They Shoot Salads, Don’t They?

I’ve got a new humor/memoir piece up this month at Wraparound South about the very first vision board ever created, satin formalwear, signing things in my own blood, cannibal mice, and SaladShooters.  My life when I was thirteen, basically.

You can read it here:  They Shoot Salads, Don’t They?

The amazing part is that this issue of Wraparound South is described by the editor like this:

“This issue, though not strictly a themed issue, orbits around that mirrored labyrinth that is perception – of culture, of race, of personal values, of ambition… As humans, we seem to have the ability to see ourselves mirrored in every situation, blind to our own reflection and to the illusions that we project about the spaces we inhabit.”

You will find this doubly amusing after you read my story.  🙂

I’m never not fascinated that these literary folks let dirtbag me into their world, but I’m so thankful that they do.

As always, thanks for hanging out here with me and being awesome and stuff – and hey – it’s almost October!  That means it’s time for Nicolas Cage and his not even remotely passable wig in:

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Season of The Witch!

 

 

The Smiting of Wyatt Stupid Face

I wrote a piece about growing up poor and how I exacted revenge on a young man who made fun of me for it.  It’s one of my favorite funny pieces and it’s very near and dear to my cold, steely heart.  I’d been looking for a good home for it for a long time and I didn’t want to trust it with just anyone.

It finally found the perfect home right here on good ol’ page 44: The Smiting of Wyatt Stupid Face

Hand to Mouth is a special edition zine dedicated to writers responding to living in poverty, and is hosted by Kissing Dynamite.  This issue is full of poetry, creative nonfiction (that’s what I do, suckas), and artwork – and you should read it cover to cover and support the heck out of it because they’re good people doing good in the world…

…unlike me, a person who basically works for pizza money and unfettered mirror-time.

This means that you’re a good person if you print it out 10,000 times, wallpaper the entire inside of your house with it, invite me over, I’ll walk in and get freaked out that you’re a stalker, then pepper spray you and kick you in the jimmies with a sensible shoe.

And won’t that be a story to tell at your next court-ordered group therapy session.

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If you’re not already following this blog, go ahead and click the “Follow” button on the home page and you’ll get a nifty email anytime I post new stuff on here, usually about once a week.  I won’t go blowing up your email unlike certain people named Old Navy those denim-clad sons of bitches.  Who needs five emails a day from Old Navy??? We’re breaking up!  I don’t even care how well your Rock Star stretch jeans fit.  WE’RE DONE.

That’s a huge lie.  I will never quit Old Navy.

You can also follow me on Twitter at @romcomdojo.

I ALMOST FORGOT!

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This Joker Who Wants to Kiss Your Mother

Hey sassafrases!  The folks over at jmww journal were kind enough to give a home to a little nonfiction humor piece I wrote about the first guy who showed up to take my mom on a date when I was a kid.

You can read it on the jmww site here: This Joker Who Wants to Kiss Your Mother

About The Journal:  “jmww is a weekly journal of writing publishing the best in fiction, poetry, flash, essays, interviews, and reviews (or a close approximation).”

Fancy!!!

A Reminder About Me:  I have no idea how a dirtbag like me got accepted there, I’m just honored as hell that they shook me out of the pile, dusted me off, and gave me a shot.

Special thanks to the illustrious Alle C. Hall, Senior Nonfiction Editor at jmww and a stunningly good writer, for her excellent guidance, ideas, and expert honing in editing this piece.  You can check out her blog here: About Childhood

As always, thanks to all of you for being so awesome.  You’re all so supportive and kind and funny and I can’t thank you enough for hanging out with me here every week!  More published work coming next week!

And here’s the obligatory Nicolas Cage photo.  Because.

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