Razor Hill Comix

🔞Welcome to Razor Hill Comix, my name is BAG. I make comix, zines, and other filth. 🪰💀 💕 Find me in other places https://razorhillcomix.carrd.co/

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Another day closer to Vancouver, another art card in the bag. Any Vancouver artists out there wanna connect?

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I'd rather rot.

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I'm not completely sure as to what I am doing here in this life. Most people likely feel the same, I suppose.

I have this glimmer of an idea of what I want my future to look like, but with every fucking day that passes I see each possible future zip by me.

As I write this I am standing on a double decker bus that is barreling through a tunnel, on the way to a job that pays the bills. In fact I feel a twinge of guilt complaining as I know there are others out there suffering and without.

But I hate it. I hate this need for money, I hate this weird tangled contract I found myself sold into from birth. And I especially hate that my first reaction to hating this fucking system, is guilt.

We are all sick, mentally diseased animals caught in some sort of death spiral.

I fear it might be too late to pull back and save us from the impending impact. Some will survive no doubt and if there are enough of us left, we will spread once again. I only hope that batch does it better.

And if we whimper and fade away, some evolving back into nature's fold like the dinosaurs did after their lengthy rule, then so be it.

I'm tired. My brain is foggy. I don't remember writing this or why I felt it was important.

Well, here it is regardless.

A Gutter Gospel to you from me, BAG!

Living a dream, but it certainly isn't my own.

The New Taste is here.

We are growing in the dark. Spores, just waiting to emerge.

🪰💀👁️

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Calling all freaks...

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Vancouver based artists, punk rockers and or zine makers. I will be coming in from Hong Kong a year from now and I am looking to make some contacts. Hit me up, lets make some cool shit together when I land.

Yours truly, BAG! 🪰💀💋

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Devoured

Here's a page from a short comic that I have been working on. What do you think? Are you a writer? You looking to team up with someone on a project, hit me up.

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Ribb Licka

I'm gonna be posting some throwbacks here for a bit while I build up my portfolio and get back in action. So, please enjoy as I dump some of my old digital work all over your eyeballs.

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The Gutter Gospel: Entry 11

4/4/2026

I believe this to be entry eleven, but I am not too sure. I'll keep track going forward.

It's about time for another one of these. I am more than aware of the fact that I am shouting into the void, but recently a few have begun to shout back. There is a thickness in the air recently. Something nearly sexual. Perhaps that sounds disgusting, but that’s where I am at currently.

There is a nearly drug-like feeling permeating my mind, body, and spirit (if you would be so inclined to call it that). I'm buzzing. Something is on the horizon and I am choosing to meet it this time. I can't exactly pinpoint what the fuck is going on with me. Perhaps it's a simple chemical imbalance and I am on the cusp of losing my fucking mind. If I'm being absolutely honest, though, it feels really fucking good. Not just positive vibes. My body feels it; physically, I feel like all of my nerve endings are vibrating and my jawline clenches as if I am back on some ecstasy trip.

I haven't touched that stuff in years, so the way I see it, it's three things. One: I am losing my fucking mind. Two: All those drugs I forced into my body as a youth have been stored in my fatty tissue and I am starting to experience chemical flashbacks. And three—the one I am choosing to embrace—is that I have tripped onto something and I am waist-deep in a creative awakening. One that I choose to ride deep into the unknown. Unknown for me. What the fuck does all this mean?

I have no fucking clue. For anyone who has made it this far, give me a sign that you have actually read this. I would like to know who the real ones are. I am not chasing numbers; I am looking for quality. I am searching for The New Taste. One or two have begun to surface. If you are in fact reading this, you know who you are. Just know I appreciate the fuck out of your existence and firmly believe we will conjure some wild shit here soon. Stick with me; I won't back down this time.

I give you my word.

This has been BAG! once again shouting from the top of Razor Hill.

I'll be seeing you real soon.

🪰💋💀

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GUTTER GOSPEL

April 2nd 2026

I've been sitting in this room for an hour now. The coffee that I poured has, minute by minute, grown colder and colder.

Procrastinating on printing this zine that has been finished for two days now. What am I waiting for? Perhaps that old tinge of my childhood fear of being judged threatens to resurface every time I attempt to take a step forward. Not this time however.

I take a sip of my now room temperature coffee. Dust seems to have collected on the surface, I don't mind.

Does the printer intimidate me? Yes, yes I suppose it does. I've been worried about how to print shit on both sides of the paper. A week ago I would have been embarrassed to admit that, but I am on a new path. I choose to embrace myself, imperfections included.

This does not mean that I will stop growing or trying to do the best I can. It only means that I will stop hiding behind a mask of perfectionism. Walking around as if my shit doesn't stink. When in truth we all know that each one of us stinks like shit at least once a day. Right? If not more.

I choose to open my arms to decay, inner and outer. Social, urban, emotional, biological, all forms of decay are mine and yours as well. Things can grow from the rot if you stop endlessly trying to clear it away. Let it become a fertile soil for your soul to plant its seeds. Maybe something will emerge, maybe it won't.

Anyway, until next time.

You know my name, say it however you like.

See you on Razor Hill

🪰💋💀

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Finishing touches on the zine. 👁️

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Finishing touches on the zine. 👁️

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Just a fuckin' taste 🪰💋

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

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