I worked a lot this weekend. (If you popped into the restaurant at any time, virtually open to close, on Saturday or Sunday, I was there to delight/annoy you.)
This little girl missed me. A lot.
She always greets me at the door, but tonight was different. She missed me so much that she couldn’t stop wagging her tail.
The reason this is notable (and hilarious) is because my dog doesn’t really have a tail, so she was just awkwardly wiggling her butt side to side to show me how much she adored me.
And I thought it was so human.
How many of us appreciate someone so much that we never feel like we can adequately show them?
I feel like that all the time. When words or a high five just doesn’t let the people around you know how much they mean to you and how much better they make your life.
It leaves you feeling like a dog, with no tail, wiggling your butt side to side in the hopes that they just understand.
And I hope you understand, and I hope you live a life with people who keep your bottom shaking.
Fifteen years ago, in September, I released my second album, “Love & Fear.”
I remember the beginning of 2020. (It was a very long time ago. I would understand if you couldn’t think back so far.) I knew that the 15th anniversaries of all three of my Next Step albums were going to happen in succession: “Something Old, Something New…” in 2020, “Love & Fear” in 2021, and “Honesty & Happiness” in 2022. I wanted to do cool things. I wanted to play live again. I wanted to release more music. I wanted to do all of the cool things.
And then what happened happened.
And I dropped those plans for the artistic things I knew I had to do. I took another route, and it’s been a beautiful one. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bum me out sometimes.
Making music was a major part of my young life. I was never as good at it as the supremely talented people around me, but that didn’t stop me from putting out more recorded music than most of them. (That is not a sick burn. That is an objective fact.) The early 2000’s was the Wild West of home recording; you didn’t get to bring home an impossibly powerful computer with GarageBand and a pre-packaged AI producer. You had to figure stuff out with everybody else. On a PC that was arguably less capable than the phone in your pocket. We were just starting to learn how the internet could work. We had MySpace.
I have so many stories of that time that would probably get me put in a retirement home if I shared them.
But I have drive. And I rode that until the wheels fell off. Once I recorded the songs, I rounded up friends, some who could play, some who decidedly could not, and we did countless shows, from people’s backyards to Seventh Street Entry to the Turf Club and beyond.
Music takes a lot from you. A lot of effort and energy. There’s a ton of competition. And a fair share of heartbreak. Writing has always been my first and one true love; music allows me to write in a different way. But at the end of the day, all I need are the words; in my late twenties, I got more serious about writing, and less involved in making music. I started to have a better idea of where I wanted my effort and energy to go. But I always miss music.
This is all just a long way of saying: I’m looking at the snow fall down outside my window and I’m thinking about the songs we used to sing. It reminded me that I forgot to wish “Love & Fear” a happy 15th birthday. So, here’s a new version of “Just Once, Just Tonight,” recorded just tonight, just for you. Leave your favorite Next Step memories in the comments, or any requests for other songs from the album. All my love, Steppers. (I just came up with that name for Next Step fans. It’s good, right?)
Just Once, Just Tonight Music and lyrics by Dennis Vogen
You’re so colorful the way you use the words you know I thought I’d start this song with a compliment Your eyes intoxicate, I’m drunk by every move you make You’ve given me so much, and more, and more, I can’t forget You’re so beautiful It scares me, I think you should know You think you’re insecure? Just take a look at me Your mind it plays like Pong and bounces worries ‘round and ‘round An obscure reference but that’s so why you love me
Don’t hide this time Don’t cry, I’ll try To let you be right Just once, just tonight
You know it’s meant to be At least that’s what I meant to say I tried to hold you close and just pushed you away I try to make you laugh You barely smile, imagine that You think it’s only you But, no, I’m dying, too
Don’t hide this time Don’t cry, I’ll try To let you be right Just once, just tonight
You’re so good, you know I’m no good, you know
Don’t hide this time Don’t cry, I’ll try To let you be right Just once, just tonight
All Next Step albums available wherever you listen to music.
It’s not my birthday today. But I did begin to exist in the world in a new way. I am four years sober as of right this moment.
