastrophizing followed me relentlessly, inducing nervous nausea, fear, jittery uncertainty, and an overwhelming, paranoia-fueled urge to react. How could I let someone as pathetic as Rachel affect me so deeply?

Back home, I raced up the five flights of stairs only to find an eviction notice on my door.

“See, I told you.” Rachel said, smugly.

I unlocked the door anyway, thankfully seeing all my stuff still inside, and flopped on the bed. In anguish and helpless frustration, I put on Apple TV. It started playing my sad playlist: plenty of Fiona Apple, Hole, Nirvana, Lana Del Rey, The Cure, The Smiths, and REM. Before I could even begin crying myself to sleep, Cleo stood arms crossed in the doorway, still clad in his party clothes.

“No, you aren’t going to be such a sad sack. Cheer up bitch, we're going to the club.” I sighed, wanting to be happy, to be high so bad, I rolled with his punches. He took me to three clubs, one banging neon adventure after another. We felt like we could do anything: more drugs, more men, more music. After a while we flew too close to the sun, leaving us a long fall. Cleo’s grief was infectious. I was so sad, I forgot how we were ever so happy. As our wallowing hit its peak at a local dive bar, Conrad came along, and Cleo went home in tears. Conrad, with his black trench coat, floppy black hair, and devious smile, took me under his devil's wing to wander around Bushwick, predicting my darkest thoughts. They made so much cold, perfect sense when they slipped through his silver lips. They slithered into my mind until the night went dark. I did things I can't remember, all blended together in one tired dance. If I have friends who want me dead, at least they’re honest about it. What does it matter? The world still goes round. What does it matter when you know you wouldn’t be missed, you’ve never been loved or meaningfully kissed, you’ve never had a happy day to call your own, you feel everything like it’s a line of code in a pre-programmed drone aware of its own artificiality. You can’t remember a childhood, a happy life, or a peaceful mind. You can’t see a future, or a present, or a past, and the world moves too fast.

You never even get your peace in sleep, or in your words. You write suicide notes and cries for help when you long to write memoirs without being too ashamed of your own life to follow through, to write something happy and sad, real and fake, a story that makes people's days better than it would have been, but you'll never publish something with your never-ending downward spin, you'll never have your moment, you'll never win, you'll never grow beyond this painful bottom-feeding routine, never get a day where life doesn't feel like a punishment for being alive, never get a real escape, and the world spins too fast, and you can never get a minute to think. A minute to rest, or think of something better to try, to break free. I think I might need to start over. Maybe the afterlife will have a better deal for a guy like me. Maybe they will have better subways with less construction and better friends who don't ensure your destruction.

I can hardly remember what I did, just that it was the farthest I’ve ever fallen, and Conrad was pleased, telling me over and over I deserved worse than death, and I deserved to bleed, he really liked saying that to me. I saw a rat. It smiled at me. Somehow that made me cry.

Men on the street knew something was wrong because men aren't supposed to cry.

Then I left, and I wish I had said goodbye to who I couldn't tell you. Well, I wish I said goodbye to that rat, he looked like he was going to miss me. I guess he’s the only one, so I didn't feel any conflicted doubts or remorse. I don't think I felt anything at all.

***

As if nothing at all had happened, I woke up. It was my brother, Ralph. He raced over, throwing his arms around me. “Eddie… I’m so glad you’re alive,” he whispered into my shoulder as I put my right arm on his back for a confused pat.

“Why did you do this to yourself, Eddie?” “Do what?” I said, genuinely confused.

“The pills, were you trying to kill yourself?” Always so to the point. I give myself a headache trying to think.

“I… I can’t remember.” I said with total honesty, but I’m sure that would soon change. “Do you… know why you’re here Eds? You overdosed on... Ketamine,” he struggled to say the drug’s name. Later my brother talked to the doctor and decided I should stay in a psych ward for a few days. I had nowhere else to go.

I met with the first doctor after a week of boredom, forced medication, painful self-reflection, and a billion different tests. He sat me down in his office on my last day in the hospital, after my brother had agreed to have me stay with him for a while upon my release. Until I was back on my feet, whenever that happened.

“So, Eddie, do you know why you had to come here?”

“Psych wards are scams. The only reason anyone should be forced into this boring jail is if they try to kill someone else or themselves and might do it again.”

“And you do… fit the latter description.”

“I guess so.”

“But that's not quite what I meant and you knew that, didn't you? Why overall do you think your life choices up until this point have been so unstable? Unstable enough to end up here?”

“Yeah, isn't it clear? It’s my fucking friends; they ruin everything. This time they’ve taken it too far.”

“You don't have any friends. Your brother said you never have.”

“What do you mean? Of course I do! You know, my freaking life-ruining, roommates. Mimi, Conrad, Celo, Rachel, and Mabel, he didn't tell you about them? Well, they’re more like frenemies. Enemies if we're being honest.”

“Your landlord said there was no one else in the apartment, Eddie, you lived alone.”

