Brace yourselves, fans: new publication on the way!

I have a story in the upcoming poison anthology Bitter Distillations from Egaeus Press. Expected to drop near the end of November, as I understand it. I will keep ye apprised!

[UPDATED IN DECEMBER]

I now have the contributor copies in my grubby mitts, and they do not disappoint! ‘Tis a satisfying, solid hardcover with pretty endpapers and lovely illustrations and everything you might suggest for an enchanting and tasteful volume of “poisonous tales.”

The print run is limited to 340 copies, likely to sell out, so if such objets might delight you, hesitate not to wiggle your way through our Intricate Intertubes of Modernity to procure your pleasure at any price! Hesitate NOT, I say!

Off to the races with Patreon! Two devoted Patrons already! Thank you both! One of ’em’s my Mawm!

In honor of the fact that my mother loves me, I thought I should post my story Your Mother Loves You as a free sample of my fiction. . . .

That’s not true, but I liked the sound of it. I’m posting this particular story for free because it’s short and effective: a blast of slippery weirdness that lingers awkwardly in the amygdala (but in a pleasing way, I assure you). Which is to say, it gives potential patrons a representative glimpse into my Literary Cosmos. You want more reads like that one? Better sign up!

This will be the only full free sample. Other stories will live behind the paywall.

For now, I’m busy cogitating ways to attract patrons in the coming months. (Stay tuned is what I’m saying. Also, if you have any bright ideas, shine ’em MY way, willya?)

It has been more than one official year since I planted official words in this particular e-soil, and my only excuse is that there is no excuse, as Arnold Schwarzenegger would say if I were to put my words into his mouth. (You’d have to remove that filthy cigar first, Arnie. Make room for me. Hmm, that sounds like bad gay innuendo. I take it back, but leave it up, thus having it both ways . . . that is what double entendre means, right?)

Am I still using this ridiculous Textpattern software? Why, yes! I can never remember how to use it when I return after my long absences. Formatting through markup, Jesus Fucking Christ, what is this, 2002? Did someone do a typo in the year?

Hmm, what to report? I read Thomas Pynchon last summer. Turns out, mostly REread. I always thought of myself as having barely cracked the man’s oeuvre, but it turns out I’d already read all but one of his books. And it ALSO turns out his BEST one was, drum roll, the one I omitted. So, I’ll need to reread it—eventually—to achieve parity, as well as to verify that it really is the best one. (I’m talking about Mason & Dixon here, but you know that already, natch, right?) I would also like—eventually—to reread Against the Day (which, to complicate the narrative, is the one I didn’t actually read this summer, since I’d just read it a couple years ago and it didn’t seem necessary this time around, so sue me), and then I’ll have officially read all of Pynchon’s books twice, and top THAT at your next cocktail party, amirite? Except, I never attend cocktail parties . . . in fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never been to one in my life. Probably never will. Unless this blog really explodes, of course. That makes you an A-Lister, right? When the blog gets rocket boosters? They call it the Big Time where I’m from. “How’s the view from up there?” (That’s what they sarcastically ask, standing right next to you, holding their martinis. And you answer with a placating grimace and sip your own martini and thank Goober that this is just some lame-o laboring class fantasy that’s probably going to conclude with a total whimper of a parenthesis. After all, tomorrow’s Monday.)

What else? Oh, I shall be appearing in another anthology sometime this year! Found that out today. Excellent news, but I swear I was planning this blog article anyway. The Pynchon thing is important enough to merit a bloggy shoutout, don’t you think? I will of course reveal the antho deets when those deets are knowable. Monitor this bat channel for dem ol’ deets, fam.

Ah, and according to the Eibonvale site, their release of my chapbook Furious in the Expanse should occur in “early 2020,” so monitor etcetera, and I will dole out the deets, ontology permitting. (I’m not really 100% comfortable with the definition of that word, but I feel like it’s okay to be on rocky ground when it comes to philosophy because no one else fucking knows what it fucking means either, so they’ll all get a good ol’ fucking chuckle out of it whether it’s witty or fucking not. Plus, when all else fails, “fucking” is just fucking FUNNY. Amirite?)

