The cult section of the literary world


Flash Fiction Friday: Mutagon II (Excerpt)

by Jamie Grefe

Ned is at the Chevy-Levy coffee house, hidden among those night alleys, between chicken-on-a-stick standing bars, shady karaoke joints, porn shops, and used vinyl bins. He likes it here. Other than the desert, here a man can still think.

Grime on the tabletop, white dust. The smell of roast beans. He tucks himself into a table by the window, slams three of the best espressos in Troilus and scans the room for his contact. He’s waiting for The Shingle, one of Floyd’s top admin goons, to show up and waste more of his time. He runs a fingertip across the rim of the leftmost cup.

Vinyl clicks, blurts sheets of guitar fuzz, coats the dive in a wet rumble. Xu Fan, the man with a television for every freak to get their rocks off on; he mime-points a remote at the sky. “Power off,” Ned says. “Lay it down, lay it down,” he sings, not noticing the vintage set in the corner of the coffee shop, the one broadcasting an unmoving shot of a single palm tree on a stormy morning, just swaying there, before it cuts to—bugs breeding, writhing, chewing skin.

Three men argue in a foreign tongue from a corner table. A guy they call Brown throws a busted Operation board game to the ground. His arms flail like a chicken mime. The board game’s innards clack, click and the fool pulls at his own hair, howls, too lit up on crack or smack or windowpane to care.

“Hi, Suzie, how’s the water?” someone says in a warbled voice, too slow. A tattooed woman in a nurse’s uniform waters tulips outside the joint, smock covered in checkered streaks like lines of spattered grace. She grins like a vampire, curtsies in front of the window. Ned looks away, folds his hands in prayer, closes his eyes.

One second later, those eyes blink. The Shingle sits across from him: portly pig of a man, ratty goatee down to his gut, bad suit and tie with a scar running from cheek to hairline as if a leech smacked his face and never left. He places a manila envelope on the table, pushes it toward the three empty espresso cups.

“Days like this are meant for hosing. Don’t you think so, Houston?” he says. “Ever hosed on the DarkGil dime?”

“I keep myself occupied,” Ned says, opening the envelope, sliding out a black and white glossy of Xu Fan bending to get in a limousine. Pose, frozen, quiet. Ned studies, digests the image. Got it. From the photograph, Xu Fan looks old, wispy mustache old: chin wrinkles, a debonair elder shot stiff in the frame of some secret paparazzi flare. Ned lets a slip of paper drop from the envelope.

The Shingle’s finger stabs it, says: “Johnny H. on the line, compadre.”

Ned deadpans The Shingle, trying not to disappear in that pigface visage. The Shingle holds out a ball pen. Ned thumbs it from him like magic, twirls and lets it hit the dotted line. He doesn’t sign.

“Understand these new terms, yes?” The Shingle says. “Updated and unabated.”

“What new terms?” Ned says, scanning fine print, ignoring the howls of a man across the room with a chunk of Troilus lodged in his gut. “Wasn’t told about no new terms.”

The Shingle leans back, meaty hands spider to his lapels, push open his suit coat. A katana, black handled grip, juts out his side—evil music swells. “This,” he says, stroking the hilt, “is my cute Japanese girlfriend. I keep her here for when things go,” he chuckles, says this with the most annoying clarity, “awry.”


“I got her from Mr. Floyd. Kind of a company perk.” He’s stroking her now, flicks his tongue. “She wrangles folks. Prevents them from not fulfilling an operation or having second thoughts like not finishing an operation or cutting short an operation. She’s a sucker for operations.”

“Second thoughts—?”

“Floyd advised me to introduce my girl when one’s operation is of the utmost, and I mean the utmost, importance to DarkGil interests. You understand, a man of the proverbial cloth, ever faithful to the kill, ever fulfilling of employment obligations, as you are, Ned Houston.”

Ned keeps eyes locked on The Shingle, scribbles a squiggly on the dotted line, sets the pen on the table. “Here,” he says, “are your new terms.” But, at that moment, a city breeze—or a potent nostril gust from Ned—whisks the paper to the floor, just inches from The Shingle’s stupid loafers. “Pardon me,” Ned says. “Drafty in here, isn’t it?” A tiny plastic heart from the board game skitters under the table, vanishes.

