15 November 2022

my sweet turkish friends demet and kerem and aysu at the overlook in ankara where i walked up to them and asked if i could bum a cigarette :,-)

13 November 2022

My novella

GRITT CALHOON
AND THE
BLOODBATH BENEATH
MOUNT TERROR

is done. I wrote it years ago, but this is the final “deluxe” version . . . which I completed last summer, but only just got around to posting it in its entirety here. I put a lot of work into it! It’s either the best or worst thing I’ve ever written. I had a lot of help editing it, so thanks to everyone who JUMPED IN THE DOC when I shared it back in May. If I sent it to you and you didn’t finish it, you’re an absolute coward and you’re not invited to my birthday party. (Just kidding!!!)

Listen: I have to warn you that this thing is insane space trash. My spirit-brother Delicious McCune said this while he was reading it:

I’m not saying I’ve invented a new kind of fiction! But it is this conflation of protein-packed freak meat insanity that is nonetheless sincere. It’s not a “joke” even though it could easily be read as much. You just gotta see for yourself. Whatever it may be to you, I hope you enjoy it. OK? If it terrifies you in some way, well . . . isn’t that a sign of all great art?? Or maybe it is genuinely terrifying. I’m not gonna spoil it!

This is what you’re getting yourself into should you decide to read it:

Disgusted with language itself, Gritt stood up and yanked the silk sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his thick-ass waist. He padded across the plush baby-soft carpet towards a large plate glass window on the other side of the room, leaving craterous footprints in his wake. He put his big-ass hands on his big-ass hips and surveyed the sleepy city to which he was utterly indifferent. Gritt mindlessly flexed his pecs and abs and butt in perfect harmony. The sheet stretched and snapped and was torn asunder. It fell to the floor like a half-remembered dream, revealing Gritt’s Grecian buttocks and bronzed thighs. His tan was deep and perfect; it spread evenly across his robust constellation of hardy meat-parts. The South American sun had done him good. Gritt looked fantastic.

This thing represents probably 100+ hours of work. I am giving it away for free. But if you wanna throw a few bucks my way so I can buy cat food . . . I ain’t gonna stop you:

Now I can finally finish the third Gritt tale, compile all three into an anthology, and then write a 400-page Gritt novel. After that I guess Homeland Security will probably arrest me.

Back to work!!!