Joy Beats Oppression

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In the liminal week between holidays, I’ve been digging through old texts from the last 15 years. Reassessing writing projects that were abandoned for various reasons, trying to decide if there’s any salvage worth revisiting. Reading through these endless word documents, I’ve learned that I’ve spent a good long while pretending to be someone I’m not. By the time Covid happened, I had strayed too far and ever since it’s been an uphill hike along trails of breadcrumbs. Retrieving pieces of self through small joys, inevitable losses, and all the work I should have done on myself long ago.

I didn’t have much hope for the future when this year started, and you know why. I still don’t. But rather than be swallowed by fear and despair, I’ve done my best to learn how to be present in 2025. Relinquish the reins of control and be kinder to myself. Some unexpected delights seemingly resulted from this practice. I’ve been very blessed to reconnect with some special folks that I’d long ago thought were gone from my life. I’ve also met a lot of lovely new people that I hope will stick around for awhile.

2025 has been a year of fated matinees, road trips, hand poked tattoos, wheat paste graffiti, gouache paints, so many mix tapes, blacking out the teeth on John Denver records with sharpie, discovering what it means when puzzle pieces fit together naturally, becoming an oasis after years spent wandering the desert, and endless support & encouragement that sometimes… I still question if I’m truly deserving of. I feel like myself again and managed to have something that might even resemble fun.

There’s several projects and a lot of hustling on the horizon. I’ll put in the work and see where it gets me. The state of the world is… you know. It’ll get worse before it gets better but as I like to say at the bar,  “I’d like to get a little more fucked up before I go.”

Off The Record with Krystle Ratticus: They Say That Dreams Are Growing Wild

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Got invited to record an off the record episode of Textual Healing. I read a short story of mine called “State Line Limbo” and chose the Tom Waits song “Burma Shave” to accompany the selection. Next weekend a full interview with Mallory Smart will be available. You can listen to my public restroom reading (keeping it classy) of “State Line Limbo” here.

Let’s Take a Moment #2

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I was invited to appear on a second episode of Let’s Take a Moment with Billy McCall and Luz Mason. This time we were joined by Missy Kulik of Secret Picnic Spot. The four of us reviewed the split zine Brush Your Teeth With Whiskey/Yard Wide Yarns, a zine I absolutely loved. Ended up being a lot of fun! Check it out on YouTube here.

Zine Review

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Zine review of Make All Our Dreams Come True by Billy McCall over on the Behind the Zines Distro etsy page.

“Krystle’s zines are as raw and real as they come, and this one here is another example an author just laying it all out for the world to see. She bares her soul, she bleeds onto the pages, willing to tell her life story as authentically as anyone can. That’s easy to do when things have gone well, but not so easy when recalling past trauma, of which she has plenty.

This emotional perzine tells about her struggles of moving from Chicago to Milwaukee. Troubles at work, troubles with landlords, and, worst of all, troubles with her husband. All of this happened years ago, but the stories of heartache were real enough to cause me to feel legitimately angry at someone I never met. “He did WHAT!? Man, fuck that guy!” Krystle manages to write about tough times without romanticizing or exaggerating them. A lot of authors almost make it seem fun to be broke, fun to be addicted, fun to be out of work, but Krystle doesn’t do that. She handles every difficult situation with a proud Midwestern determination and somehow manages to keep moving, keep fighting. This is what real life looks like.”

Printer’s Row Lit Fest

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The nice kids at Maudlin House were kind enough to let me tag along at this year’s Printer’s Row Lit Fest. Dmitry made me a sign, I sold some stuff, and met several lovely folks just trying to hustle their writing too. A kind fella named Burton Raabe liked my Weirdo Du Jour zine so much he emailed me this poem he had written about a 24-hour diner in Peoria:

Clark’s Cafe

I found an old matchbook from the 70s.

Clark’s Cafe
“We Never Close”

It was true, there were three shifts per day
all year long, all over town.
If you weren’t workin’
There was sumpin’ wrong.

Some worked 16 hours in two shops.
Workers were paid overtime plus holiday pay.
Unions made sure.

Clark’s was open on Thanksgiving, Christmas,
Easter, all holidays.

They had chili, chicken fried steak,
Burgers, fries, breakfast anytime.
And coffee.

Workers going and coming.
Third shift welders from Kentucky
with soft Appalachian speech.

Blacks from Arkansas
laughing, ordering eggs,
sausage and grits.
And coffee.

Cops at midnight,
off their shift.

Kandy, Brandy, Porsha
(not their real names)
getting eggs and sausage.
Ladies of the night.

We were all ladies and men
of the nights.

No longer selling my items in brick and mortar shops. Finally! I have a secure online store where you can snag copies of my zines, friendly user interface for the online shopaholics. There’s also Behind The Zines Distro, as well.

We Should Close

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“We Should Close”

88-page long, quarter sized zine about working in a record store. Complete with silly good times and tales of weirdo collectors of vinyl. Comes with its own playlist on YouTube or Spotify. Only $3!

It’ll be available soon, and I’m STILL sorting out an online store-front. So if you want a copy right away, shoot me an email. weirdodujour@ proton.me

We’re Gonna Do It!

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“Make All Our Dreams Come True: 3 Years in Milwaukee”

A 2-buck chucklefuck. Written and assembled in under 5 days, this quarter size zine is 40 pages long. A bitter stream-of-consciousness-like rant about the foibles of moving to Milwaukee from Chicago. Highlighting memories of jobs, apartments, and neighborhoods with a slowly imploding marriage in the background. I wrote this in a flashflood of memories that wouldn’t recede in hopes of being able to finally let some stuff go so I could move on.

I’m sorting out an online store-front at the moment so if you’re wanting a copy right away, shoot me an email. weirdodujour@ proton.me