“Should stick you just for making me bend—” and The Shingle, reaching down, grunts for the signature, has no time to react. Ned fistfuls his hair, shoves face to tabletop, pinning him there, pressing hard, forearm to the side of his head. With his other hand, Ned jams an empty espresso cup into The Shingle’s eye, pulls up on the eyelid, so the dirty cup mashes soft pulp. He pushes. No one in the joint notices, but someone is singing a lullaby in Dutch, something about unrequited love, perhaps.

Ned: “Try and scream, pig. I’ll turn your eye into French drip.” Silence. The Shingle wheezes, chokes. “If I catch you flashing your girlfriend in front of me again—indecent exposure—I’m going to make sure she spends the rest of her pathetic life on a journey from your ass to the tip of your tongue, then we’ll all be mute, licking steam.”

The Shingle writhes his pig-body, but Ned has him in a bind, is bent so close to him each whispered word sounds like a death scream: “It’s been quite a ride. With stains like you going around intimidating DarkGil talent, the company is sure to stink a fart to Friday. And, yes, I’m gone, sucker. Unabated.”

Bam—Ned shoves The Shingle, rises from the table. Snatch envelope, snatch photo, and head for the exit.


Jamie Grefe is the author of THE MONDO VIXEN MASSACRE (Eraserhead Press, 2013). His second novella, MUTAGON II, is forthcoming from Holy Mountain Outreach, an imprint of Dynatox Ministries. Grefe’s short fiction appears in New Dead Families, elimae, and other fine places. Find him at:

Twisted Tuesdays: Bizarro News Roundup, April Fools’ Edition!

butt stabbing


What’s fake and what’s real? Does it even make a difference? Here’s the latest weird news, hot off the internet!

  • NETFLIX unveils awesome “Cage Mode” films!


  • Darth Vader is running for president of the Ukraine!

glow trees

Speaking of Florida



  • The spaghetti harvest goes forward in Switzerland!

Happy April Fools’ Day, Bizarros! Do you have a favorite prank or hoax?

This is definitely a classic:

The Tea House: On Organization and Planning: Guest Post by S. T. Cartledge

Today’s Tea House post is brought to you by a good old fashioned Irish Breakfast tea. It’s nothing fancy, it’s just a good, reliable tea. It’s a great way to start the morning.

I recently moved house, and there’s been a period of about a week where I’ve been moving things from one house to another, and I’ve only just now had the time to set my computer back up and resume my daily writing habits.

I’ll admit, my previous habits have been pretty poor. I’ll admit I don’t have a fantastic track record. Even while I’ve been writing every day, the amount of projects which I’ve finished compared to the amount of projects which I’ve started is a sad number.

But don’t be sad for me. I’m happy. I’m excited. I’ve had a hectic week off from writing, and I’m back and I’m writing a new advice column and I don’t care if people think advice columns are best left to the professionals.

I’d like to dwell on a few pieces of advice I hear all the time, how they work for me, and how they relate to progress and becoming a better writer.

The first piece of advice is: Write every day. Chuck Palahniuk does it. Stephen King writes a certain amount of pages before breakfast. My goal is to write an average of 1,000 words a day. Aside from situations like moving house and taking holidays and having a short break after finishing a major project, I should be writing every day. Always pushing towards that 1,000 word a day average.

If I can manage 7,000 words a week, that’s great. If I can do 30,000 words a month, that’s awesome. 365,000 words in a year would be fantastic. These are the incremental goals I’m shooting for. Sometimes it means 500 words a day before work. Sometimes it means 1,500 words on a Saturday. Sometimes it means 2,000 words and up on a day off.

The thing that’s been working for me is that I’ve been taking the “write every day” challenge and molding it around my day-to-day life, finding out the most feasible way to obtain my goals, and when I reach them, making them a little bigger.

In January I was trying to get used to things, so I wrote about 25,000 words that month. February was a little more. About 66 days into the year I had written and documented over 60,000 words of new writing.