Not a command, but a benison.

This site is my publicity vehicle, obviously, albeit imperfectly driven. Ofttimes, I even forget to announce my announcements . . . etcetera . . . and “So what,” you ask? Precisely! But today we shall point toward other publicities just cuz.

I read Brendan Connell’s recent novel Unofficial History of Pi Wei. (Say that out loud, why don’tcha. The only way to get the joke.) Witty pastiche of Kung Fu movies and ancient Confucian / Taoist analects. (I’m no expert in either of these forms, admittedly, but the author clearly is.) As with all his work, Brendan is both irreverently creative and creatively reverent. He’s not the least bit reluctant to explore every limit of the formal constraints he’s imposed on himself. Which is the definition of art, perhaps. I should warn you this novel makes a strong case for sex with trees.

I read a wild, unexpected novel-in-stories by someone gorgeously named Ysabeau Wilce recently. Prophecies, Libels & Dreams: Stories of Califa. I had actually ordered a bunch of old mags from a local small press and they threw this book in for the hell of it, maybe as a thank you for spending so much, and it turned out to be the standout of the bunch, by far, for the ecstatic language and the colorful characters, including a charming and petulant youngster—really the best kind of literary character there is, don’t you agree?

Let’s see, I should mention the BEST BOOK I READ LAST YEAR. I don’t know yet, let me consult my listings. Okay. I’m going with Kleinzeit, by Russell Hoban. Let me tell you the story behind my reading this book. There I was at the Amherst Jones Library randomly perambulating the stacks, and my fingers arrested ’pon a particular title (being Kleinzeit, duh), and I deshimmed it from the shelf, opened it unto mine eyes, and what were the very first words I did behold? “Yarrow: fullest stock.” I shit you not. So I checked it out of that there library posthaste, of course. Promptly read it. A bold and brilliant book! Par excellence in language, form, ideas, general zaniness. Such random encounters are my stock in trade, literarily. What I’m saying is all my best literary experiences have sprung from the void. You have to allow it to happen. (And of course, it doesn’t happen online. There’s no such thing as a random encounter when algorithms are runnin’ the show. It’s all decided for you.)

Please take note of all the recent releases at Whiskey Tit. I can aver in particular that Joey Truman’s Postal Child sequel, Postal Child Parlay is an absolute delight to read, and the man’s talent continues to blossom with each new release. I didn’t see the merit of the first Postal Child when I first read it, but Truman’s subsequent releases Killing the Math and Kinderrinder corrected my impression (viz., impressed me), and Parlay is simply a sublime work of the imagination, and I’m honored to share the Tit List with this most writerly gentleman. He has a cookbook coming out now, too, which I am salivating to see!

Please also take note, I was recently notified by our old friend Robin Wyatt Dunn of his upcoming release, The Black King of Kalfour. February 1 will be the time to pounce on that volume at your favorite online emporium of ebooks or paperbacks, take your pick.

Hmm, I usually include links to things I mention, but I don’t feel like it at the moment. Manana. That doesn’t look right. Mañana? Mmm, that impertinent ñ, shaking its wiggle all over the place.

Forgot about this website thingy. But one would have—had one not forgotten—announced the forthcoming (2019) publication of one’s third book . . . a fiction collection entitled Furious in the Expanse. Not sure EXACTLY when, but probably later in the year, as you might deduce from its placement in this here list.

I love the visual sensorium of Eibonvale Press, and I used to daydream about placing work there . . . thus, when they started doing chapbooks I saw my chance! I pounced! The trap was sprung! I was in! I’m in! A thousand thank yous to David Rix, aka Mr. Eibonvale himself!

Hmm, any other news? I can’t think of any. My life is nothing but work work work, but I’m hoping to reënlist my creative faeries this year. I may have to pressgang those motherfuckers, actually, but we’ll try persuasion first, of course. First carrots, then sticks, or maybe carrots as sticks?