Like most things, I’m not quite sure when I started loving bat-shit crazy things. I used to pride myself on enjoying things that could be considered “high class”. At one point I even made it a priority to inform people that American Beauty was my favorite movie. Yet, now that I’m getting to an age when it’d make sense for that to hold my top spot for cinema, I have to say that I’d probably choose to watch Kingsman: The Secret Service over American Beauty 9 out of 10 times. Continue reading
I don’t often write reviews, mostly because I don’t feel confident in my ability. Yet sometimes, something comes along and I feel compelled to overcome my fears and share my opinion. This happened to be the case when it came to The Ocean At The End Of The Lane by Neil Gaiman.
Neil Gaiman is a name I’ve heard a lot or over the years and for good reason. He’s prolific in every medium he creates in, from graphic novels to traditional prose. I had just never read anything by him. But a newfound desire to read everything I had missed due to years of Youtube gorging set me on the path towards this book. Once there though this novel wrapped itself around not only who I am but who I once was before I understood 401ks. So much so, that it’s difficult to examine elements of this story without doing the same to myself. Continue reading
There’s nervous hands, folding over each other instead of reaching out for a partner. There’s innocent eyes, acting guilty. Of course there’s talk of topics that have nothing to do with what is desired. It’s rock and roll. It’s the movies. Maybe it’s in an empty house, or on the floor surrounded by others. If tradition is important then it’s happening in a car. If luck is there, then there’s lips touched with the taste of stolen wine, beer, or candy flavored vodka. The only obstacles left are teenage nerves and the center console. Damned are those who drive stick shifts. The poets with their quills or guitars have already given the instructions. All that’s left is the kiss, then…
Everything. Continue reading
I don’t intend to use this blog to advertise every episode of my podcast. But, this may be one of the few exceptions. In our latest episode, Owen and I have a lengthy discussion about Jack Kerouac, his book On The Road, the beat generation, and multiple topics about intelligence, drugs, talent, and shifting opinions based on age (starting at 28:10). I think the topics we brought up are really fascinating and I’m very curious about what others may think about this.
I’d like to ask you all to listen to our podcast and then let me know either through this post or via twitter (@joncperson or @notbiscuits) what your thoughts are.
You can subscribe/listen to the podcast on itunes or find it here.
P.S. the rest of the podcast is good too, also there’s some NSFW language
Nearly two years ago, I took a major step in my life. For the first time I decided that I would attempt to receive something other than views, comments, or simply criticisms for my writing. I published a story on Amazon. It didn’t sell very well.
That’s not to say it wasn’t a formative experience. Even though the numbers were small I understood some of the things that contributed to the sales I did achieve. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to keep my spirits high and I didn’t follow up that story with a promised sequel.
This year has been strange. I’ve come to terms with a lot of things about myself, some of which you can read in this blog. One of the major things though, has been my rediscovered love for writing. It took a lot of rearranging of priorities, but I’m finally in a place where I’m ready to give self-publishing another go.
So, with that being said, I’d like to announce that my second ebook, Cousins of The Revolution is now available on Amazon for the low price of only 99 cents.
Also, because I’m a pretty awesome guy and incredibly humble, I’m offering my first ebook, Tom Collins’ Daughters, for absolutely free, until January 1st.
I like fast burning cigarettes best. It’s a conditioned enjoyment from years of having to fit my habit into fifteen minute breaks or even shorter, but aptly named, “smoke” breaks. The point is to fit as many tasks into that short amount of time as possible, even if it’s just smoking another cigarette.
The reason I say this is for dramatic purposes. I’ve established a characteristic of myself with the intention of breaking it down with the next statement. The best cigarette I’ve ever had spewed it’s smoke for a long time.
I had found myself in Chicago with a pretty girl. I had told her that I had come to the city to buy Christmas gifts I simply couldn’t find anywhere else. This was a lie, I was there for her. I was once again tied to a romance that had put my affections far away. If my memory serves me right, this was the third time this had happened. Continue reading
Last time I promised a follow-up to my blog about race. And, I did write it, multiple times. See, I started running into a problem. That problem was that I was trying to choose my words carefully and make everything sound pretty, superficially at least. In doing so, what I was writing became disingenuous to my original goal of having an honest revelation of the conflictions that I have when it comes to my thoughts on race. Continue reading