I am deeply in love with David. We are getting married in Capricorn season 2027.
p.S. I recall the name of the magazine. It was NEW WOMAN. You can find back issues at eBay.
I am deeply in love with David. We are getting married in Capricorn season 2027.
p.S. I recall the name of the magazine. It was NEW WOMAN. You can find back issues at eBay.
Technically it's a novella. The word count is about 33K. The page count is 111. I do not recall when the title came to me but it's my favorite title of any book I've written. Pictured below (I know writers are obsessed with such things) is one of the scribbled pages of the rough draft and my favorite pen (the only pen I use, I order it in bulk each year), the Pilot Precise V5 Extra Fine Rolling Ball.
Before Zero Bueno there was Fuckerbutt Happy Time, a novel I described as "field research disguised as fiction." I remember scribbling the rough draft in various notebooks in my studio apartment in San Antonio and in the guest cabin on my mother's ranch wearing footed Tinkerbell pajamas. I love the ending. It was a relief.
And before Fuckerbutt Happy Time there was Bullshit Rodeo, which was born in a butterfly journal in the Albuquerque Sunport in July of 2010. You can read the words but you will never see all the bones. You will never see all the blood. Spoiler alert: The dead butterfly did not make it to Heaven.
With Zero Bueno I am finally done with the blood and the bones. The restless ghosts of Texas and California can find some other bitch to haunt. Some other bitch can scribble it all down then type it up, tear her hair out strand by strand over the formatting and the uploading process, revise it a few times and promote the hell out of it on YouTube/Twitter/Blogger/Facebook/Instagram. Good luck and godspeed.
Muchas gracias and an infinity of love to David for believing in me, encouraging me, bullying me, reminding me, loving me, feeding me, finding me, fucking me...and for being my first reader, editor, publisher, reviewer, promoter. Yesterday he showed me the review he wrote for the poetry anthology (Sirens: Five Femme Fatale Poets) in 2008 when he was just a guy I was talking to on MySpace.
None of this seems real but I assure you it is. Someday a movie will be made if this planet lasts long enough. Vaya con dios, muchachos.
Perfection is a lie but I've got Virgo rising, Mars in Capricorn and a tenth house Saturn and David has Capricorn rising and Saturn in Capricorn. We endeavor. I presented David with the files then got the hell out of his way. He worked his magic and I am so grateful.
Buy it, bitches. Gracias.
I was sitting in a booth at the McDonald’s on Fredericksburg Road slurping melted ice cream when Debbie began bombarding me with text messages. I didn’t have time for her bullshit so I turned off my piece of shit Samsung Galaxy and soaked in the bliss of the moment, slurping melted vanilla ice cream looking out the window at the Tower of The Americas hazy in the distance. Sometimes I love living in this city. I donated plasma three days ago so I can afford this treat.
Debbie writes poems about me, says she’s in love, but I just enjoy fucking her on occasion with my basic American five inch cock. I don’t delude myself. The best I can hope for is a mediocre sex life with a bat shit crazy poet covered in ugly tattoos and the occasional McDonald’s or Dairy Queen or Sonic treat. I work as a cashier at the Five Below on the upper level of Wonderland. I’ve never taken an IQ test but I’m probably a few points above retarded. Not severely retarded. Functioning retarded, like most Texan Americans.
(title of the piece is DUMPING DEBBIE)