EDIT: Donald Trump is still a loser

I was wrong.

It turns out that America wanted  a sexist, racist, crude, mean, inept, KKK-supported, fake-wealthy, sexual harassing, sexual assaulting, tiny-handed, thin-skinned, sad, lonely bully as the president of the United States.

But that doesn’t make him any less of a loser.

Donald Trump is a Loser is a a reminder of how we let a clown into office, and hopefully a guidebook on how to prevent it from happening again. It is the phrase “Donald Trump is a loser” typed out 10x times in an effort to SEO that shit IRL. It’s word art, collage, news clips and short fiction, chronicling what will probably be the rise to the darkest time in American history.

I want to keep it in print because the freedom of ideas is still important. Freedom of press is still essential. Just because I was wrong, and he won the election, doesn’t make this book wrong. Donald Trump is a loser and will forever be.










Post Apocalypse

The fine folks over at [PANK] put up a story that I’d been chipping away at for a long time. It’s called “Post Apocalypse” and continues my obsession with post-apocalyptic themes that I’ve been writing about for the past year.

You can also listen to me read the story on [PANK]’s site, which is a really cool feature. I spent about three days recording my voice (yeesh) and adding sound effects to make it a nice production. Realize it’s a little long (about 30 mins) but, I dunno… maybe you can stream it through your iphone on the commute or something.

(read/listen to the story here)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Spotlight on Clydestown

Did you ever want to know what goes into conceiving and producing a narrative story told in real-time using a calendar as a backbone?

Catch the Light, a site dedicated to showcasing artists around San Diego, has chosen to focus its spotlight on my and Jay Wertzler’s Clydestown Society of Mystery and Intrigue Presents: 2011, our ode to serial storytelling, multi-platform media and mysteries.

Hold Steady Writing Prompt

As mentioned below, I’m currently enrolled in an online writing workshop put on by the guys at Barrelhouse. This week, the prompt came from editor Dave Housley (I hope he doesn’t mind I’m posting this), who had us work off this line: “He’s got the pages in his pockets that he ripped out of the Bible from his bedstand in the motel.”

The line comes from the Hold Steady song “Cattle and the Creeping Things” (which, itself, is part of a larger narrative–Separation Sunday. Check it out.)

Anyway, here’s what I did. Feel free to add your own in the comments!

“He’s got the pages in his pockets that he ripped out of the Bible from his bedstand in the motel.”

“Anything else?”

“Sorry, Alan. Perhaps he didn’t realize the gravity of the situation.”

“No one informed him?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Alan, a man of great wealth and little faith, turned to the stranger that had been delivered to him. The man stood a little over six feet tall and wore a fedora that shadowed his features. A black shirt, jeans and leather jacket was all he wore. Alan had expected a clergy robe. He tried not to sound angry or impatient: “Do you know what’s happening here?”

The stranger’s head dipped. “Believe so. Daughter’s sick, right?”

A muffled scream seeped through ceiling above them. The sound of glass, shattering.

“You could say that.” Alan looked at the bishop, the one responsible for bringing this stranger into his house.

The bishop shrugged. “He’s our last resort.”

Alan rubbed his thumbs into his eyes and sighed deeply. “Listen Mr…” and when the stranger didn’t fill the blank, he went on. “Have you done anything like this before?”

The stranger looked up to the ceiling, where all the noise was coming from. Light fixtures shook and their illuminations flickered. “Twice,” he said after a long while. “One time worked, the other time didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘didn’t’?”

“She’s dead.”

Alan’s legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed into the carpet. The bishop motioned as if to pick him up, but Alan brushed him away and sobbed into his arms crossed atop the knees.

“Well, would you at least like a whole Bible?” asked the Bishop. “You could use mine if you want.”

“Nope. Got the pages I need.”

Alan was still sobbing on the floor. “Goddamnit,” he repeated. “Gddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit…”

The stranger stood above him, took cigarette out and lit it. “Indeed,” he said. He took the folded Bible pages out of his pocket and began reciting them—practicing as he climbed the stairs to the daughter’s room.

Barrelhouse Online Workshop

Pretty excited to be doing this. It feels like I like the idea of literary journals more than actual publications. It seems like the ones with good writing are made by people who have no eye for design (writers) and their publications look too homey and grandfatherly. And I know that that shouldn’t matter, because it’s what’s inside that counts, right?

On the other hand, some of the well-designed ones I’ve seen are quite experimental. Not that I can’t hang, but who really wants to read four-hundred pages of stories that deconstruct narrative but offer nothing to take away?

Barrelhouse is one of few publications to achieve a good balance of both design and content (I’m always open to suggestions). They pick good artists and the writing is actually… fun (does it ruin my [little] literary cred to say that?). And anyone who promises free beer to contributors is okay in my book.

So yeah, I can’t wait to see what tricks they have up their sleeve. The ones that they’re willing to share, at least. I think there are a couple spots in the workshop still open, so…

The Passage

Just read The Passage by Justin Cronin and was pretty blown away. Didn’t think I would enjoy a vampire novel amidst the post-Twilight over-saturation, but I was intrigued of the idea that a “more-literary” writer was going to take a  stab (heh) at the genre. I haven’t had 700 pages go by that fast since Dan Simmons’ The Terror.

I really hate to use the term “more-literary” because that seems to undermine some of my favorite authors. Stephen King, for example, is such a master storyteller and his craft is so pure, but he tends to get a little silly whenever he attempts lyricism or poetic language in his stories. But The Passage is full of very lush, almost florid, language.

Cronin also brings some interesting ideas to vampire lore, which I feel is an attribute to his intrepidity in the horror terrain (god, how much do I sound like an annoying fanboy: vampire lore! *Pushes up glasses*). He’s puts an emphasis on the vampires (called “virals”) losing their identity when they turn, or co-opting a collective identity which accounts for their hostility. And there is little, if any, sexuality surrounding Cronin’s virals. I’m so tired of the vampire-as-sex symbol in pop culture.
Favorite lines (pg 715):

And in that moment Michael realized that the place where he kept his fear was empty. He… wasn’t afraid. What he felt was more like anger–a huge, weary irritation, such as he might have felt for a fly that had been buzzing around his face too long. Goddamnit, he though, guiding his hand to the sheath on his belt. I am so tired of these fucking things. Maybe there are forty million of you and maybe there aren’t. In the next two seconds, there’s going to be one less.

So yeah, can’t really recommend this book enough.