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Friday, September 14, 2012

Well, this is embarassing

Welcome all my new friends from MGoBlog. It seems my good buddy, Seth, has invited y'all over to my place for the evening. I'm thrilled you could make it. I apologize for not wearing any pants when I answered the door, but ole' Sethy-poo forgot to mention he was inviting you. Don't worry, though. Make yourselves at home.

Let me show you around. Over here on the right of your screen you'll find a bunch of short stories I've written over the last few years that have been kindly published by internet lit friends. You'll also find a little bit further down, a collection of essays I've written about bands I was in back in the day, as well as websites and music samples. If you like music, you might like that part of the website.

On the left of the screen you have a few things of mine available for purchase. Feel free to pick a couple up for your mama and papa.

In case you're wondering who I am (other than an old friend of Seth's) well, the long and short is I'm a writer of fiction things. I'm also a reader of fiction things. I was born and raised in the great state of Michigan and I went to (and graduated from) the only university in that state worth mentioning, U of M, home of the winged helmets, Diag, and outsized arrogance. I live in Atlanta now and I'm married to a Georgia Bulldog. Don't feel bad for me, it isn't all terrible. After six years I think I'm starting to get the hang of barking at opposing teams' fans. It's kind of fun, actually.

At any rate, thank you so much for stopping by. Take a look around. Read some fiction. Enjoy yourselves, and most importantly, Go Blue!

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Obligatory

 

Written in graffiti on a bridge in a park
'Do you ever get the feeling that you're missing the mark?'
It's so cold, it's so cold
It's so cold, it's so cold

Written up in marker on a factory sign
'I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine'
It's so cold, it's so cold
It's so cold, it's so cold

See the arrow that they shot,
trying to tear us apart
Took the fire from my belly
and the beat from my heart
Still I won't let go
Still I won't let go

 'Cause you, use your heart as a weapon
And it hurts like heaven

On every street, every car, every surface are names
Tonight the streets are ours and we're writing and saying
Don't let them take control
No we won't let take control

Yes, I feel a little bit nervous,
Yes, I feel nervous and I cannot relax,
How come they're out to get us?
How come they're out when they don't know the facts?

So on concrete canvas under cover of dark
Concrete canvas, I'll go making my mark
Armed with a spray can soul
I'll be armed with a spray can soul

'Cause, you use your heart as a weapon
And it hurts like heaven 

It's true

When you use your heart as a weapon
It hurts like heaven


Sunday, September 9, 2012

I don't care I don't care I care so much it hurts

I'm sure that for those of you who follow this blog, that when you see three, four, five days elapse and there is no new post you must get really sad because you know that I have likely slipped into whatever time warp crazy zone I go into that leads to three months without an update.

I'm sure that's how you all feel.

But let me assure you that these lapses of postage will be ceasing for good in the next few weeks* and that I will almost assuredly become a regular blog poster. Don't you worry about that, my friends.

One thing you should worry about, though, is that I still have not received any word about my manuscript submission. I have passed from the despair phase into the pure, agonizing depths of ennui. I just don't think about it all that often. It's something that is happening, happened.

Sometimes, though, I'll be driving or listening to something or eating a ham sandwich and I'll stop and think that I finished this book seven months ago and almost no one has read it and those who have it have not read it or commented on it and I'll muse on the black holes these little e-submissions have disappeared into and I'll feel an overwhelming sense of...well...sadness, I guess. It's actually very similar to the feeling I get when I watch my son trailing after an 8-yr old kid who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, with this little 3-yr old kid who can't do the cool things he can do but for some reason just keeps following after him. It's sad to see someone try so hard to do something when everyone can see so clearly it just isn't gonna happen. No matter what people say about doing the impossible and moving mountains and making miracles happen, there are some things that just ain't ever gonna happen. My son is 3 and he doesn't know that. He doesn't know he can't make that 8-yr old pay attention to him, or that it's gonna be several more years before he can climb those monkey bars or run that fast or throw a ball that far.

The thing is, his not knowing is exactly the thing that keeps him trying, that keeps him practicing and working hard, and that practice is why he will someday be able to do all of those things.

But then, when that day comes, he'll just want to ride a bigger bike, or climb a higher tree, or run a faster race. He'll be 8-yrs old himself then and he won't remember what he wanted when he was 3. He'll forget. All he'll know is what he wants now, and how much further he has to go.



*Most likely.