New Book Placement, Life Keeps Going

New Book Placement, Life Keeps Going

This afternoon, I scored a new placement for my books. Both of them. I’m rather excited about this, so I’m telling you about it. Simple communication strategy. I write and you read. I talk and you listen. I listen and you sing to me. Hopefully you eventually show me in words, songs, and body language what I need to know. And if in case you hadn’t heard, I live in Houston, Texas. Moved here in January of the year of our Monkey 2017. So it ain’t been that long since I’ve been here. This cool little book & record store on Dunlavy and Westheimer in the heart of Montrose decided that both BEER SONGS FOR THE LONELY and GOOD FEELING SEVEN SHORT STORIES should live within their walls. That makes me happy. Please read my books. Please tell me what you think. Even if it’s something close to: Fuck you Asshole for writing this fucking Shit and bothering to get it printed on perfectly good paper that could have been used for something useful! Though obviously, I would rather you tell me I’m a genius 🙂 WIRED UP has very few books on their shelves, and they decided to carry my books. That’s really cool, and it makes me very happy… feeling funny inside like I’ve just eaten a huge breakfast and I now get to hang out on a park bench on a sunny day. I bought a copy of ROMMEL DRIVES ON DEEP INTO EGYPT (Heartworm Press 2016), by Richard Brautigan, at the book store in question while I was filling out the consignment paperwork. This collection...
Looking for readers

Looking for readers

Hey folks! What’s going on? It’s almost the end of 2016, and the start of 2017. It’s been rough, but what the hell, I’m coming out of it breathing and kicking. I started out the year homeless and working on a farm, and ended the year with a roof over my head and a car in the garage. Things are looking up. At least personally. In 2013, I set out to write and publish 1 book per year. I did good in 2014 and 2015. Now, in 2016 I did manage to write a book, unfortunately I ran out of funds and wasn’t able to publish. Which is fine. It means I have more time to make sure it’s as good as I can make it before going to press. And that’s where you come in. I need readers. I need your comments and thoughts. I need to make sure that my manuscript, SONGS OF THE ROLLIN CHATEAU is ready to become a book, and for that, I need your help. The artist Brian Wootan, and myself, are working on making SONGS OF THE ROLLIN CHATEAU a great little book. Brian is working on several illustrations that will go inside the book, as well as the front and back covers. He is also working on a couple of posters, and we will decide on at least two broadsides. Before the spring, Brian and myself will launch a crowdfunding campaign where we will pre-sell books, posters, broadsides, and private poetry & art parties at your house. Your comments will be used to first help out in finalizing the manuscript, and...
Bullies will be bullies

Bullies will be bullies

Trump is a bully, and he’s a good bully, as in he’s really good at being a bully. Bullies don’t listen to argument, far from it. They don’t need a good argument or any kind of good reasoning. A bully bullies, that’s what they do. That’s how they get things done. They bully until they get their way. That technique works great in middle school and in high school, and soon falls to the way side and the bully becomes what he truly is, a dull-minded idiot. However when the bully has always been protected by money, or at least the mirage of money, then he gets to get away with it through adulthood. People are awed by large amounts of money. They let themselves be bullied when there’s a juicy carrot at the end of the stick. That he continues to get away with it decades into his life after having failed to deliver the carrot time and time again, is unbelievably crazy to me. That just goes to prove that a large majority of our electorate are a bunch of dull-minded idiots. The same gullible dullards who keep buying into quick-money-making schemes time and time again, losing their money every single time, and going for it time and time again. If you put your hand through those bars, that snake is gonna bite you. Really? Yup, I promise you. Okay, are you sure? Try it. Okay. Yup, that snake bit me, and it hurts. The following week. You think that snake is gonna bit me again, if I put my hand through those bars? I don’t know....
It’s not the story, it’s how you tell it

It’s not the story, it’s how you tell it

The story doesn’t matter. It is all in the application of the words on the page. The way they come together one after the other. What matters is not the story or the plot; what matters is the writing itself, the telling of the story is more important than the story itself. Most writers have to have a story. The greatest writers don’t need a story at all, they can keep you captivated without a narrative. The good, even most of the great writers, need a story, a narrative of some kind to help keep their words together with meaning. The bad writer needs a great narrative, and the better you are, the simpler your narrative can be. The genius writer needs no narrative at all. Most of us are not geniuses. Unfortunately, many a mediocre writer thinks they’re great. It’s mostly delusion. In fact, most writers are barely qualified to write a wedding thank-you card. Those writers, and by those writers I mean 99% of all us writers, need some sort of narrative to hold our thoughts together. When they try to write without a narrative, they fail miserably, and what they put out is no better than public masturbation, which is no fun at all for the audience. Unless, of course, you’re a really good public masturbator. There’s an exception to every rule, otherwise what would be the point? You could be a great masturbator and still be only a descent storyteller, and a horrible writer. As long as you’re good at something, that’s what matters to keep the audience interested. Just to make sure I don’t...
An Afternoon Stroll to the Library

An Afternoon Stroll to the Library

The other day, I walked to the Perry–Castañeda Library (PCL) on UT campus. Twenty minute walk from where I live. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside that building. Curiously, I’ve lived a great amount of my little life walking distance from the University of Texas, and have hardly ever gone there. I guess it’s kind of normal as I am not nor have I ever been a student at that university. And not so strangely, I’ve always assumed that UT is mostly for the students who attend classes and the professors who teach them, as well as the army of folks it takes to administer to the campus and those two groups. What I didn’t know is that the library, probably the best library in the city of Austin, is open to the public. Isn’t that cool? So why would I take on such a journey in our balmy 95+ degree Central Texas weather? A couple of weeks ago, I met a friend of a friend of mine who works at PCL. She’s a librarian, and she is in charge of a tiny little corner of the this massive garguantan library (6 floors, each of which is hundreds of thousands of square feet, massive is an understatement). The five hundred square feet she is in charge of is called the UT Poetry Center. It’s tucked away in a massive study room where what seems like thousands of tables are gathered as well as a couple of computer labs, each furnished with hundreds of the latest fastest best computers available. There, in a corner as if an afterthought, a...
The epic poem is brewing…

The epic poem is brewing…

Very little changes. And yet everything keeps going forward. Your presence is not necessary. That’s the way of the world. Be happy. Back in Austin! It’s like I’ve never left, well, except that I live in an RV now. Finding places to park at night is going to be an issue for a few weeks, until I can afford to anchor the Rollin Chateau at an RV park. In the mean time, I am working on a feature article (to be published this spring), and I’m reading a lot. I’m really itching to work on my book of poems… soon! By next month, my little bohemian life should be somewhat stabilized, as long as I can find somewhere to park my rig with at least one electrical outlet… you know, enough to brew some coffee, heat up a can of soup, and keep the beer cold… Tuesday, I stopped in at my favorite bookstore. Malvern Books on 29th street. I tell you what, I’ve travelled close to 6500 miles just recently—don’t know if you’ve heard—and I stopped at every book peddler I could find along the way. Malvern Books is, as far as I can tell, the best bookstore this side of the Mississippi. I bought their last copy of Vale Hale, by H.D. It’s part of a cool new series of chap-books by New Direction Publishing (read up on them here in The New Yorker… great article that proves the bottom line shouldn’t be the only worry of great publishers, publishing great works of literature should be the number one goal of ANY publishing company… anyway…). XXIX I...