I’ve given myself a lot of freedom with what I count as writing. It’s anything I type down which could potentially be published some time in the future in print or online. This includes novels, novellas, short stories, poems – the standard fictions – but also non-fiction articles and reviews, things like this. Even drafts of stories so horrible they will probably never amount to anything, they still become part of the writing process, therefore they’re a learning experience. Count it.

The next piece of advice is: Take notes. Some people carry notebooks all the time or pieces of paper or note pads which can fit in their pockets or wallets which they can write down anything that springs to their mind at any point in time. I love that. I’m not that organised. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and scribble down a handful of random words on a piece of rubbish, and then months later I’d find it and it would still vaguely make sense. But I never used to have much at my disposal for note taking when I was at work or just out of the house.

One little device has made this issue infinitely easier. The smartphone. Any ideas I have, I can not only jot it down, but I can refer to it at any time and I have the space to flesh it out. And it’s not like the good old days where my scrap paper notes would just lie around doing nothing. When I return home and sit at my computer, depending on what I feel like writing, I can either continue with something which I’ve been fleshing out already, or I can crack open a fresh stack of notes and begin creating something new.

Or, even, sometimes my notes are about my most recent works in progress, so they help me to get straight into it when I sit down. The more notes you take, and the better you organize your time, the more productive your writing time will be. It becomes easier to hit my targets earlier on in the day, to see projects through to the end, and to move on to other things.

I’ve also been keeping track of things at home in my diary. I got a 2014 diary specifically to track my writing and plan my days and weeks and months so I can write every day and track my progress throughout the year, so I can plan time to write and time for other things. To keep it managed and track progress on specific projects as they pick up or drop off.

The last piece of advice I have is one which I follow religiously: Do what works best for you. I write as much as I can in order to improve my writing skills. I take notes so that I always have something to write about whenever I sit down to write. I only think about editing and revising once the first draft is done. Editing mid-draft used to be the thing which held me back and now it’s a non-issue.

Leaving projects a few thousand words in used to be a problem, but now it’s just a matter of pushing through until I find something which works. I may not finish a novella or short story all that often, but I’ve done more on that front in the first few months of this year than I did throughout all of last year. Writing more articles and reviews has also helped break the monotony of constantly trying to churn out the next masterpiece. It’s the small successes which keep the momentum going. It’s knowing that all the unfinished works and falling short of my goals and not having a market for my work aren’t failures. They’re experiments, testing what can and can’t be done, what should or shouldn’t.

Some people spend years on one thing. Some people seem to be constantly pumping out books. Some people can plan and plan and plan and then write everything in three days. With the right amount of planning, note taking, and with at least a little bit of writing every day (no matter what it is) you can make a lifestyle of your writing. Even if you’re like me, trying to find out what your next big step will be, knowing your own habits and working towards improving them is the hardest part. Once you’ve got that figured out, you’re all set.

What works best for you? Is there anything here you really agree with or disagree with? Do you have a set schedule, or do you like to try new things all the time? Are there any specific organisation and planning tips you have found useful?
S.T. Cartledge is the author of the 2012 New Bizarro Author Series book, House Hunter. In 2013, he graduated from Curtin University with a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing (first class honours). He loves bizarro, manga, anime, robots, dragons, wizards, heroes, monsters, dinosaurs, and any combination/mutation of these things.

Dilation Exercise 99

Below you’ll find Alan M. Clark’s weekly Dilation Exercise. Please look at the picture, read the caption, above and below the image, and allow your imagination to go to work on it. If the artwork inspires an idea, please use the comment feature to tell us something about it. Need a further explanation? Go to Imagination Workout—The Dilation Exercises.

As hard as it was, getting the barbed wire out of her was the easy part.

If she survived the first round of surgery, and the surgeons found a way to remove the greedy ranchers, the stubborn cowboys, and the hired guns that kept the range war going, there would still be herds of cattle to deal with and all those strays to round up.

—Alan M. Clark
Eugene, Oregon

If you like Alan M. Clark’s artwork, please try his writing in both short fiction and novels.

