The first two months of the year have already flashed by. The battle royal for the presidential nomination continues to be a traveling circus of buffoonery. Another shooting occurred on the East side. My bank account is dwindling and my blood pressure is rising. If I were an optimistic sort I would reckon the year could only vastly improve from here. If I were an optimistic sort I doubt my inconsequential ramblings would be as entertaining for those of you out there taking a break from the free porn or cat videos on Youtube. While I may not occupy the most self-affirming corner of this here internet, I like to believe I offer a little something more than the skewed factoids and memes that go viral. That little something is some god-damn honesty. The world sucks. People suck. You either learn to carve out a meager life worth living or just say fuck it and learn to tie a noose. Hopefully you opt for the meager life. Not because I give a shit, but because I have so few readers as it is and I appreciate you wasting some time on my words.
Speaking of which, a number of new pieces were rescued from the wild recently. Unfortunately they can’t be tamed, but they will sit still long enough for you to feast your eyes upon them.
- On February 16, Dead Snakes brought two of my poems to the masses. Landmines and A Walk Through Old-Town were chosen to be featured, and I thank this kick ass poetry site for allowing me some shelf space. Both poems touch on the despondency and uncertainty we face as we waltz through this crazy life. Unfortunately there’s no road map to success and some of us find ourselves making wrong turns here and there. These two pieces tell it like it is. Nothing more and nothing less.
- A short story of mine entitled Steer into the Sunset was published by Cultured Vultures on February 19, bringing a raw piece of my soul and background to those who are interested. Coming from a broken home is never easy. Having an outlet to work through some of the long-term ramifications keeps me from putting my head through the plate glass. I sweat blood for everything that I write, and this short story is no exception.
- On March 1st The Corvus Review released its Winter issue, and with it my story about trippin’ balls A Response to Mushrooms. If there is any advice I can pass on to the younger generation it would be this: hash and acid do NOT mix. Download issue 4W’16 (for free!) and educate yourself on the effects of such a potent combination on page 91. Party on and make sure you ingest one mind-altering chemical at a time. Trust someone who can tell you a thing or two about a bad trip…
- Bread Crumbs from the Void, my weekly tough love article for Five 2 One Magazine just wrapped up its first month. So far I’ve covered the grueling practice of submitting your work for publication, the reprehensible act of schmoozing and networking, how to survive the wilds of rejection, and evaluating the quality of your own work. To be clear, this is NOT an instructional column. I will never profess the secrets and mysteries of writing can be distilled into a curriculum. You can learn form and function, but I believe the best work throws that shit out the window. There are a ton of topics yet to be covered. See what I’m venting about every Wednesday on the Five 2 One site!
Decades of (in)Experience is already over four months deep! Considering the illustrated serialized flash fiction weekly (for lack of an existing term) began as an experiment with my publisher Antix Press, we could not be more fucking proud of the progress. The feature, as well as its anti-hero Luke, will continually evolve, distort, and defy expectations. There may be some rather exciting things in store for Decades of (in)Experience, including the possibility of a print collection. If I may so humbly request, be sure to tell everyone—scumbag friends, prison pen-pals, grandmother’s depends-changers—about the feature. Without y’all we’re just a couple of curmudgeons telling each other dirty jokes.
Thanks for hanging. Now throw a few back for hump day! I know I’m going to. Later, skaters.