Slam

I’m old now, and out of touch, but when we were kids we called it moshing, or slam, or maybe just the pit.  We didn’t really ever call it dancing, though that was what it really was, just a movement to the music, a release, an expression of ourselves, a bunch of lost kids, angry and disappointed with the world.  To an observer, it looks violent, and sometimes it is, if you get a drunk in there flailing his elbows around, or some tourist jock type dude that saw it on movies or something and just wants to push people around,...

Effigy

What you do when someone leaves you behind is, you dig a hole, you line it with rocks. You take the bricks left over from when you built that flower bed by the side of the house, you lay them out around the hole.  You don’t think about the flowers, you don’t think about how they died, how they didn’t get enough sun where you built the bed, how they withered and wasted away. You go inside and you gather all the things, the tiny hurtful things, the hair clip from between the cushions of the couch, the sock from...

Thoughts on the eve of the launch of my first novel:

Tomorrow, my book launches.  It will pass from my hands into yours, the readers, and it will no longer be my little secret, the little thing that I am proud of and happy about.  It will be yours, to do with as you wish.  Right now I’m sitting at my computer after having already sat in an office chair for eleven hours today for my day job.  I’m sitting here thinking about what all this means, if it means anything at all, what I’m feeling if I could only understand what I’m feeling, how I am supposed to be feeling....

In a Mood

I knew you had the blade when I turned my back on youthe straight razor with the pearl handle, stolen from your grandfather’s old shaving kitI knew you were behind me, knew you were not going to let me walk out and when I felt the cold steel whisper on my throat,I knew this was the way it had to be:your breath, hot in my ear, sayingI love you. So I’m in a mood.  I am filled with anger, and when I am, this is what comes out. In the white room, there is silence, solitude  When I cut my...

REVIEW TIME!!!

One of the unexpected side effects of declaring yourself a writer is that you are then expected to know something about writing and give handy advice to novice writers as if we are not all just winging it and hoping for the best.  I have no real advice except this: finish your shit, work until it is done.  Other than that, do whatever works for you, whether it is writing in the basement of a monastery at midnight or while driving a eighteen-wheeler across country or on the back of a damn dragon as it lays siege to the Impenetrable...