Artwork: “Study for ‘Hemogoblins’” copyright © 2000 Alan M. Clark. Unpublished.

Show Me Your Shelves: CV Hunt and Andersen Prunty

You want to talk about talented duos? It doesn’t get better than these two. Seriously. Andersen Prunty is one of my favorite authors, an editor/publisher whose taste I agree with and whose work ethic I admire, and a man I got to “study” for an author spotlight I wrote for The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction. CV Hunt is ridiculously talented, keeps surprising me with each new book (seriously Other People’s Shit was crazy and funny in ways I didn’t know she could pull off), and has delivered three outstanding books in less than a year. Almost as important as all that is the fact that they’re both Book People, my kind of people. Who wouldn’t want a peek at their shelves?
Who are you and what role do books play in your life?  

CV: My name is C.V. Hunt and sometimes I write stories. I’ve always been an avid reader and never imagined I would be writing someday. I like to think all those books I read were research for finding my voice when I finally sat down to write. I still read every day, but I find myself engrossed in more than just the writing now. Certain things like the layout, the publisher, and the cover design now have my attention. Before I starting writing I read books solely based on the back cover description.

AP: My name is Andersen Prunty. Books take up at least 38-41 percent of my life. That fluctuates periodically. Sometimes it’s as much as 62-71 percent. I write books sometimes. I edit other writers’ and my own books. I publish other writers’ and my own books. I’ve worked in bookstores for about five of my twenty working years. At my current day job, I listen to a lot of audio books. I don’t watch a lot of TV, don’t even have cable, and books fill the void this cultural anomaly inevitably creates.

What are some of your favorites? Are there any books you both love? Are there any books you guys ended up with two copies of after moving in together?  

CV: My favorite books are always changing. Right now I’d say my favorites are Tampa, American Psycho, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and Invisible Monsters. I think Andersen and I both agree that American Psycho is a great book. A lot of times we try to read the same book within days of each other so we can discuss it. We did end up with a few doubles, but some of the doubles were books Andersen had bought and didn’t think he already owned. I’ve started a shelf on Goodreads of everything we own so we can consult it when we raid a book store.

(The shelf is amazing. You can check it out here.)

AP: We both had copies of American Psycho and Fight Club. Carrie had the ridiculous movie tie-in version of American Psycho so we donated it. But her copy of Fight Club was a first edition so it was way better than mine. Recently, I think we’ve both really liked Mike Kleine’s Mastodon Farm (full disclosure: I published this through Atlatl) and Alissa Nutting’s Tampa. Also, when we first met I remember talking about how much we both liked Bentley Little’s The Association. I have many many favorite books. Too many to name, probably. And I hardly ever re-read things. Some of the books that I have gone back to or could see myself going back to in the future are:

When folks have a few dozen books, space/cleaning/moving are not problems. When you have shelves upon shelves upon shelves, things change. How was your recent move and how much of a pain was it to move all those books? 

CV: I think we ended up with sixty boxes of books that had to be moved. Andersen was in charge of alphabetizing them once we were in the new place.

AP: We moved from a one-bedroom, 500 square-foot apartment to a house that is much larger so space isn’t really a problem. One room is just completely empty so we’ll probably eventually put books in there. Or maybe a meth lab, depending on the economy.
The move was challenging. My brother and I tried transporting the boxes of books to the lobby of the building via handtruck and somehow broke the elevator in the process. It subsequently involved a frantic call to the building manager where I informed her that if I had to carry 50 boxes of books down six flights of stairs I would probably die and she would have that on her hands. Miraculously, the elevator started working and we felt victorious.

Sharing a space with a writer for a prolonged period of time can lead to insanity and, in many cases, bloodshed. How do you two manage to deal with the pressures than come from writing, publishing, editing, plugging, etc.? 

CV: I actually find it to be less stressful. He’s the most supportive person in my life and he understands the time constraints when you work a day job. We usually set aside an hour or two in the evenings to work on our own projects. We’re both considerate and try to not be a distraction to other if one of us is obsessed with finishing something or getting to a good stopping point.

