Published Monthly

From the Editor ... (June 2004)
by Michael Haislip

Like a cicada rising from the earth to spread its slimy green wings, AntiMuse is back and ready to belt out the mating call of creativity.

Speaking of cicadas, the little buggers haven’t quite arrived at the AntiMuse compound. I recall several summers that were dominated by the shrill mating call of the insects, their noise cutting through the humid July air. Walking along the tree line near my house, I could spot hundreds of their abandoned husks clinging to trees. The shed skin looked like pork rinds, and anytime I can use a pork rind simile, I’m a happy boy.

The things emerge in periodic batches called broods, which means that they wear black and write angst-filled poetry. Every few years, these moist, black bugs pop out of the dirt and make a horrible buzzing noise, which they use to attract a mate. They also use it to annoy the hell out of everyone. It’s like listening to a garage band guitarist jamming out on an amplifier that’s been dropped off a bridge several times. Fortunately, the cicadas don’t mangle “Stairway to Heaven” every damn day. Damn kids.

During the cicada season, driving through the country becomes a game of dodge-the-rock-hard insect. They hit like hailstones on the windshield. You’ll be driving along, enjoying the sunny day and rocking out to your classic Ace of Base cassette, when you hear THWACK. Drive a bit more ... THWACK. Flip the tape to the under-appreciated B-side ... THWACK THWACK SPLAT. By trip’s end, the car is covered in bug guts and the grill has become a mobile entomology exhibit.

AntiMuse is a bit like a sticky, wet bug. Every month, we climb out of our stasis, extend our wings and fly away to spread our genes. Occasionally, we’ll be buzzing along some forgotten back road, fluttering and buzzing, when the Volvo of Readership comes along. Then, we splatter on the Windshield of Perception, shocking the reader into a new state of consciousness. And, as we lay stuck to the glass by our own guts, we hope the reader doesn’t remove us with the Squeegee of Conformity.

-- MJH 2004

Michael Haislip is the editor of AntiMuse. For 6 years, he published the cult favorite American Assassin magazine, churning out almost 1000 pages of commentary and humor in that span. In his spare time, Michael is a freelance writer and musician. He also wishes it known that he has the longest biography out of all the staff writers.


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