So, as you may have noticed, the blog has been pretty silent as of late. I’m ridiculously sorry about that because I do enjoy blogging. The problem is that whenever my plate starts filling up it always seems that this is the thing that tends to get pushed off, kind of like peas. Unless you don’t like peas, in that case just fill in that analogy with whatever delicious food you want.
The good news though, my plate just became a little bit clearer because I finally finished my very first collection of short stories. Which I want to announce right now.
Fear And Feathers: Tales of Fantasy In Unexpected Places is now available for download on Amazon.
I’m really proud of this collection. In all intent and purposes it’s my first real attempt at doing any sort of genre fiction which in itself was a challenge, which means I’d really like to know what you guys think. If you decide to pick it up, I’d absolutely love to know your thoughts either through a review or just a simple comment here.
Like always, any support is appreciated. I truly mean that, I know it seems like everyone is appreciative, but for me, being as independent as a person can actually be, every single share, comment, purchase means the world to me. So thank you in advance.
It was the cool morning that first greeted the hunter. The sun was as yellow as it had ever been. It gave off the sort of light that could do nothing except give life. Blood would be spilled under its shine regardless.
The hunter’s pads pressed against the spongy ground as he first began to loosen his tendons. He was a machine. Every strand of sinew and spire of fur served a purpose. All his pieces operated in unison as he set out on his gruesome goal. Continue reading
As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I have a bit of a problem. I find myself searching, with everything I have, for some sort of life changing meaning in the various minutes of my life. The issue I find myself running into though, is that as I’ve become older, those soul shaking epiphanies I thought I had discovered don’t seem so important anymore, or even worse, feel false and tainted with youthful misconceptions. Sometimes, just sometimes, there’s no bigger meaning to be found, sometimes it’s just cotton storms and underage drinking. Continue reading
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