AP: Weekly shaming.

What can you tell us about your latest book? Why should we go get it yesterday?

CV: I recently self-published a novelette titled Baby Hater. If you’re really into reading a story about a woman who punches babies in the face then you should check it out.

AP: Sociopaths in Love. People seem to love it or hate it. One guy on Goodreads recommended it to sadists and filed it on one of his shelves labeled “absolute trash.” I feel really good about that!

You’re both prolific, so I’ll throw in one more question: What’s next? 

CV: I’m bouncing back and forth between two projects at the moment. I’m compiling a short story collection and writing a book. I’m an organic writer so I’m usually secretive about writing projects because I’m afraid I’ll jinx the story somehow. I don’t even let Andersen read anything until I’m 100% done and it’s ready for the final edit. The working title of the book is Hell’s Waiting Room and I still haven’t come up with a title for the short story collection.


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Flash Fiction Friday: Were God a Better God

by Amanda Billings

The paper hat opened its tiny paper eyes and grimaced. It had never had eyes before, and through the magic of divine intervention it now shrank back from the throbbing pain of fluorescent lights forcing its paper pupils to constrict for the first time. It had no arms and legs but found it could wiggle its two bottom corners awkwardly and scoot through the layer of dust upon which it rested. Its eyes had not fully adjusted yet but the paper hat now knew it had a nose, and if it had a knowledge of such things, it would have immediately recognized the scent of a woman’s public restroom. Squinting its eyes open the hat saw that it was up high, sitting on a ledge of some kind in an orange tiled desert. Several feet in front of it was the stinking white oasis, and to its left, the swinging aqua-colored cage door of the stall. The while oasis, which was the toilet, was the most beautiful thing the hat had ever seen in its short existence. It immediately fell in love, and felt thankful that it was privileged enough to gaze upon the toilet’s gleaming curves.

In the night, God had answered the prayers of a sick little girl in the hospital, desperately wishing her stuffed puppy Barker would come to life and comfort her in what were to be her final hours. Were the child more practical, she may have wished to be cured of her disease; were God a better God, he may have had better aim. In any case, God’s force had struck a paper hat that had been perched precariously on top of the tampon dispenser in the handicapped stall of the ER’s women’s room, the restroom that worried mothers and sobbing still-drunk girlfriends used while waiting for updates on loved ones. The hat had been made by a different little girl who was tearing apart waiting room magazines and practicing origami while her mother worried how much her little Billy’s broken arm would cost them. The girl had worn it into the bathroom and the hat had fallen to the floor, a sticky floor the mother could easily imagine being covered with AIDS spores, and the mother had placed the hat out of reach while the girl shrieked and peed a little in her underwear.

It was about four in the morning on a Tuesday when the hat had come to life, a slow time for the handicapped stall. In the absence of company the hat was free to develop a rudimentary understanding of physics, experiment with dust-trail artwork, and even begin a theory of creation and meaning in its smelly, stuffy universe. The hat had a general sense of waking up when it came to life, and as nothing around it seemed to move or blink about in the way that it did, the hat figured it simply needed to wait for its beloved toilet to wake up and help the hat understand why it was here.

Around five-thirty a.m. the hat could hear heavy thuds approaching, and jumped back when it heard the bathroom door creak open and the labored breathing of another creature enter the universe. The thumps came slowly in threes, shaking the tampon dispenser with growing ferocity as they approached. The tremors paused as the woman, leaning forward on her cane, reached out and pulled the handicapped stall door open. The hat recoiled. The woman was obese and elderly with dark circles under her eyes and bits of someone else’s vomit dried to the front of her leopard-print tent-top, almost blending in with the pattern if it weren’t for the telltale smell. The hat stifled a sob as the woman slid down her elastic-waist pants and lowered herself carefully onto the toilet, the toilet which the hat had lovingly traced portraits of in the dust on top of the tampon dispenser while imaging that someday they would be partners together in exploring this universe if only the toilet would open its eyes. The woman emptied her bowels into the toilet’s open mouth and delicate paper tears slid down the hat’s face. As the woman attempted to clean herself properly with one arm clutching the metal safety railing and the other straining to reach her nether regions, the hat understood that the world was a cruel and horrifying place and that it was being punished for some unknown transgression it had committed in the 90-minute span of its conscious life.

