The cult section of the literary world

Posts tagged “Chris Kelso

Excerpt: ‘The Church of Latter Day Eugenics’ by Chris Kelso and Tom Bradley (illustrated by Nick Paterson).

Coming soon from Bizarro Pulp Press is THE CHURCH OF LATTER DAY EUGENICS, written by Chris Kelso and Tom Bradley with illustrations by Nick Paterson. It’s weird, it’s literary, and according to John Skipp, “Kelso and Bradley make it rain, sluicing bodily fluids and god down the drain


A Blue Egyptian goddess. I hear the pulsing of her labia. I see her silhouette. A dense vapour of red smog swirls around us both, fingers the air, forks and laps at the flesh, fills the surrounding atmosphere with transfused gender plasma. I feel something like grill bars beneath my feet, baking my heels like two big slabs of smoked sausage. Through the cloud of crimson I see her true form–at least what I presume to be. Her legs are spread like the Thames, revealing the violet petals of her full, budding vulva. I can’t believe I’m standing before the Big Girl herself. I feel as though I could slip through the open wire grid at any time–but there she is.

“Hello,” I utter in awe. “Permit me to introdu–”

“Empy-ton. Your name is Empty-ton.”

“If you say so, ma’am.”

Her voice emerges like a choir of military wives. Must be the Blue Lotus talking.

“Are you here to feed me, or to be fed to me?”

Quite a question, that. Enough to make the initial rush of the sky-colored herb sort of level out and bring me to cruising altitude. As this creature lies back awaiting her answer, I can feel me going from a more or less chaotic oscillation to what feels like my proper innate vibe.

It resembles one of those moments of extreme clarity, surpassing any induced by psychedelic or amphetamine, that sometimes come in the earliest stages of a catastrophic drunken binge, when you’re lying flat on your back in the piss and puke at the foot of the stage in a live-music pub, staring straight up into the cosmos. The lead guitar’s neck is protruding like a dick in a fist between your peepers and the ceiling full of strobes and kinky-colored stage lights. The Pete Townsend-wannabe slams all his meager weight behind a power chord, which he lets resound for a few eternities. The strings wobble and writhe chaotically in a chaos of backlit, or toplit, squiggles, but gradually resolve, along with their sound, after the principal attack, to six perfect arrays of crests and troughs, textbook wave forms, as they achieve their resonant frequencies.

“I’ll ask again. Are you here to feed or be fed?”

I use the old journalistic trick of feigning complete, instead of just partial, ignorance. “That depends on who–”

“I am She.”

Just as that guitar chord, so does this She resolve. She, with an upper-case Ess, slowly morphing into the literal Blue Lotus, the vegetative form, the botantical aspect. Then She blossoms further, from petals to skin. The sultry, slim Egyptian lineaments of the blue goddess inflate beautifully to WWI zeppelin shapes (full-scale). Only once before this moment has your mere slob of a narrator-protagonist been considered worthy to see She‘s true condition. The illustration in the pamphlet must have been drawn from life. The She-God is, indeed, a titanically fat middle aged naked lady, who happens to be long and broad as several dozen Titanics.

Her blue skin resolves to the white of a native Anglo Saxonette–made even whiter by the long-legged whole-body garment of raw see-through cotton gauze, precisely as per the pamphlet’s illustration. Her boobs and other naughty bits are clearly visible through the stretched-out material. There are the holes for her nipples to peek through, and the magickal symbols are embroidered here and there in red and blue colored threads, gauged like ship’s cables.

The woo-woo talk dissolves with her Blue Goddess guise, like Isis’ veil lifting off the nude cosmos, like the curtain being drawn back from the Wizard in the Hollywood production that rounded up every midget in the world, recruited them as extras, and left them to sleep among the urinal mints at MGM’s back lot. That’s something like the way I feel, in comparison to my hostess: a pissy dwarf. Fortunately, pissoirs are my element, so I am not knocked off my journalistic stride. A true professional is this –ton, Full or Empty.


Preorder Apollo Unbound

Courtesy of Luna Press comes a weird graphic novel by Chris Kelso and Jim Agpalza, APOLLO UNBOUND!


Here is the info from Luna Press:

Scottish Writer Chris Kelso and Hawaiian artist Jim Agpalza have created Luna’s first comic, the surreal, Lynchian journey, Apollo Unbound, where Hollywood icon Apollo Calloway wakes up in the unlikeliest of places – rural Ayrshire.

Apollo Unbound is now out for pre-order, and will be available at Kilmarnock ComicCon, on the 18th of November!