“No, I-”

“Eddie, do you have any history of mental illness?” Suddenly I couldn't speak; my mind had gone blank.

“No…I don't think so, I'm just a failure. There's no extra reason for that.”

“Eddie, let's take a look at your diagnosis together, shall we? Which one do you want to see first?” I took the papers. Before reading it, I looked around, and for the first time my friends weren't there.

Once again, I was completely alone.

But maybe this time, I wouldn't have to be.

Buddy Devine is the pen name of cartoonist and writer Elijah Singer Brahmi, whose work blends humor, counter-culture sensibility, and heartfelt storytelling. A former staff cartoonist for The Oracle (SUNY New Paltz), Devine has created a wide-ranging portfolio including commissions for album covers, book covers, posters, character design, and YouTube thumbnails — all infused with a unique “Art Crumb–influenced” aesthetic. His debut short story collection, ODDBALLS, explores themes of queer identity, mental health, and finding joy in outsider-ness.

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Humdrum Places - BlogFlock

Week 03—2026 - The Independent Variable

🫀 A Pregnant Woman at Risk of Heart Failure Couldn’t Get Urgent Treatment. She Died Waiting for an Abortion. - The Independent Variable

Now... - The Independent Variable

January 2026 - The Independent Variable

😵‍💫 Yeah, same. - The Independent Variable

🎉 Weekend edition vol.087 - foofaraw

👹 GWAR cover "Pink Pony Club" by Chappell Roan - The Independent Variable

🎙️ Lyss Buchthal - foofaraw

Let’s start with one of life’s big questions… Do you believe in love at first sight?

Have you ever done anything that might be considered “crazy” to meet someone or get their number?

If someone crashed into you to get your number, how do you think you’d react?

If you had to have a statue of an “inoffensive public figure” that you’d have to see every time you walk out your front door, who would you pick?

Do you think Owen and Steven have a long, healthy relationship after this “meet-cute?”

Is this statue rental business a real thing you’ve seen before?

What's a great short story you’ve read recently?

What book are you reading right now?

Do you have anything else you'd like to share or mention?

Thanks to Lyss for the lesson in love and statues!

🤖 Elon Musk’s X Restricts Ability to Create Explicit Images With Grok - The Independent Variable

🗿 Joan’s Stone on Loan - foofaraw

🕹️ Tombs and cheese - foofaraw

🆕 On the Shelves

🟠 Metroid Prime 4: Beyond

Nintendo

🎸 UNBEATABLE

D-Cell Games

😎 Terminator 2D: No Fate

Developer: Bitmap Bureau

Publisher: Reef Entertainment

📡 On the Radar

🛕 Tomb Raider - Legacy of Atlantis

Developer: Crystal Dynamics, Flying Wild Hog

Publisher: Amazon Game Studios

🎮 In Rotation

🤺 Clair Obscur - Expedition 33

Developer: Sandfall Interactive

Publisher: Kepler Interactive

🕵️‍♂️ Unheard - Voices of Crime

Developer: NEXT Studios

Publisher: NEXT Studios, 505 Games

👸 姫ギャルパラダイス メチカワ!アゲ盛り↑センセーション (Hime Girl Paradise Mechikawa! Age mori sensation)

NipponColumbia

🧀 Cheese Rolling

Developer: The Interviewed

Publisher: The Interviewed

😞 I can’t do this - The Independent Variable

🦠 Post-Apocalyptic Procyonid Plague - foofaraw

🎙️ E.J. LeRoy - foofaraw

Do you believe in any conspiracy stories?

What are your thoughts about people who believe the earth is flat or that we never went to the moon?

Have you ever called into a radio show and been on air?

If the aliens in your story ever landed on Earth, how do you think we—the human race—would receive them?

How many planets and moons make up the empire?

What other conspiracy stories do you think Thev’nar and Tiyanok believe in?

What's a great short story you’ve read recently?

What book are you reading right now?

Do you have anything else you'd like to share?

Thanks to E.J. for talking aliens and conspiracies with us!

📻 Moon to Moon FM - foofaraw

🏴‍☠️ The United States has captured Venezuela’s dictator, Nicolás Maduro - The Independent Variable

🎙️ Ben Daggers - foofaraw

How often do you go bowling?

How often does it end in disappointment?

What’s the highest score you’ve ever gotten bowling?

Do you think our protagonist ever ends up winning, or are they doomed to perpetual losing?

What would happen if a fairy was caught cheating and influencing a game as our fairy does here?

Do you think Alette plays fair? Or have they been breaking the rules to turn things in their favor the entire time?

What’s a great short story you’ve read recently?

What book are you reading right now?

Do you have anything else you'd like to share?

Thanks to Ben for helping us start the new year on the right foot!

🎳 Alette in lane six is a self-righteous bitch - foofaraw

📮 January zines - foofaraw

This month...

Stories

Poem

Observations

Interviews

Cover art

👸 姫ギャルパラダイスメチカワ!アゲ盛り↑センセーション (Hime Girl Paradise Mechikawa! Age mori sensation)