As the hat teetered toward the edge of the tampon machine in an attempt to commit suicide, it managed to catch the eye of the elderly women who decided between grunt-wipes that it might be a fun plaything for her grandson out in the lobby. After an unsuccessful flush which was left to clog and settle, the woman limped forward with unwashed hands outstretched, catching the hat just as it began its fruitless drift toward death on the orange floor. “Gotcha,” the woman said softly, oblivious to the hat’s miraculous sentience, unable to hear the hat’s paper screams because God had also forgotten to give the hat a mouth. The elderly woman pinched the edges of the hat so tightly that all the hat could hope for was the relief that might come with passing out if little paper hats brought to life could pass out. Which, the hat learned, they could not.


Amanda Billings, author of 8-BIT APOCALYPSE, is a writer, cosplayer, and TurboGrafx enthusiast from Fort Collins, CO. You can check out her comic series ARE WE SIBLINGS OR CAN WE FUCK at

Twisted Tuesdays: Nightmare hunting with M dot Strange!


In a town that never changes, children must work and adults get to play. But something is really off about this place called “Lantern Town”…first of all, there are only five children in the whole town and their job is to go out every night to look for monsters. The grownups are pretty creepy with painted on smiles who agree with everything they are told by their sleazy mayor. They drink all day and hang out at the “Lantern House” where shady decadent shit goes down.

Sequence 08.Still004

Things literally run like clockwork until a strange man comes into town and changes everything. Nightmares are unleashed and the children are forced to face their fears which includes M dot’s signature chaos battles with crazy monsters and epic bosses.

Sequence 08.Still002

Ever since I came across a copy of We Are The Strange several years back, I’ve been a big fan of M dot Strange’s work. His animation is not only trippy and unique but he’s 100% independent, making 3 full-length feature animations by himself!

Typically, I’m a total pirate and torrent the shit out of movies, TV shows, and music, but when I see an independent artist making something I really enjoy that blows my tits off, I support them if/when I have the money. Thankfully, I had just gotten paid as soon as I am Nightmare Deluxe Edition was officially released so I was able to buy it and watch it immediately. I had been following M dot’s creative process through his twitter and was really looking forward to seeing the finished product. I am Nightmare did not disappoint. It was great to see how much M dot Strange’s animation has progressed since his first movie, focusing more on story and characters than his previous films, and further developing his computer animation skills with the hours upon hours of practice he’s had.

M dot was nice enough to answer some questions about being a totally independent animator, as well as his inspiration and his nightmares!

M dot Strange by iniZny

1) There is a reoccurring theme in all of your movies with dolls and the underdog having to battle this giant video game-like boss. Is this theme influenced by you being a completely independent filmmaker battling the big boss of the entertainment industry?

Doing what I do the way I do it, I guess I do feel like I’m this tiny speck competing with and going up against this giant scary machine, so that tends to show up in my stuff. Also observing the giant machine that is the status quo pulverizing people day after day can’t help but seem like the biggest most terrifying monster looming over us all everyday- it’s the ultimate bad guy-

2) What inspired I am Nightmare and your other films?

I am Nightmare was really inspired by me having grown up as a kid who thought he knew better with his life choices but was constantly told by people older/richer/more experienced than me that the world was a certain way and that’s how it would always be and that I was foolish to try and do something outside of its rules- to me “reality” is a nightmare here in the United States- what started out as the “American Dream” is now a nightmare that helps terrorize the whole world- meanwhile most people here just go about their lives like everything is great- to some people its a dream-to most its a nightmare- it was also inspired by the Nietzsche book “Antichrist“- what I got from that book was that in order to be a true artist or someone that causes change you have to become what the status quo would call the Antichrist- or a nightmare to their dream as I used it- my other films were inspired by small real life events that I spun into strange fantasy scenarios- We Are the Strange was inspired by a cat crying in a warehouse I walked by at night once- Heart String Marionette was inspired by a dream I had about inanimate objects coming to life as I walked by them.