You can pre-order the e-book through your usual avenues, but you will only get the pre-order discount on our website! Our subscribers will also get an extra discount voucher in the 1st of November newsletter. 

If you are not on our monthly newsletter list, there’s still time to sign up!

Praise for Chris Kelso:

“Someday soon people are going to be naming him as one of their own influences. He’s worth checking out.”– INTERZONE magazine

“His writing is transgressive, erudite, shocking.”– Mary Turzillo, NEBULA winner

“Will Self meets Chuck Palahniuk”– Former People magazine

Praise for Jim Agpalza:

“Jim Agpalza’s art is 100% pure concentrated aggro. Disturbingly terrific.” – Seb Doubinsky, author of The Babylonian Trilogy

“Agpalza’s art and Kelso’s writing come together for a definitive weird experience. Genuine underground magic” – Garrett Cook, author of A God of Hungry Walls

You can preorder Apollo Unbound here.

Show Me Your Shelves: Chris Kelso

Chris Kelso is one of those dudes who’s simultaneously likable and hard to love. Sure, he’s easy to get along with and always has a smile on his face, but then you read his books and you go “Fuck this guy, I wish I’d written this.” Oh, and he’s also ridiculously prolific and has a presence here in the US despite living in some faraway land known as Glasgow. In any case, he has a new book out, so I thought it was time to ask him some questions and get him to me me his shelves. Here’s what he had to say.

GI: Who are you and what role do books play in your life?

CK: I’m Chris Kelso, a dress-wearing polyglot savant who lives in the Highlands. Books play a crucial part in my life and have done since I was about 14. You can imagine how difficult it was for a remarkably unpopular teenager in parochial Ayrshire to find happiness and contentment. I started throwing myself into books – comics at first then I progressed to distinguished works of fiction soon after. It provided me with, and continues to provide me with, an extreme form of escapism – although my relationship with books, the role they play and the act of reading itself has changed slightly since I embarked upon a ‘writing career’ because recently I feel like I only read to learn my craft, to take notes and to develop as a writer. When I think about it, maybe I don’t read for just so much for escapism these days, which might be quite sad (not that I don’t still take some pleasure from reading).

 photo kelso1.jpg

GI: You’ve published a lot so far and you’re still a young cat. Are there any other hungry youngsters out there who you’d recommend to folks who dig your work?

CK: There are a lot. Most of the writers I know are young cats, I mean Max Booth III is 21 or something! I mean Jesus Christ! I think Preston Grassman, Jason Wayne Allen, Grant Wamack and Michael Allen Rose are all great, Rob Harris is great, Gabino – you’re great. In the other European countries Konstantine Paradias and Michael Faun are both young and hungry and brilliant. Love Kolle can spin a cool yarn too. They write smart transgressive fiction and will, without a doubt, forge long, prestigious careers for themselves.

GI: Is it hard selling books to folks in the US when you’re all the way in Glasgow? How’s the beer over there?

CK: It’s hard selling books anywhere to be honest. People in the US are actually a lot more responsive to my style of nihilistic nonsense than folks in Scotland. I really don’t sell a lot – fortunately the beer over here is radioactive horse piss that gets you good and lousy drunk.

 photo kelso2.jpg

GI: Best stuff you’re read so far in 2014, go!

CK: I’m enjoying Matt Bialer’s epic poem “Ascent” right now, but there are a dozen others I loved. “Time Pimp” by Garrett Cook is up there amongst my favourites with all the golden oldies I raced through this year, like Paul Auster’s “New York Trilogy” and Koestler’s “Darkness at Noon.” I also picked up Leopold Von Sacher Masoch’s classic “Venus in Furs” which I really related to. Actually, I had the pleasure of reading an early proof of Seb Doubinsky’s “WHITE CITY” which is coming out next year…but it’s a cracker!

GI: What’s in this new collection of yours and why should everyone go buy it the second they’re done with this interview?

CK: “Terence, Mephisto and Viscera Eyes is a collection of stories set within the Slave State. This is a much more measured and mature effort from me (at least I think so anyway!). There’s a story called ‘Baptizm of Fire’ in there that deals with a dystopian Lagos and the Slave State’s silent puppeteering of the Nigerian University confraternities. It’s much more melancholy than my usual stuff, it has much more heart – which was completely my intention. People should by it because I need to sell books…and I’m a real nice guy…

 photo viscera.jpg

Gabino Iglesias is a writer, journalist, and book reviewer living in Austin, TX. He’s the author ofGutmouth and a few other things no one will ever read. You can find him on Twitter at@Gabino_Iglesias