“Gene,” Geezer writes, “emerges from the Recovery Ward with his head full of hate and his mind full of Prozac. Attempting to self-mediate himself back to ‘normalcy’ he injests 6 amphetamine pills, a tab of acid and six rum and Coke highballs. ‘Feeling better, feelin fucked’ he starts singing in a girlish falsetto voice. I can’t stand the noise and turn up the telebision.” That’s it. That’s all I’m gonna give ya. I can’t do justice to it. I don’t know what to say. It has overcome me. All that radiation. All that smoke. My eyes are watering, my teeth are melting, my nose is dripping the goo of a thousand Geezer-rants, the goo shellacks my chest and leaves my body trapped like the insensible animal that it is. “Giant-Sized Late Summer Extravaganza!! More Pages!! More Garbled Philosophy!! and even more Girlie Photos!!” I just want to keep writing about this thing. I just want to tell you everything and nothing the way that Geezer does. I’ve got to get out of the house. I’ve got to watch out for the factory. And you? Who gives a fuck about you? Geezer in the factory. Geezer scratching names in the ground zero concrete of a disposable eternity. What are you? Crazy? “I’ve been fucking with the Laws of Science,” Geezer explains, “And I’ve been sleeping in a graveyard.” I’m going to ask you to get the back issues. Send an envelope big enough to contain your life.
zine / main creator: Sam Geezer / free / 82 Primrose Crescent, Brampton, ON, L6Z 1E3