Thursday, December 4, 2014

"Boiling Yellowjackets"

The Red Fez has published my poem "Boiling Yellowjackets" in issue 73.  I wrote the poem in 2013.  Sadly, it is still timely in 2014.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Monster Of Party Beach Is Out!

The comedy horror movie that I was in, Monster Of Party Beach, has been released.  It's available on DVD for $5 here.  I had fun hanging out with director Mark Justice and fellow actor Tim Hale at The Ghoulardi Fest the day after Halloween.  I think Mark has some screenings of the film coming up as well.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Brent Kirby's 10 x 3 Songwriter Showcase

Years ago, one of my bands played with one of Thomas Comerford's bands.  Since then, I try to catch him when he passes through nearby.  This fall, he played a songwriter showcase hosted by Brent Kirby at Brothers Lounge, which I attended.  I thought having a showcase of ten different singer-songwriters was a pretty cool idea, so I asked to play it, which I'll be doing on November 12, 2014.  I'm scheduled for 9 p.m., but those schedules tend to shift.  The whole show starts at 8 p.m.  I'll be playing three songs that I have never played in front of an audience before, so it should be fun.  It is free to attend.

Monday, October 27, 2014

"Cheats For Common Moral Dilemmas"

Life can be complex with many decisions.  To help people out, I created a handy guide to common moral dilemmas and The Red Fez published it

Monday, October 20, 2014

New Pop Lit!

King Wenclas of the Underground Literary Alliance has a new project going called New Pop Lit.  He and his fellow editor, Andrea Nolen, have been publishing some cool stuff.  Right now, there's a story about a cat in an animal shelter up, and I really enjoyed reading it.  It seems as if they're putting together a nice literary community.  They were nice enough to publish "Brian Moves Back" by me, as well as do an interview.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

New Wred Fright Novel!


Yes, I have finished a new novel.  Don't get too excited though, as you may not be able to read it until 2017 or so.  For once, I didn't serialize a novel beforehand, and start releasing it before it was complete (I liked to work without a net).  It was kind of fun to do it in a more conventional way, so I may seek out a conventional publisher.  We'll see.  I do enjoy the whole controlfreakness of self-publishing.  Even marketing is fun, but it is time away from writing, which I like better, so I don't know what I'll decide just yet.  In any case, it's called Frequently Asked Questions About Being Dead, and it is plenty weird.  Here's a taste:

McAllister "Mac" Rose was looking at her corpse when a giant stack of pancakes holding a clipboard asked her, "Excuse me, but would you mind taking a customer satisfaction survey?"

Mac turned from the automobile wreckage and gazed upon the six-foot-tall stack of pancakes, a continuous fountain of maple syrup cascading from the top pancake onto the ones below it, ending in a pool on the white plate underlaying the entire stack, the kind of plate that's been through the dishwasher at the diner so many times that it started to wonder if that was all there was, an endless cycle of stickiness, soapiness, wetness, dryness, and stackness.  A huge glob of butter, shaped and glistening like the sun, sat on top of the stack with the clipboard, a pen dangling from it by a string, firmly lodged in the middle of it.  In Mac's head, she heard Beach Boys melodies that she had never heard before.

She felt like screaming, but, instead, she said, "What?"

Eyeballs popped out of the syrup, "Oh, you're really freaked out.  What do I look like to you?  Jesus?  Sometimes, I get bored and set my appearance to random.  Let's see.  OK, I'm pancakes.  I bet I'm delicious, but I'll change into something else.  Maybe that'll help.  You want a burning bush?  Grim Reaper?  Elvis Presley?  How about a unicorn?  Most women like unicorns."

The stack of pancakes changed into a unicorn.  The clipboard was now speared in the middle by the horn.  "Is this better?" the unicorn said, looking around at itself, the pen of the clipboard flying about every time its head moved.

"No," Mac said, her green eyes starting to tear up, "No, it's not."

"Why not?  I'm a unicorn.  You don't like the color?  I can be pink."

"No, it's not the color."

The unicorn turned pink anyway, except for the horn which turned a type of fluorescent green usually only seen in the neon signs of pawn shops and payday loan businesses.  "What do you think?" it said, but Mac had already turned away to look some more at her corpse.

The unicorn trotted up next to her and also looked at the corpse.  The front of the car that Mac's corpse was in looked like it was a map that someone who didn't know how to fold up maps properly had folded.  In the midst of the badly folded-up folds was Mac's corpse, with a cell phone still clutched in her right hand.  "Ouch," the unicorn said, "Were you texting?  I don't know why people do that.  Most people drive badly enough as is."

Mac ignored the unicorn, who, undaunted, went on to say, "At least the tree looks all right."

Mac looked at the tree that her automobile had crashed into and had to agree.  The tree did look all right.  It was a big oak tree and probably would survive the accident with just a few scars on its bark.

Mac, alas, did not look all right.  Nor did she feel all right.  Nor would she ever be all right again, she suspected.  "At least I didn't hit the deer," she mumbled, as she slumped against the remains of her car and slid down to the ground, her hands covering her face.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Ever More Glad I Voted For Gary Johnson In 2012

So the national Democrats sent me a letter asking for money.  I scribbled out a reply and stuffed it in the postage paid envelope.  I wrote, "When Obama and Congressional Democrats stop wasting tax money bombing people in the Middle East, I'll think about it.  Until then, save postage and don't ask." 

I mean if I wanted to bomb people in the Middle East, I could just vote Republican.  It would be nice to have the two major political parties offer more of a choice than bombing (Dems) and more bombing (Repubs).

The Economist this week has a great cover with Obama dressed up as George W. Bush in his Mission Accomplished fighter pilot outfit.  That about says it all.  At this point, even the biggest Obama supporter has to admit that he's little more than Bush Lite.

Bailouts for the rich.  Check.
War in Afghanistan.  Check.
Violation of civil liberties.  Check.
War in Iraq.  Check.
Deficit spending and debt growing.  Check.
Wasteful addition to government health care instead of doing something rational like setting up national health care.  Check.

I have to admit that Obama did keep his promise to close the torture facility at Guantanamo Bay.

Wait!?  He didn't? Scratch that then.  He did manage to get involved in Syria for the military-industrial complex, something that Bush wasn't able to pull off (at the height of the Iraq War giddiness in 2003, the Neocons wanted to roll into Syria, but then things fell apart), so that's something.

Something bad, but something.

I mean I could go on, but you get the idea.  The differences between the two past presidents aren't as great as their supporters try to get me to believe they are.  To me, it's the same crap.  

Do I dare hope that people who want something different won't fall for the next major party stooge (no offense to Moe, Larry, Curly, or Shemp) such as Hillary Clinton or Jeb Bush?

No.

My big decision in 2016 probably will be whether I vote Green or Libertarian.  You can laugh that I'm throwing my vote away, but look at what you're actually voting for.  If you do want something different out of the major party system, then you should get involved in the primaries and rev up a Rand Paul or Bernie Sanders.

Of course, before 2008, I might have thrown Barack Obama's name in such a suggestion, and we now know how that turned out.