Tag Archives: whiskey
Autumn 2021 Releases: The western epic continues and the weird poetic journey of a murderer(?), and a little about the future…
I wasn’t going to finish what is now A Cage for the Wind. I wrote most of it from December of 2020 until August of 2021, and most of that was written while dealing with some very difficult-to-navigate emotional strife on the homefront. I won’t go into details, and I don’t have to, I don’t think; much of how that all went down literally bled out onto the pages of A Cage for the Wind in its own way. Continue reading
Whiskey thoughts
Currently, it’s 1:48 a.m. on the dot, and I’m drinking my third glass of Jameson Black Barrel poured from a decanter in the fashion of a glass-blown ship in a bottle (I’m running out, too. I’ll probably pick up a … Continue reading
“This was the year that I fell in love with a tornado…”
Do stick figures dream of a third dimension? If they do, that dream springs forth from the creative mind-womb of Julian Porter in the form of his debut novella Hibakusha Don’t Eat Pop-tarts. On the surface, which is not completely … Continue reading
Poetry Review- Scott Laudati’s “Camp Winapooka”: A Nostalgiamageddon of Honest Stitchery and Confluence
My reading relationship with Scott Laudiati is still of a fairly young age; I’ve read Bone House while staying in downtrodden motels for work trips and fell in some kind of love I can’t yet describe. So like any curious … Continue reading
In peeling back the skin on the monster, beneath the lizard scales she’s got perfect, silicone-free breasts, but when her mouth opens all I hear is: “NIGHTWORK”. I don’t want to like her, but I don’t want her to hate me either.
The adjustment is the real killer. Going from a daytime routine to picking up the wrenches and climbing behind the wheel of the truck, driving into the night so you can blast some holes in walls and maybe get something … Continue reading
Tonight is all about channeling a little rage, and that guy’s blood is still smeared all over the road outside; it looks like some car’s oil pan gave up on life and splattered all of its aspirations all over the concrete
Every time I hear a noise outside the front door, I race to the peep hole and stick my eye as close to the void as I can. The inside of the glass eyepiece is dirty and around the rim … Continue reading
Six years later, thicker beard, looser composure
It’s been nearly six whole goddamn years since my last post, so I don’t know what the exact circumstances, causes, or logistics of my “blogging” sabbatical were. I think it may have had something to do with belligerence on my … Continue reading
Motel, Money, Murder, Madness: Notes from Dave Matthes 