Everything i eat turns alive if looked at long enough. I often wonder if once it’s consumed, the food continues to live inside of us.
This is a zine about the irregularities, mutations, and intrusive thoughts that plague my mind every mealtime.
In its creation, I hope to find someone who sees what I see when I cut into a pepper, and whose skin crawls the same way mine does when I pick up a potato that’s started to sprout.
Maybe with this, you too will shudder at a garlic’s core, a strawberry with too many pips, or a rogue melon seed...
Potatoes are a ticking time bomb. To the naked eye, they are still. Hardy, reliable. Until they become hungry, and, like a parasite, they start reaching out. Tangled, elongated feelers burst from the skin. When you look away, they get longer. They cling to every surface they can find, hunting for something to sink into. You mustn’t touch it, but go in knife-first. If you’re careless, one of the feelers will find your veins, and pierce into them, wrapping around them. It will travel through your bloodstream, around each organ, multiplying and replacing each part of your matter.
Eventually it will reach your brain, becoming your puppeteer. You will be nothing but a home for potatoes to grow and continue their conscienceless, parasitic existence. Over time, the Earth will become a land of hollow puppets, all because you touched a potato.
Illustrations and words by Charlie
Goacher,
also known as @cabinboy.jpeg
