Dennis Vogen's Official Website and Blog
March 30th, 2024
Jojo’s Time Machine is available now!!
My thirteenth (thirteenth?!) published book is available five ways: an ebook, deluxe paperback, deluxe hardcover, gold foil, and retail edition.
Watch this video! Listen to “U SUCK”, the first single from Merlin Wild! Pick up the graphic novel! 💛 you all!
March 30th, 2024
Today is the release of my new graphic novel, Jojo’s Time Machine, and I decided to do something special for it: I recorded a song?!
Allow me to explain.
Jojo the rabbit has a band. It’s called Merlin Wild; he plays bass, his best friend Monroe, a turtle, plays drums, and his other best friend, Ray, a giant worm, plays keyboard with his artificial arm.
Am I explaining?
Anyway, Merlin Wild is the best rabbit-turtle-worm three-piece in Bio City, and the idea of writing a song as them was too appealing and totally exciting to me. So I did it. The song is called U SUCK and it was the most fun thing to do.
In case you’re wondering: yes, the song is canon. It gives you a better picture of a relationship we see at a later stage in this story and it was a neat challenge to tell you more about Jojo and his life through another medium.
Hope you like it. Fair warning: it is infectious. That word could be used in several ways here.
I’ll be back with another video later today, but go pick up Jojo’s Time Machine now! It’s available on Amazon and some gold foil versions are still available on my website (while supplies last!).
Roll down your windows and enjoy the tune, little bunnies.
March 22nd, 2024
It’s been exactly one hot minute and the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated; here’s my face to explain how I’ve been busy, plus all the details I can give about Jojo’s Time Machine, which is coming out next week (oh jeez).
Don’t want to watch? Here’s some key moments:
Pre-order your gold foil edition here.
March 17th, 2024
Oh, man, I can’t believe I’m about to do this but I’m going to solve all of the division in our truly divided country, right now.
Are you ready for the secret? I honestly should charge for this kind of history-defining information, but I’m kind of a socialist Jesus-type, so here it is, for free.
The next time you watch the news, or scroll the internet, or look outside your window and ask yourself, “What has happened to America? Why are we so divided?”, I need you to ask yourself just one more tiny little question. The question is:
“Am I fucking doing that?”
That’s it.
And then answer it: yes or no.
Look at your own social media feed right now. Is it who you are? Is it kind? Is it hopeful? Is it inclusive? Is it the kind of words and action that work to unite and create positive change in this world?
Are you getting sweaty reading this?
What are your real life conversations like? With neighbors? With friends? With people who share your beliefs and, more importantly, with people who do not? Are you respectful? Do you listen? Do you learn?
Is any of this creating a pit in your stomach yet?
Instead of screaming into the void about the totally unexplainable way our country is torn on just about everything, scream into your own mouth and ask:
Am I fucking doing that?
Because holy shit it is so hard to be around some of you right now, especially on the internet.
Because you are.
You are fucking doing that.
And I sometimes do, too, and I swear on my dear mother’s beautiful life that I am trying to represent who I am better and better every day; I fail, and then I try again, but most days I can turn to myself and say:
I am not fucking doing that.
I love people (even the ones who make that difficult), and I try to be respectful, and understanding, and a safe space regardless of how little some think of safe spaces and their importance in this world.
And if this piece makes you uncomfortable, good. If it makes you mad, great. Be passionate about being good instead of being passionate about what apparent bad you can pass judgement upon, or about fanning flames created by people who just want to watch us burn.
When someone says you’ve been helpful, or you’re a good friend, or you’ve brightened their day, or you’ve given them hope, or you’ve changed their life for the better, you get to ask yourself the question again. And you’ll find that the same answer is also the best answer: yes.
I fucking did that.
March 15th, 2024
My fingers are locked tight around the steering wheel. I imagine all the ways this could go wrong at any moment, the reheated leftovers of PTSD, driving a formally stolen car that tried to kill me last year. I wonder if I can get fast enough that my car could lift up from the front and flip me over backwards; every gust of wind has me convinced that I am on black ice in the middle of the warmest spring we have ever experienced.
I remember my hands. I loosen my grip on the wheel.
The warm spring reminds me of our planet’s end; not imagined, but imminent. I think about the destruction of land, a thing we do not and can never own, and the destruction of bodies, a thing borrowed for a brief time as our own but claimed too often by others with no right. For breakfast I choke down the things the world says I need and I try to sneak in a bite of something that makes my soul do that happy food dance. My mind is a minefield and my heart treats it like a dancefloor. I get mesmerized and then paralyzed by hopelessness, which manifests in my body as control, the futile attempts to hold on tighter, trying to treat the water of life like it is ice I can sculpt.