This will come as no surprise if you know how dramatic I can be, but for a long time I was waiting for the Big One: an event so massive and life-altering that I would be forced to admit that I had hit rock bottom, and I would have to get sober. Like you see on TV.
It was an abstract event in my mind. Something serious, something life-threatening. A black hole nexus point.
But that isn’t what happened. Instead, I had what I have repeatedly referred to as a “spiritual vomiting”; my brain and my heart couldn’t take the way I was living anymore and I vowed to get sober that weekend, on my own. I’ve recounted what happened next a handful of times, but long story short, I ended up in the hospital for a week (it was a blast) and have been sober since.
I didn’t have a lose-it-all, impossible-to-deny rock bottom moment. I managed to keep most of the relationships I had (and probably am a lot better at those relationships now). I never got a DUI or had any legal trouble. I didn’t die.
So how would this lifestyle shift stick if I didn’t know how bad it could really get? I had maybe reached rock middle.
Since then, I’ve heard a phrase countless times that defines my experience.
Rock bottom is whenever you decide to stop digging.
Once that idea took root in my mind, I realized I didn’t need it to get any worse to appreciate how amazing this life can be.
I created The Flying Squirrel while I was still a drinker. I actually wrote him getting sober before I admitted I had a problem. Eventually, I caught up with him, and he inspired me to talk about all this stuff and more. I’ve connected to so many people since.
If you’re hanging in there, I’m proud of you, no matter what it looks like. Whether it’s for years or days or just a moment at a time, I hope you’re able to connect to what this place is all about.
He just showed up. He stopped by every table. He talked to every kid. He took a photo with anyone who asked. He carried sacred sleigh bells.
I didn’t call him. No one did. He was there, and then he wasn’t.
It was just really nice to get a reminder that there are still people out there who care about keeping magic in this world.
I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.
I think that life has become the most difficult for the people who can’t stop caring. Even the people I get so mad at, so upset over, I still care about. I will talk shit about someone and then give them a hug and I’ll mean it.
Like Santa, I just want people to remember there’s still magic here. And there are people who think magic is stupid and that is why I get so tired.
If you’re struggling today, I care about you. If you’re looking for magic, I’m right there with you. If you’re one of those people I’m frustrated or upset with, I still love you.
And I don’t care if you care, but sometimes it just feels good to get the words out.
Take a moment right now and look out your window, up at the sky.
I haven’t been spicy in a while, and I don’t mean to be today. But I want to explore one of those phrases that seems harmless on its surface but is loaded with a level of ignorance and selfishness that I’m not sure its users intend.
When it comes to death and dying, people of faith, at least those I have encountered, love to say these words or a variation of them:
“Well, if I go, I go. That just means it’s my time. It’s all part of God’s plan.”
Suicidal overtones aside, let’s talk about how this is not true.
If someone walked up to you and shot you in the chest, I would be hard-pressed to believe you would look up to the sky, thank your creator, and accept this as your fate with both thumbs up.
I also find it hard to imagine you would feel content if someone shot someone you loved in a similar way.
Duly, the person carrying the gun is not carrying out any god’s will.
This line of thinking brings me to the conclusion that there are words and phrases that people of faith should not use when it comes to death, like “tragedy,” “unimaginable,” or “before their time.” Because, if there is a plan, then everything happens according to it; there is nothing tragic about everything going to schedule, and nobody can go before their time because they got exactly the amount intended. If this sounds not right to you, then welcome to the party.
Now let’s listen to what this sentiment sounds like during the pandemic.
It sounds like someone saying I don’t care what happens to anybody else because I know that I will be fine in the hands of my God.
Which would be fine if getting sick ended with you.
Instead, getting sick is like being shot with the gun and then given as many guns as people you meet.
So when someone says, “If I go, I go,” what they’re actually saying is, “If they go, they go.”
And that can be infuriating to hear.
If someone cares about life, then it shouldn’t be okay when anyone goes. It’s not. It sucks. Sure, some of you may be looking forward to Heaven — but what’s the rush?
If you stay, we can hang out a little longer and face this life together. If I stay, we can try to make this secular world a better place.
