Friday, July 15, 2016


Hey everyone! Sorry for the slow updates, but things have been a good way. Johanna Öst's Phantasmagoria zine sold out in only one week, and I've been busy prepping the next Seventh Church Ministries zine;  Living And Dark Undead! 

Living And Dark Undead is a Tolkien-inspired zine by artists Michelle Dugan and Ellie Gill. Drawing inspiration from The Hobbit, The Lord Of the Rings trilogy and The Silmarillion, Dugan & Gill bring their own unique take to this iconic creatures. Michelle's work evokes a sense of old-school fantasy illustration, dark and brooding, while Ellie's light watercolors have an eerie yet beautiful quality to them.

This zine will be released on the anniversary of the original publication of The Fellowship Of the Ring and will be a two part release. 

FIRST: Living And Dark Undead will be available to purchase online in the Yog-Blogsoth store July 29th 11am EST and will be limited to 75.

SECOND: July 29th 7pm EST, all the artwork from the zine (including gorgeous bonus prints by Dylan Garrett Smith and Oracle Of the Ouroboros Alan Brown) will be on display at The Convent (1648 E. Berks, Philadelphia PA).

 25 zines will be available to purchase in person, as well as older Seventh Church Ministries titles.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016


"There was a tank with a couple of turtles near the window, beside it another, full of newts, and in one corner a large cage of well-tended, brisk white mice. Glass cases, with carefully mounted series of lepidoptera and hymen-optera, showing the metamorphic stages hung on the walls, and on a drawing board there was a daintily executed study of Branchippus, the 'fairy shrimp'."

"It was claimed that Hallowell had, well, divested himself of something, and passed it on to the other boy, with the statement that the latter would only be able to get rid of his cargo when he in turn found a boy who would disbelieve him."

"I stumbled backwards, sending the tank of newts crashing to the floor. Supporting him with my arms, I hung on to him while he heaved, face downwards. At the same time I felt a tickling, sliding sensation in my own ear, and an inordinate desire to follow it with my finger, but both my hands were busy. It wasn't a minute 'till I'd gotten him onto the couch, where he drooped, a little white about the mouth, but with that chastened, purified look of the physically relieved, although he hadn't actually upchucked."

"Between them on the desk, as if one of its mahogany shadows had become animate, something seemed to move—small, seal-colored, and ambiguous."
Hortense Calisher, Heartburn

Wednesday, June 22, 2016


"I don't know how to describe him exactly except that he's very big and fat and he always has on a dark suit like a chauffeur's suit but it isn't really. And his face is lumpy and kind of swollen. And his eyes scare me too. "

 Pelgrim had a glimpse of a fleshy dead-white face, and then an evening paper ascended in front of the waistcoat and head like a protective barrier."

 "The eyes were one color black. They had no depth, no expression. The were simply round disks like the button gimlets of a cod exhibited in the window of a fish store. He looked…he looked like someone George remembered years ago, a bloated body grappling irons had pulled out of the river one cold night onto a police launch deck."

 "His fists pounded into the spongy monstrous hulk, and then a heavy fat hand smacked into the side of his neck making his senses reel."

 "The strange abnormal wetness of those beefy hamlike hands."

 "You've water in you, not blood,' the reporter screamed involuntarily. 'You're not human…'"
Allison V. Harding, The Damp Man

"Lother Remsdorf's veins, for instance were not filled with blood but with some sub-hemolytic fluid not far removed form the substances of jelly fish."

"The average human, scientists know, is made up two-thirds of water. The Damp Man was ninety-five per cent water. His organic functions, as they revealed their secrets one by one to the tests that were applied, were sluggish, slow-functioning machines beyond any conceivable range of normalcy or abnormalcy."

 "This preposterous creature before him, this absurd, macabre, wholly terrifying blob of protoplasmic monstrousness! He watched fascinatedly as a drop of water fell form a pudgy forefinger."

 "Because you arranged for my death! AH! but you, my son are not dead and that is something which must be righted. I created you out of the brine, out of the molecule, and out of the protoplasm. And where other men return to dust, you will return to your medium!"
Allison V. Harding, The Damp Man Returns

 "His vital organs, despite the immense size of him, were compressed and hidden away within the fluid-fat monstrousness of the creature."
 Allison V. Harding, The Damp Man Again