I remember my hands. I loosen my grip on the wheel.
The hopelessness is like another gust of wind but more like a fart, a disgusting smell that I can get rid of by simply rolling down my window and letting in the cold, seasonally-agnostic breeze. The green air freshener doesn’t work. I don’t need to remind myself that I am out of control, but I do need to remember that my particles are here, at this exact moment in time and space, because of what those same particles did at the beginning of the universe. And you can call it god or physics or something fucking else, but we have never been in control, we will not find control today, and tomorrow will offer us no more control. Our atoms will keep moving in the direction that our entire history has set, and the only way to ride this is like a rollercoaster. Free will is a mystery and so is death. I will only die one way and I hope I don’t learn it for a long time.
I remember my hands. I loosen my grip on the wheel.
I can feel them in the air as I whisper to the universe: “Look, ma. No hands.”
March 11th, 2024
I can say without hyperbole that this book, Fluke, by Brian Klaas, is one of the best I’ve ever read.
The problem with reviewing something is that you don’t want to spoil the thing for a potential reader, but you have to say enough to make them feel compelled to read it. I will do my darndest.
Simply put, Fluke is about exactly that: the accidents, coincidences, surprises, the chaotic and random events, big and small, that dot the threads of our lives and the fabric of our deeply interwoven history.
You cannot exist in this universe without interacting with this universe. It is impossible. Even if you decided to become a reclusive hermit and live in the middle of nowhere, nowhere is somewhere, and every step and breath you take creates ripples across space and time.
There were certain truths that I’ve perceived about the world that weren’t reflected back at me through common “wisdom” or collected data; mainly, the idea that the world is too complex to ever be controlled or predicted simply, if at all.
In my books, these beliefs stretch back to my earliest days, from novellas like Them and Flip, to the graphic novel I’m finishing now. But I haven’t been able to express them like Fluke does.
I’ve worked in restaurants longer than most people I’ve met, and I am the first person, day after day, to admit that I have no idea how busy a shift will be. Sure, there are specific metrics you can look at — the number of reservations, the fact that it’s a holiday or the weekend — to make educated, simplified guesses, but humans are so complex and diverse as beings that it is impossible to actually predict what will happen on any given day.
And this is true of any day, anywhere, at any time in human history. A frightening, exhilarating fact of life.
Klaas (a fellow, former Minnesotan whose writing I fell in love with over on Substack) dives in deep, exploring change, chance, probabilities, our brains and bodies, faith, mob mentality, philosophy, stories (extraordinary true ones, and the ones we tell ourselves), locusts, butterflies, time, math, science, and more, and ends with some of the most beautiful, inspiring writing about life that I have had the luck to read.
To say I highly recommend this book isn’t tall enough praise; if you’ve ever felt hopeless or overwhelmed or uncertain about the inextricable existence we all share, these are 13 chapters you need to read. I’ve been raving that my brain has been broken by this book for days now, and even though it’s shattered, I have never felt better to let the pieces lie.
Kurt Vonnegut, as shared in Fluke, sums it up:
“A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.”
March 7th, 2024
I know I’ve said this before, but I’m tired.
Mostly, I’m tired of pretending.
I like Joe Biden. I’m not in love with him. He’s far from perfect. He’s not my whole personality. In fact, he’s not even part of it. I have a lot of my own bad ideas and big feelings and small words, thank you very much.
But I do like him. I got tears in my eyes watching the end of his speech tonight. Call me a sucker (go ahead, I am), but I do believe that we can build a brighter future, and I believe in the country we call home and the people who live on this planet and I, most of all, believe in hope.
And I’m tired of pretending.
I’m tired of pretending that any of this is politics as normal. I’m tired of pretending that the other guy is just another candidate. I’m tired of pretending that most people are informed and not being willfully ignorant when it comes to what is happening right now.
I wrote an essay earlier this year about how we have never had better access to information and have never been less informed; I am tired of people who cannot dig deeper than one inch past their biases.
I used to love the phrase “cognitive dissonance” and now I am sick of it; I am tired of pretending that half of our country is not a swarm that eats the insects both in its way and who try to get out.
I’ve been busy. Busy being an artist and busy being a human. Every time I’ve tried to write an essay, I found myself tired.
Today I am so tired that I couldn’t do anything but write these words.
I try to be kind. I try to be plain and friendly, open and thoughtful. I keep myself engaged with the world; I remember that everyone and everything is connected, every word and action a ripple across space and time. I think universally, and do my best to act personally. I hope these words resonate with anyone who could read this paragraph in the first person.
