Think I'm Gonna Be Sick: A Review of Heck, Texas by Tex Gresham – KKUURRTT


Heck Texas is vile. The kind of book you must hide under your mattress if you’re having company over. For the (all too justifiable) fear that anyone who chances to stumble on this text and is dispossessed enough to open its cursed pages will forever pass judgment upon you and yours. Banishment from the church group vacation up to the mountains for inadvertently summoning demons of pain and trauma and inflicting their wrath on all of those in your immediate proximity.

Don’t buy this book if you are a coward. If the mere prospect of unsettling the fiber of your day is far too much of a burden to bear. This kind of work exists only for those who stare into the sun in hopes of permanently denigrating their vision so they don’t ever have to look at themselves in the mirror again. The type of person who listens to music at volumes well past where the phone warns of damaging your hearing. This is the literal representation of what it feels like to suck.

This collection of sick and twisted snippets of existence feels like Harmony Korine and John Waters had a baby, but when the baby was in utero the couple took a vacation to peak 1988 Chernobyl — to see the sites. After birth, the spawn resembled the Toxic Avenger run over by a Zamboni, and was left to fester in the sewer of self doubt and insecurity until the world would accept such a tragic figure. Sure, writing makes the boy feel better, but at what cost to us?

Tex Gresham might not be for the faint of fart — I’d say heart, but the torturous methane of unwavering flatulence seems to be a much more honest approach. Truth be told, I loved every single word and image and page and idea of this cataclysmic collage. Heck, Texas contains more laugh out loud moments than whatever episode of The Office you’re watching for the 700th time. It is a truly funny work of micro-fictions meant to untether you from your crawling skin. This is nothing less than real life.

Is it damaging to those who never had a clue? Perhaps. But it also offers an honest glimmer into the nightmare that is growing up in Texas when you don’t fit the Friday Night Lights mold. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always related more to the opposite mantra: blurry eyes, empty hearts, can’t win. Seems like Tex might’ve as well.

Buy this book for the miserable son of a bitch in your life.

10/10 (but measured in sadomasochistic lashings).

140 Pages (~11K Words)