3) Why did you decide to go gonzo and make your movies independently instead of selling your soul and becoming a slave to some big studio?

I do this because I love doing it- I’ve never done it because I wanted to be rich or famous- its just the most interesting thing I’ve found to do with my time and life- I’m trying to make the best stuff I can with integrity- I had my chances to “go Hollywood” but the people I was meeting with from that industry- I found them mostly to be classless, talentless buffoons who only got their positions of power because of who they knew or who they were related too- that’s bullshit- if I don’t like people, or I think they’re frauds, I can’t/don’t pretend, I just walk away. And the people in the power positions in Hollywood seem like a bunch of frauds to me who only care about making money.

4) How do you fund your films?

There’s not much to fund- since I do everything- funding my films involves keeping me alive, having a place to live + utilities, food to eat and computers to use- and I do that by any means necessary- sales of my various wares- freelance jobs- charity from my family/friends- living cheap- the only non life expense for I am Nightmare was the $1500 I spent paying voice actors and I raised that money through donations- so the budget on I am Nightmare was $1500- this past year and a half I put all the money in Bitcoin and other crypto-currencies I hope that continues to grow than I could use that to fund my stuff- this past week I’ve been selling computer parts on ebay for money.

5) You made a promise to yourself and your fans that you would make I am Nightmare in a year and would subsequently make a movie a year from now on. It takes a major studio company several years to complete an animated movie. Why did you decide to do that to yourself?

I realized that even though its a lot of work for me to make one or two or three films- in the big picture that’s nothing to a film fan- I realized I need to have 7-10 feature films out there to get peoples attention- to really get things going for my film career- With I am Nightmare I wanted to see if it was possible and I did it so one a year seemed like a good way to make sure I get a lot of my work out there- but I’m already going back on my word as I am Nightmare hasn’t sold as many copies as I thought so I can’t live off of it for very long at all and I can’t bank on my next film doing that either so in 2014 I’m focusing on starting my own online film school and making and selling video games- once I have that stuff going and making steady money than I can fuck around for another year on a movie- I’m hoping I’ll be able to do another movie in 2015 though- its technically possible for me to make a new movie every year + games + music + a lot of other things IF I have to funding so its my goal to secure that first.

6) You mentioned in your youtube video that you also want to work on video games as well. You also make music and are known to put out an entire album while working on making a movie. How do you manage to do all that? What projects are you working on right now?

Yeah before I was a failed filmmaker I was a failed musician now I hope to be a failed game designer haha- I love music and films and I’ve always loved a good game- I started with music the same time I started doing films and they just grew with each other as audio/music skills really help film production- now with the video game thing- I always thought the tools were too difficult because I’m not a programmer but in the past three weeks I’ve been teaching myself game design making two joke games already “Dicks will fall on your head‘ and “Robots are dicks” my mind kind of exploded as I got these basic game making skills- I’ve got about 12 different games ideas and I’m working on one now- so this year its all about video games for me but I’ll probably kick out one or two music albums as well as if I don’t make music for too lang I go kinda crazy but yeah I’d like to take the worlds/experiences/emotions I create in my films and make them playable experiences for people as games- I’m really excited by the possibilities now I just need to learn the tools-

7) What is your ultimate nightmare?

Since I’m a control probably have something to do with slavery- not having my own free will to do what I want- or being a little kid and having some stupid religious fanatic parent running my life…

You can watch the first 15 minutes of I am Nightmare here:

If you like what you see, I highly recommend purchasing the full movie and M dot’s other movies to help fund his future projects. He is the only person I know of who has managed to create 3 animated features on his own and has 0 interest in selling out to Hollywood! A typical animated feature takes hundreds of people and millions of dollars! M dot Strange is proof that complete artistic freedom and independence is not only possible and a better choice, but based on the shit that major entertainment corporations are shelling out, supporting independent artists is necessary if you want art that will wake you up and inspire you instead of enslave your mind.


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