The particles that make up you are the same particles that make up dogs and forks and books and cars and trees.
I think humans prefer labeled boxes (which are also made up of the same particles) so we don’t think about that much.
If you want, you can look at your own particles and love them exactly the way they are. You can thank whoever you think put them together for putting them together exactly like you. They did such a good job. You can marvel at the fact that all of your particles, billions and billions in number, work together to allow you to be a person and do person things and think person thoughts.
If you don’t like your particles, you can change them. That’s allowed, because they are your particles. If your outside particles don’t represent your soul, or how you feel on the inside, particles can can be moved and pushed and placed where you want, like puzzle pieces with infinite edges.
There are no ways to do particles wrong.
Because particles are representatives. They come together to show you things. The things they become are so different, but before they become those things they are all the same.
Whenever I get overwhelmed, which is often and annoying, I try to think about how big and small the universe is. But as above, so below. The biggest, brightest things in existence are made up of the exact same particles as the teeny tiniest.
You are made up of literal star matter.
Particles are amazing. You are particles. The transitive property will tell you the rest.
Howdy, dear friends, precious family, and mortal enemies. When I added you to this email list, I promised I wouldn’t spam you; it’s been over a full year since I’ve sent you a newsletter (369 days, to be exact), so I’ll be eating a cookie (or sleeve of them) tonight to celebrate my honesty.
I want to start by saying happy holidays, whatever those words or this season means to you.
For a lot of people, it’s a hard time. I have my days. It’s been just over a year since I lost my mom, and that colors the way I feel most of the time, but especially when the bright lights go up on the roofs and we’re afforded only a few hours of sunlight a day.
I hope you’re hanging in there. If you ever need someone to talk to, you can email me back here, or message me on the various social media sites I haunt. Sometimes we just need an ear or an eye. I get that.
How was your 2021?
It definitely felt like a direct-to-video sequel to the year that preceded it, less dramatic but keeping to the themes established in the first film. I hope you were able to stay relatively well and take care of yourself in any of the ways we need to take care.
As for myself, I released two new books, one Special Edition of two previous titles, and went on a fall convention tour.
In May, I released Time is a Solid State: Essays 2017 – 2021. If you follow me on the aforementioned social media or on my website, dennisvogen.com, you’ll know that I write a lot about the real world and my real life. More than a few people have reached out over the years to tell me their favorite form of my writing is this non-fiction kind, so I put together the best of my essays and posts in chronological order as a book. The description goes:
“Dennis Vogen is not a meme. He has claimed to be an acclaimed writer for years, releasing novellas like Theia, Flip, and Them, and creating comics and graphic novels like Brushfire and The Weirdos. Here, he collects blogs, posts, essays and loose change from nearly half a decade. They cover a spectrum of topics, from comic books to sobriety, from outer space to his dog, from pop culture to spirituality, from nostalgia to the multiverse, from joy to grief and everything between. You will find that Dennis Vogen is a lot of things and, for better or for worse, has a lot to say. But he is not a meme.”
In July, I finally released Push, the sequel to Flip, one of my early novellas. I had my first event since the pandemic started, at Issues Needed Comics in Apple Valley, to celebrate not only this book, but everything I have released over the past two years — The Weirdos: Volume I, Theia, Flip: Special Edition, and Time is a Solid State. The description for Push:
“‘My dreams aren’t what they used to be.’ From Dennis Vogen, the acclaimed writer of The Weirdos, Theia, and Time is a Solid State, comes the sequel to the beloved novella, Flip. It’s been a year of extreme change for Liam. In real life, and in dreams. The revelations he’s had to accept and the heavy questions he can’t answer or ignore have altered the landscape of his sleep irrevocably. His dreams are a place of monsters and shadows now. Something dark is growing and coming for him. He knows who is behind this. Or does he? Dennis Vogen’s sequel to Flip dives deeper into the personal worlds of dreams and loss, while digging fearlessly into complicated truths and ever more dangerous lies.”