I’m tired of pretending that our future is out of our hands.
It’s not.
And I’m so tired of feeling like this that I have trouble sleeping at night.
February 26th, 2024
Let’s go.
Jojo’s first adventure drops 03.30.24.
February 16th, 2024
We have the best access to all the information from all of human history and, according to recent studies, less comprehension of it than ever before.
This is a unique era of humanity; not because, generally, we have lost all sense of context, trust, and grace, but because it has never been easier to have these qualities, and this ignorance is by choice.
Basically, a lot of people are fucking mean, violent, and stupid, and it doesn’t feel like we can do much about it.
I, myself, have adopted a policy: I don’t argue with anyone who is not a serious person anymore. I don’t mean unfunny. I love funny people, even funny people I disagree with. By that, I mean if it’s clear that the person I’m having a discussion with has no idea what they’re talking about (and passionately!) when it comes to a particular topic, I simply nod my head and keep kicking my can down the street, because it has become impossible to have a civil conversation with unserious minds.
You think Donald Trump is Christ-like and has come to save our nation and souls?
Okay. You are clearly unserious. There is a specific kind of physical damage to your brain that neither facts, his words and actions, or my words can repair.
You deny climate change and say shit on the internet like “actually, the world is in a cooling period,” even though over 98% of the world’s scientists disagree and 2023 was the hottest year we’ve had in 125,000 years?
In this case, we’re not agreeing to disagree. You’re wrong and the facts are correct and clear, and I can’t speak, with a straight face, to somebody so comically unserious.
You continue to be openly, aggressively racist or sexist; you deny the impact of slavery or colonization or the history of genocide; or you genuinely think late-stage capitalism is working out for most of us?
We can actually have a conversation about any of these things. Once you become a serious person, of course.
I have long-avoided most comment sections. This is where unserious people get you. They find ways to irritate or infuriate or hurt you, and you comment furiously back, knowing it’s futile, knowing that you’re just making it worse. Most likely on yourself.
We can’t keep giving unserious people our priceless and limited time.
But I’ve found a very nourishing balm to put on the cracked, red skin of division: talking to people about what they do know.
Yes, even unserious people.
Because even they know at least one thing pretty well, better than anyone else: themselves. And having conversations with people about the deep stuff — where they came from, where they want to go, their hopes and dreams, their fears and losses — can draw something stronger to us than the lines between us.
These kinds of conversations give us context. They give us trust. They give us grace.
They’re the kind of moments that give me hope, against cruelty and violence and ignorance.
We have access to all the information that has ever existed, and it’s led us here. Information isn’t enough on its own, and it’s why technology will never be us.
In the end, humanity is the only thing that will ever comprehend humanity.
February 12th, 2024
Am I going to comment on Travis Kelce today?
You bet I am. Because if there’s one thing I love to do, it’s challenge the rotting hive mind of the rabid mob we know as the internet.
I saw the moment last night. Travis comes in hot, taking his coach, 65-year-old Andy Reid, completely off guard while yelling… something about wanting to play football.
I’ve seen the reactions today. Oddly, the word I’ve seen used most is “disgusting,” and I guess I just have a different definition of the word, of what I find to be disgusting.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve yelled at someone, and how many times someone has yelled at me. I really can’t. Human behavior is funny like that; one moment, we’re in control, calm and collected, and the next, we have these things called emotions and we’re reminded that we’re never in control, not really, and our guts are spilled all over the floor.
I didn’t care about the moment. I wanted to know what happened AFTER.
So I started looking for interviews with Coach Reid from after the game. And here’s what Andy himself said:
He said that Travis did catch him off guard. We saw that. Andy also said he understands Travis, his passion and his intensity. And he said after that moment, the moment when the internet decided that Travis was disgusting, an unrecognizable animal, unlike any other human who has ever lived, Travis walked over, gave him a big hug, and apologized to him.
Which, and I don’t know if you know this, is the right thing to do.
I have no stake in these football people or their lives, though we are a Taylor household. But I have made terrible mistakes and my emotions get the best of me, daily, without fail, and I try really, really hard to not let them.
But they do. And all I can do, all anyone can do, on their best day, is come back in the moment, give the person they wronged a hug, and say they’re sorry.
And there’s a certain level of grace that today’s internet mob was either born without, or has completely forgotten.
I hope, if possible, you have a perfect day in which you act perfectly in the perfect world you inhabit. Please remember that the rest of us are deeply flawed but, honestly, we’re trying. Some of us are trying to win the Super Bowl, and some of us are just trying to not give everybody else the middle finger.
The Den