Chase Griffin is either a human being or a long-form side effect of adolescent Pynchon exposure and Radiohead bootlegs reversed through a haunted reel-to-reel. His books are unstable devices: janky cosmograms, narrative trapdoors, memory leaks from timelines best left sealed.

He is the author of:

What’s On the Menu? (Long Day Press) – A sunbaked diner diary from a schizoid restaurateur lost in linguistic heatstroke. Travelogue of the mythic unconscious served extra crispy.

How To Play A Necromancer’s Theremin (Maudlin House, with Christina Quay) – Sitcom séance meets dead media ritual. Think cursed VHS tape teaching you how to talk back to ghosts. “A manual for living in the incomprehensible.” —Becky Curl

The Ampersand Collection (Corona/Samizdat Press, forthcoming) – Two interwoven novellas: one a mystical office satire, the other a flux-rock memoir of panic, language, and burn-out.
Ampersand praise:
“I started hallucinating instantly.” —R.U. Sirius
“Wild stuff.” —Erik Davis
“Strong and unique imagination.” —Jeff Noon

Schlemiel, Gaucho (unpublished) – A footnoted metafable of grief, folklore, and epistemological goons. Motel room as mythic trap. Imagine The Book of Disquiet rewritten by a folk-sick Borges on benzos.

Named by High Times as part of the “new face of psychedelic fiction,” Griffin’s work bends genre until it ruptures. His prose loops through recursive punchlines, surreal softness, and esoteric callbacks. Fiction as mixtape, error message, confessional, séance.