Under a Black Rainbow

I should start off by saying that clearly the other senses also elicit strong reminiscences of time and place throughout the backlog of our personal timelines. They're all innately tied together. I don't think one is more important than any other, only that we are wired (depending upon our lifelong interests) in favoring one over the others, who all end up playing roles. I don't have any interest in discussing the science of it, only in discussing the very real and tangible (to me) aspect of it. But for me, music is the strongest one. I've played the violin, the bass guitar, become a DJ. I was the cliche of a child who made mixtapes from the radio, recording my favorite songs when they came on and hoping the DJ wouldn't cut off the end with their incessant and unnecessary ramblings. There was a radio show on the hard rock channel in Oklahoma City called "The Seventh Day." Every Sunday night, they'd play seven heavy rock or metal albums in their en...

This may feel a little scatter-brained, so apologies in advance. I believe a textual sprawl is about happen. By the end of November of last year, I really thought the worst was over, that things could not possibly deteriorate into a space worse than the headspace I had found within myself. That was incorrect. Perhaps I was simply too busy with life and its actual momentum (and its potential momentums) to allow myself the necessary moments to stop and simply breathe. Perhaps I had been more focused on the pain and suffering of those around me to really allow myself a moment to truly take stock of where I was and how I was doing. For all intents and purposes, I myself am doing much better than I was six months ago. A sick mother, a dead father, a dear friend on the run from her own very real demons - these were the things taking up space in my head. Some of that lingers, but it should be stated that I am perfectly fine and that I thrive in quiet moments like this. But as my own...

It’s rare that we get to witness the happening of someone or some event and know that it’s the beginning of a fundamental shift in that particular industry or part of time. Season 6, episode 18 of “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations” titled “Where it All Began” is one of those lucky time capsules. It's been a year and a half since his suicide and it’s weird to not have new episodes of this or “The Layover.” It’s weird to not get his regular patios of “Gonzo journalism” meets punk rock “fuck you” meets dining of all social castes. For me, everyone else who’s attempted this kind of culinary reporting pales in comparison to his style and approach to illuminating the unbreakable bonds that exist between the history of nations, the blending of their taste buds, and the politics of their region. Whether you agreed with his personal politics or not, it’s hard to disagree that he made those connections clear with every episode. But with this one…this is the sheen of a fresh-face...

What started out as something I believed to be a minor experience exploded into a full on thing, which tends to happen when I latch on to a new passion.  And it's not that putting a record collection together is a new thing for me; I sold (most of) my entire collection of nearly 5,000 records back in 2009 in order to move to San Francisco for grad school. And I gotta tell ya, that was the dumbest thing I ever did. Not because of how much some of those records are worth now, but because of how much it would cost me to put some of those records back into my collection. Some of my favorite albums (particularly those by the People Under the Stairs and Massive Attack's "100th Window") are now very nearly cost-prohibitive as to be almost unattainable.  So I've started over. Not quite from scratch as I kept about 50 or 60 records back; the important ones I didn't want to part with for one reason or another. But my approach to buying is different than it us...

It's an interesting image to have in your head, the patriarch taking his last breath while either readying himself for slumber or readying himself for his own kind of war on the day. Two disparate ideas at odds with each other and yet equally viable. While I hate saying it, I think my father had given up on fighting against the day a long time ago. After combing through the scattered bits of life left behind in written form and reminiscing over the several thousand conversations with him over the years, I think he was ready for release. I think he was finally fatigued by his earthly fatigues. To be found sitting upright, though. That's an image I don't think I'll ever shake. For the entire body to keep itself propped up appropriately, only to be found like that hours, or even a day or two, later is...it's strange, even by my standards. It's something I can't stop playing in my head because it's so bizarre that it feels like something I would've ...

A bit of a click-baity title as I can neither confirm nor deny that to be true (unless I'm going purely off of book sales). But I've also had good conversations with local friends who *have* been reading the book and letting me know what they think of particular stories, which is great. I love having those conversations because readers don't always get that face to face time with authors. I think the chats are as fun for me as they are for others. But, if I'm basing this assumption off the metrics of the interactive parts of the book, a better way to say it would be "people aren't interacting with the book." This is both disappointing and unsurprising. Rob and I had this conversation well before the book came out this past May. Would people know how to interact with the book? Was the technology we embedded in the pages well-known enough that the majority of readers would simply know what to do? Would they even care? The overwhelming results and co...

I try to avoid submitting completed stories to the same publications over and over again unless I really like the publication. The Poydras Review is one such publication. The first time I had something published by them, it was "Racking Focus," a story from the most recently published collection, back in September of 2015. They appreciate the quirkiness of my style (and that of other writers), so I tend to like submitting new stuff to them. It's nice when that particular kind of strange aesthetic is embraced at the linguistic and narrative level. Recently, my story "Into Dust" was published on their site. It's from the collection currently in progress and it's something of a good initial barometer for just how weird things will get in Under a Black Rainbow . It's just weird enough to be unsettling, but also tame enough to make the unsettled reader wish for that level of normality once they reach the middle of the collection. You can read ...