Then — because, really, why the heck not — I released a Special Edition of Them + Us, my first novella and series of books, in one collected format. It allowed me to revisit this story and characters that I really love, and shine light on even more layers I discovered years later. As it’s described:
“‘Everyone remembers where they were when they landed, just like they remembered where they were on 9/11, which had happened only a decade earlier.’ A young woman named Kim discovers, through her television, that our world has been invaded by people from outer space. She blacks out, and when she wakes up, her parents have disappeared. She embarks on a road trip across the country with a kind stranger named Guy, kicking ass and humming tunes along the way. In 2013 and 2014, acclaimed writer Dennis Vogen published his first series: Them and Us, two punk rock sci-fi novellas that live and die on their humor, heart, violence, and wit (or lack thereof). In 2021, with this Special Edition collection, he revisits the epic with a razor-like clarity and vengeance. A story about growing up while facing your past; a story about finding a family while choosing your own; a story about love and truth and control and privilege and forgiveness and acceptance. And figuring it all out during an alien invasion. For mature audiences.”
And, you know, that’s it.
I finally have all seven of my published works readily available, not only digitally, but in multiple formats, including print, and that has been a life-affirming mood. I feel a level of wholeness and completion in this stage of my career that I haven’t had before.
To top it all off, I went on a local convention tour this fall. Some of you reading this may have been there.
Whether I met you at FallCon XL in St. Paul, Twin Cities Con in Minneapolis, NerdinOut Con in Rochester, Alloy Brewing Company in Coon Rapids, or at all four dates, it was absolutely my pleasure and privilege to meet your acquaintance (or get to hang out with you again). Making art is a lonely thing, and to be able to meet people who read it and get it and get into it the way that I’m into it is just the greatest thing.
With that being said, I’m working hard on the next thing(s). Brushfire is my main focus, the all-ages graphic novel I’ve been creating and constructing for years. It’s difficult, but it’s really rewarding and one of the truest expressions of myself I’ve been able to scribble. There will be more details on it in the new year.
But to end this year, I’m having TWO sales at my website – dennisvogen.com – right now. The first is 20% off your entire order – all you have to do is enter any of Santa’s reindeer as your code, in all capital letters. The second is almost gone – the entire paperback collection of my work for just $69.69 plus shipping, which I have brilliantly named the Double Nice Sale. I made only six of these collections available, and they’re already over half sold — you can do the math. If you’ve ever wanted to get a book of mine but couldn’t decide where to start, this is an amazing deal because you get it all.
Speaking of “it all,” and doing conventions, I’ve mastered the quick pitch for each of my stories if you’re still wondering what’s right for you.
…
Them + Us: Like Quentin Tarantino writing sci-fi, a violent, raunchy, funny & heartfelt tale about a young woman, Kim, who loses her parents during an alien invasion.
Flip + Push: A series about dreams, loss and grief. Liam has vivid dreams, and Alen, a prisoner, is killing people in them. Liam does whatever he can to stop Alen at great personal risk and excessive harm to himself.
The Weirdos: a superhero story about people with problems who have potential. I put my defects into these characters: The Flying Squirrel is an alcoholic comic book writer, The Sketch is depressed to the point where she’s suicidal, The Blue-Ringer has cancer and Das has deep anger issues. They meet at a rehab facility called Lake Mary and, there, they form a team called The Weirdos. A story where, instead of punching their way out their problems, the superheroes learn how to connect to each other.
Theia: A book about running away. On the surface, it’s about a silver Boston Terrier trying to escape a shelter, but I wrote it at the end of summer 2020; it became a book about the year itself, as told through the animals Theia meets.
Time is a Solid State: I write a lot on the internet about myself and the world. This is those words as a book.
…
If you are somehow still here, wow. Did we just become best friends?
In all seriousness, I appreciate you. I appreciate every single person I’ve met, at shows and online, all the kind words, all the criticisms, all the moments, awkward and sublime. Here is to next year.
I hope you’re hanging in there. I hope you hang in there. My line is always open. I am so glad you’re here.
Happy holidays to you again – whatever those words or this season means to you.
On this Cyber Monday, one of the holiest of modern shopping days, I hope you consider the little guy. The local shop. Your neighbor or your friend or your family.
