My book, The Underground Dogs, won first place in the Dystopian category in The BookFest awards! Yay!
I was so surprised! I’m so happy! Yay!
If you’d like to check the book out, visit my Amazon page.
My short story collection, Nine Tales, is now available on Amazon. The e-book version will be up and available in a couple days.
Check it out! 🙂
Like Professor Farnsworth says, I have good news. One of my short stories has been picked up for publication. It will be broken up into two parts; the first part will run on June 12. It’s my time travel story. And it happens to be one of the stories I’d like to include in my short story collection.
I’m also cruising on this new novel. It’s also, surprise, sci-fi. It’s pretty rad.
More later. I desperately need get back into the swing of things here.
This is non-fiction, fiction.
…Figure that one out.
I stay up all night,
watching the History Channel tell me about
all the presidents and what made them
(or didn’t make them)
a great leader.
It’s a marathon,
a marathon of watching me
grow more apathetic with every
click of the goddmaned
(I hate that clock…
I guess I don’t care—
enough to get rid of the clock,
I live off coffee and cigarettes
like some teenage model with
But I’m content,
to thin, and
sink farther into upholstery.
Maybe by the time I emerge
as a tattered little butterfly,
the world will be long-gone.
Maybe I’ll find an unused stick
buried in these cushions.
Worth a shot.
Max Sullivan collects people.
He sits, day in and day out, on the edge of the marble fountain in center square, and watches. He calculates the movement of every passersby; he has learned to read the movements of his fellow man. He waits, sometimes for hours, until he spies the perfect specimen. Sometimes they are young; sometimes they are old.
Once, it was a 40-year-old woman who had broken the heel of her shoe. She carried the sandal in her hand and a look of despair on her face. She seemed uncomfortable in her tight skirt and low-cut blouse. It was dark blue and scattered with small, yellow flowers. By Max’s standards, she wore far too much makeup. She was trying much too hard to be something she was not. He captured her to remind himself that humans are a desperate creature.
One Tuesday, Max was in awe of a young man with dark black hair. He waltzed from his executive high-rise with an earpiece in his ear, and greed and sophistication in his eyes. He stepped over a homeless man by a garbage can; pushed pigeons from his path with shiny leather shoes. Max captured him to remember that human beings are cruel.
Today, it is an older woman with graying hair and graying eyes that catches Max’s attention. She walks with a cane and hunches as she makes her way to the bench. She smiles as her long journey ends, and pulls out bread for the birds. Max moves close by. He likes the way she smiles. He looks to make sure no one is watching and lifts his hand. He presses the shutter and is pleased with the image. She reminds him that humans are not that bad.
Max scrolls through his pictures and disappears into the crowd. He will collect again tomorrow.