Sign in - post apocalyptic notes July 2020

It could just be because it's a Monday

Or because the world is appearing particularly fuckish today. Stories of heartache and conflict and climate disaster.

So, it's good when a new zine drops in the Inbox, followed by new funding opportunities for the not-faint-hearted, undeterred by rhyme/reason, coping with post-apocalyptic terminology writer. It's SO hot off the press it's not even digitally online yet, so here's just a tease of the cover. Until such time as I can share it more generously.

https://utoprozine.com/

Where Bees Dare

While dabbling with a poem about bees, I discovered the Schmidt Sting Pain Index and just had to share. This is is a pain scale rating the relative pain caused by different insect stings. With some delightful descriptions.

• 1.0 Sweat bee: Light, ephemeral, almost fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm.
• 1.2 Fire ant: Sharp, sudden, mildly alarming. Like walking across a shag carpet and reaching for the light switch
• 1.8 Bullhorn acacia ant: A rare, piercing, elevated sort of pain. Someone has fired a staple into your cheek.
• 2.0 Bald-faced hornet: Rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to getting your hand mashed in a revolving door
• 2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine W. C. Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.
• 2.x Honey bee and European hornet: Like a matchhead that flips off and burns on your skin.
• 3.0 Red harvester ant: Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.
• 3.0 Paper wasp: Caustic and burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut.
• 4.0 tarantula hawk: Blinding, fierce, shockingly electric. A running hair drier has been dropped into your bubble bath.
• 4.0+ Bullet ant: Pure, intense, brilliant pain. Like firewalking over flaming charcoal with a 3-inch rusty nail in your heel.

Anyone reaching for the paracetemol at the mere thought ?