It’s hard to express how big it is when we make a sale, especially since it’s such an intimate thing. Whether it’s at a table at a convention center or someone across the country in New Jersey ordering your entire body of work, it changes our lives and makes an immediate impact in how we live.
Because of some of you, I am able to get groceries today, I’m able to pay my dental insurance, I can buy dog food. Yes, I have a day job, but like every other industry in the world right now, times in mine are hard. Sometimes hours are more difficult to come by, and sometimes people aren’t as generous. But because of the amazing folk who support my work, I’ve been able to avoid going back on unemployment during those lean weeks. That’s how big it is to people as small as me.
Not to mention the joy it brings us to share our work with you. I was boxing more $69.69 collections today, and I was in awe at what I put in the box. The years of hurt and then the years of work it took to make The Weirdos. How I was able to not only survive 2020, but turn it into art like Theia. How I’ve been able to distill the words I use to describe how I see life into Time is a Solid State. How floored I am that I was even able to create one book from scratch, start to finish, beginning with Them.
I can’t name a fellow writer or artist I know that doesn’t feel this way or a variation of it. The pillars that this support provides go beyond financial; you could be the reason someone continues on their artistic journey, because your purchase or encouraging comments were what that person needed at the time. Being an artist is hard. Being as raw as we can be can leave us vulnerable.
So if you’ve been that person: thank you. Thank you with every syllable I’ve ever expressed. And if you’re thinking about being that person: I couldn’t recommend it more. You all know someone in your life who is doing the thing they are meant to be doing. Your support is divine affirmation to them that they’re not wrong.
Now. I drive past the Burger King. I start crying.
Then. I’m sitting in the fake leather booth, my hands under my bottom, feeling the cracks and the holes created from the hundreds of bottoms that have sat here before. The booth is orange or brown or both colors at the same time. You look into my bag to see what toy I got with my meal.
Now. I’m getting on the freeway at the truck stop entrance ramp in Faribault.
Then. I can see the look in your eyes as you spot the toy. It’s one we already have in our collection. I feel anxiety as I know what’s about to happen next. I feel embarrassment as I walk up to the counter and ask for a different toy. I feel every other eye in the restaurant looking at me, judging me, though I don’t dare turn around to see if it’s actually true.
Now. I’m speeding on the freeway.
Then. You let us wander around the newly constructed indoor playground. We’re with friends. You talk to your friends. I talk to mine. I don’t know how much time passes. Minutes? Hours? Days? We’re finally ready to leave the Burger King. We say bye to our friends and get in the car.
Now. I’m still on the freeway, driving away from the Burger King. I know how fast I’m going and I know how fast I need to go. I have to hit 88 miles per hour, because then I can go back. Not to the Burger King now, but to the Burger King then. It’s the same Burger King, but the one I’m driving away from means nothing to me now.
Then. I imagine that we’ll go back to Burger King a million times. I add our new toy to the collection when we get home. You kiss me goodnight and I go to sleep like I think I always will.
Now. I can never go back to Burger King, not the one that you and I shared. Sometimes I pick up a toy that reminds me of you. Sometimes I drive too fast to see if I can time travel. There is no always, but there is forever in that booth with you.
Are you one of those fans who keeps going to the online shop or seeing me at conventions, wanting to buy one of my books but not sure where to begin? Have you read all of my work digitally and want to take the next step by filling your bookshelf with every paperback of mine in existence? Are you a superfan who already owns every book and wants to give the complete collection to someone you love dearly?
Well, do I have the best sale ever for you!
I am offering a complete collection of my work for the amazing, very nice price of $69.69 (+ shipping)! Imagine your loved one (or mortal enemy) unwrapping these on Christmas morning, now enriched (or burdened) by these beautiful books!
I am offering only SIX of these collections, and when they’re gone, they’re gone. I offer discounts at conventions, but this is above and beyond even that; at an average of $20 a book, this collection is worth over $120.
I hope your holidays have not completely sucked so far (but if they have, send me a line), and I hope these books find a good home! (And don’t forget, there is a 20% off sale going for those of you who just want an item or two. Use any of Santa’s reindeer, all capital letters, as your code.)
The Den 