Wednesday, June 8, 2016


THE CACTUS "And then, a short distance away, I seemed to see a kind of fog, an overhanging mist. I thought it was an optical illusion-because whoever heard of a fog in the desert?-but, since it wasn't far away, I walked over to it. And as I approached it I smelled the sweetest, sourest, muskiest odor I've ever known. Suddenly the ground dipped and I was looking at a strange and lovely thing. Do you remember that meteor crater in Arizona? What I saw there was the same thing, much smaller of course. It was a scoop in the earth, like a great dimple, and it was filled with cactus growths, marvelous, unearthly, beautiful-eight, nine, ten feet tall-gray-green giants stretching their twisted arms to the sky. There were hundreds of them already blooming with dark read flowers. It was the latter that gave off the strange, sweet smell."
"Its shape was somewhat comical: with the fat, spinous stem and the two little horns sprouting from the top, it resembled a rampant tomato caterpillar."
"Leaning over and tentatively feeling the two parallel spikes at the head of the plant, she added, 'Not that it couldn't bore a hole right through if it wanted to with these things. They're like daggers.'"
"It blossomed early in June with flowers of a peculiar liverish color. Though she never would have admitted it publicly, Edith thought them unattractive, almost repellent. They were almost like sores, she thought."
"Got horns and everything. Looks like a sick goat with boils."
"She smiled at her fancy, but was surprised to hear from Abby that Robert Burden had the same idea, although he was carrying it to ridiculous extremes, averring, for instance, that he had caught a glimpse of the cactus floating in its own emanations like a jellyfish in an ocean current."
"Cruciform in shape, its upraised 'arms' were terminated in spiked nodules, like taloned fingers' the forward-sweeping horns were truly formidable; and with withered flowers at the 'head' were arranged to suggest an evil face, a demonic, leering, loathsome face. "

Mildred Johnson, The Cactus

Friday, May 20, 2016


Hey folks, just a quick update and some cool news. 

First off, I know monster posts have been a bit slow this year but I've been inundated with commissions (cool problem). However, I'm consciously taking less the second half of the year so I can focus on the final 11 HPL gods left in this project. 

On the monster note, Scott Nicolay and I are gearing up for a third installment of Stories From the Borderland and the tales he picked for this round f*cking bonkers! These are, by far, the weirdest stories and creatures I've read. We were also privileged enough to have Weird Fiction Review online repost our SFTBL focusing on Margaret St.Clair

I've also been working hard on 2 pieces for a split gallery show called Growth//Decay. It's a collaboration between Antler Gallery in Portland OR and Paradigm Gallery here in Philly. Each gallery picked artists from their city, then each artist was tasked with making a piece based on the concept of growth and one on the concept of decay. All the growth pieces will be displayed at Paradigm (June 24th) and all the decay pieces at Antler (June 30th). Other artists in the show include these uber-talented nerds plus many more: Paul Romano, Caitlin McCormack, Alex Eckman-Lawn, Jeanne D'Angelo & Jeremy Hush.

For my growth piece I was inspired by William Hope Hodgson's The Voice In the Night, and for my decay piece I chose Arthur Machen's The Novel Of the White Powder. So, get ready for some gloop and some spores!

Lastly, I was interviewed by the show Articulate With Jim Cotter back in November for a segment on H.P. Lovecraft and this yog-blogsoth/illusto obscurum project specifically. Well, it finally aired last night! You can check it out on their site. The HPL segment starts at the 6 minute mark. 

Michael Sakamoto, H.P. Lovecraft, Brandon Ballengee, George Fu - See more at:

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


"It didn't feel like a dog's back. It was the right distance from the floor, but it was slippery, and there wasn't any hair on it. My hand kept moving, but right off I knew that, whatever I was petting, it wasn't any dog. I had the idea that if I pressed my hand down I could push my fingers right into it."
"It was a slimy sort of stuff, transparent-looking, without any shape to it. It looked as though if you picked it up it would drip right through your fingers. And it was alive-I don't know how I knew that, but I was sure of it even before I looked. It was alive, and a sort of shapeless arm of it lay across the dog's back and covered her head. She didn't move."
"I hit at the thing with a poker, and quick as thought the whole mess started sliding across the floor, stretching out as worms do, oozing under the crack beneath the door that leads onto the porch."
"And a few weeks later I saw the dog that looked like Nan, Doctor Kurt. It was Nan, yet it wasn't."
"Two days ago that Peterson kid disappeared, and he hasn't com back. And what's more, he'll never come back! He's part of that thing that began in my walls, with the rats."
"And it seemed to me that, for a second, I saw something slipping down the window-pane something that clung to the window pane like a colorless jelly, almost like a wave of watery foam, almost like a nothingness that moved heavily down the window-pane and disappeared below the sill."
"And I saw that the thing was slowly giving up pretense of human shape. The face was changing-the hands and arms and the contours of the body were dissolving. And in the last second before it melted into shapeless slime, from that vanishing mouth came Bertha Brandt's voice, crying "I didn't do it, Doctor Kurt!"
"It reared erect as a fountain might gush up. It put forth arms, developed breasts, overspread itself with color. In the time that it might take to draw a long breath the thing had vanished and a something that we knew to be that same ghastly entity, but that looked as Hilda had looked in life, stood naked there amid the jumbled clothes."
Thorp McClusky, The Crawling Horror

Read Scott's blog post about this story here.