A few years ago I published a story about a Hearse club in Denver, Colorado. Its founder, Zachary, was and is remarkable for his well-modulated, clear, crisp speaking voice as well as his all-American good looks, not to mention his skill at running a thriving group in the real world for more than 8 years, which is longer than most bands or couples stay together. You might not figure from talking to Zach on the phone that he’s got an 80-foot mohawk, the top of which is dyed red.
Nor might you guess that he has a coffin-coffee table in his living room whose walls are painted a glossy bloody red and its ceiling jet black. But he is the head honcho of his macabre group of otherwise interesting, mostly friendly and fun bunch as well as a master mechanic, which you gotta respect because hearses require a higher degree of fixits than other cars. Zach has been known to travel hundreds of miles to obtain the right parts. I was passing through Denver both to visit family and to paint assorted rooms in said family’s house and thought I’d drop Zach a line. He graciously invited me to the Hearse club gathering happening that very evening. I did not go as a journalist, but I brought my camera and before the evening was over I had snapped a fat lot o’ pics – how could I not? I also met many juicy and interesting people, including a mortician, a model who specializes in gore, a self-proclaimed vampire, and others. I asked Zach if it was ok to post some of the more choice photos here, and he said sure. To wit, some highlights.
Here’s Mortician Girl, who pens a fascinating blog examining the inside workings of funeral parlors, funerals and the business of dying. (iPhone photo)
This is partygoer/hearse enthusiast Killa Kassie, who models for different events, specializes in the off-beat/alternative and who adds spark to any gathering.
At one point in the evening, Zach was seen swigging a mouthful of isopropyl alcohol and spitting it into an outdoor torch, resulting in a huge fireball.
One by one, revelers swigged and spat and either set the night aflame, or shot blanks. The key to a successful fireball is to blow as if you are spitting seltzer like a clown, or blowing a trumpet.
Of course, yours truly had to take a turn.
Some notes- This type of alcohol tastes like ass, and the effects remains for several hours post-fireball despite water, mouthwash, beer or anything else you can think of to douse the awful, acrid effects. The slightest hint of rawness in your mouth, whether tongue, gums or palate is instantly aggravated and it’s literally Great Balls Of Fire in your mush. The photos, however, make it worth it, as well as the feeling of being a real, live dragon, or Godzilla. Many thanks to Zach and the crew, and to Goddess for pointing me in the direction of continued adventure, astonishment and an interesting time here on planet Earth. Visit www.hearseclub.com to check out more, more, more. Josh Max, Auto Gigolo