My story “Flesh and Blood” is in Pantheon Magazine’s latest anthology, Gaia: Shadow & Breath, sharing good company with the humble/super talented Richard Thomas, the sick as fuck illustrations of Luke Spooner, and other authors I’m psyched to read. Pantheon kicks ass. Look how ill that cover is. “Flesh and Blood” is about lost love and a dysfunctional family, but with people who have wooden skeletons/flashbacks told through grindhouse picture reels inside a woman’s head/sex that’s probably more sad than erotic. Check it out and read everything in it while drooling over Spooner’s incredible art.
“And for a couple seconds, it was scary–like that meant the world was breaking, or expired, or bruised, or something worse.
It was really scary for a couple seconds but then I calmed down.” -Sam Pink, Witch Piss
This book and I are related. I’ve laughed my ass off reading it in the Houston and Dallas bus stations, sandwiched between a tweaker obsessed with my tattoos and a sumo redneck obsessed with burping in my face. I’ve put it down and saved it for private readings when tears were threatening to erupt from my eye sockets like emotional geysers. The characters have been vivid reminders of the cats I’ve kicked it with on the streets of H-Town and Texarkana. Two of which I ran into again this past weekend: Jimmy–who sat next to me on the bus to Norman and kicked the shit and slept/drooled on my shoulder–and Malik, who caught me coming back into Houston and offered his trademark illegal taxi service (good to know he’s still running it) to afford his stay at the Bunker house.
“Nah, I’m good, Malik. Got a truck waiting for me.”
“Kelby? Whooooo shee-damn, nigga, you got more ink!”
The next fifteen minutes consisted of catching up a little and talking about “fake-ass niggas” and hustling and the mystery of the human spirit. Fifteen minutes, yeah. Dude talks fast.
So yeah, Witch Piss, coming full circle. Not since Low Down Death Right Easy by J David Osborne–a man who bleeds passion and talent, is cool as shit to kick it with, and has my utmost respect–has a novel slugged me in the chest so hard because of how well it resonated with my personal life.
This isn’t a review, though, but a revelation (?)/epiphany (?)/moment of clarity (?)
Words have saved my life. I’ve always been into art, with early dreams of being a career rock star (ha ha) and brief moments of contentment found in painting and bizarre photo shoots, but writing has become an addiction. Befriending a small circle of misfit geniuses who share that same passion is inspiring and has given me a sense of purpose. Which is huge. I’ve found purpose as a dad of three unique and incredible kids, but a continuing struggle of anxiety disorder/depression/other shit has kept any feelings of self-worth consistently low, or non-existent, until recently.
It’s still a grueling journey, but the direction has shifted from bottom-dwelling to pushing uphill.
To relevant family members, friends, fellow writers, and writers I’ve come to know as friends, thank you. You guys and ladies mean the world to me.
The Oddville Press is back, bitch! And yours truly is a part of it. Volume II, Issue I is available to read/download for free here. My story “Jar” is on page 20, right in the middle of other great stories and artwork.
I read this in a day. I can say that for a lot of books, but still. Could not put it down, and that is due largely to the fact that it feels like one gigantic scene almost. I don’t even see the point in chapter breaks for this book, but that isn’t to say it’s drawn out. Not at all. In fact, it moves so swiftly, never stopping to take a breather, never going off track. Grab onto something tight and let this motherfucking insane novel lurch you forward with its motherfucking beautiful, almost whimsical prose, straight into the mouth of a motherfucking shark that is going to motherfucking eat you, motherfucker.
XXX SHAMUS is the smartest piece of trash I’ve ever read. It’s also the sleaziest work of art. I’ll be scrubbing this filthy feeling off of me for months, but it’s worth it, and at some point I’ll dive back in to these seedy (oh yeah, that kind of seed) pages.
Hopper is one of my favorite characters to come out of noir fiction in a long time. He’s likable, timid, introverted, and yet he’s a sex machine, an addict and a magnet. Though the raunchy hardcore sex is probably what most will remember this book by (and can’t blame them, it’s unforgettable, whether that’s a good or bad thing), the story is twisty in a subtle, slow burning way. The narrative is gripping, Hammond’s voice alluring. And the characters are all layered and interesting, no matter how big or small a role they play.
This is a disgusting masterpiece.
Alone and slipping into paranoia. Obsessed with mannequin neighbors and family members, with a wet-dry vac, robot arms, and killing people delivered to his doorstep. This is William Colton Hughes, the serial killer who never leaves his apartment, and he’s been waiting for you to come and knock on his door.
SGJ always grabs me, but this may be the most gripping voice he’s ever tapped into. Billy is a darker, more complex, somehow strangely relatable type of serial killer than any other in literature.
And the things he does with the bodies… Conversations he has over the phone with Dashboard Mary… I won’t spoil anything.
Read this in one sitting. Get lost in it. But be sure to shower afterwards, as this is grimy and gory territory, but oh, is it wonderful in the most sinister of ways.
Dark, romantic, raw, disturbing. Jones never, ever flinches or pulls punches with LEAST OF MY SCARS, which just may be his best work to date, and that is saying a lot.
Let’s imagine THE MATRIX and Super Mario Bros. had a baby delivered by a scientist in a meme hospital. Yeah, bizarre. That’s what CHEAT CODE FOR GOD MODE is.
Ridiculous. Hilarious. Clever.
Mixed with the geeky humor is some commentary on creation, evolution, and what it means to be human. But mostly this is an insanely fun read that moves at breakneck speeds. Fun is the word to best describe this book.
Fun, fun, fun.
If you’re a geek, that is. Or at all into social networking or video games. If not, you may be a bit in the dark. But who’s to say you won’t still enjoy this awesome sauce cooked up by the newly discovered Andy de Fonseca? I’m not going to say that. Hell no.
Read and laugh hysterically.