The Season

Writing and just feeling so damn good about it, watching brown Anole lizards crawling on anything and everything outside my window and just plain happy that football season is here—Go Pack!

Stay chill.

Watery Grave Invitational Results

1st Prize: GENNY BOW by Chris LaTray ($50 & a bye into the next WGI)

2nd Prize: FOOTSTEPS IN THE DARK by Mike Wilkerson ($35 & a bye into the next WGI)

3rd Prize: THE DROWNING OF JEREMIAH FISHFINGER by Ian Ayris ($20 & a bye into the next WGI)

4th Place: TWO KILOGRAMS OF SOUL by Keith Rawson (A bye into the next WGI)

5th Place: ABOLITION OF MIDNIGHT by John Higgins (A bye into the next WGI)


Faired pretty good against some excellent competition. Naomi over at The Drowning Machine runs this annually and does a great job hosting the event. It's a ton o' fun.

She's also a fantastic promoter of crime fiction. Usually, she publishes the winning stories on her blog. But this year, she's allowing everyone to explore other outlets which will benefit us, the writer. Naomi is the real deal. And so are the writers who participated and the judges who took the time to read our work. Cheers.

Now I just need to figure out what to do with this damn story.

Stay chill.

Sights

Peel a ripe mango and shove your nose into it. That's the smell of a frangipani blossom.



Rocky the dog went out drinking again last night. Looks like its back to rehab for him.



This is Spike. Spike's our pet spider...I think.



Rocky's asking, "Is this my new room?" No, Rock, this is the baby's room–say what?



Downtown St. Pete this past Christmas. Yeah, short sleeves and shorts.



Another downtown shot.



Stay chill.

THUGHLIT–BACK IN BLACK

Most of you have probably heard, but in case you didn't, take notice: Thuglit is back, Jack. And nobody brings it like Big Daddy Thug-Todd Robinson-and his crew. The dirty deeds. The bad men. The fast cars and fast women.

Stay chill.

STP On The Docket

Living in a duplex in Hays, KS, next to a guy with a shit ton of boogers who never blew his nose. Driving around those old shale roads in my Toyota truck and parking at the entrances of oilfield lease roads, listening to either George Strait or STP. Here's a taste of the latter. Such great lyrics. Music that kept me going. Music that was and is entertaining.

Stay chill.

My Day—One Minute

So I’m trying to write and this cocky squirrel on the fence outside my window is chomping acorns and eyeballing me while I’m drinking tequila and listening to the Chambers Brothers and they’re telling me to “Do It” and I can’t because I don’t know what to do so I’m writing this and eyeballing this squirrel right back because what’s good for that jacked up goose is good for the goddamn gander. Eyes strafe. Squirrel bolts.

Another second inside my head.

Chambers Brother switch it up—Let’s Get Funky—Right on. Wind’s stretching out crepe myrtle’s. Ants are crawling outside my door and some chump wants to dump a butt load of chemicals on ‘em—that’ll fix em, he says. I tell him to take a flyin’ fuckin’—shut yo mouth! Fan’s blowing but it’s still hot as hell back in this window laced room because when May hits down here you start sweating and you don’t stop, and you don’t stop—Sure Shot.

Check that—Chambers Brothers are telling me to Wade in the Water. Dive in DEEEEEEP. Salt. Fluid. Mouth. Lungs.

Back on shore—don’t EVER mess with the Chambers Brothers—Chambers Brothers are BAAAAAAD!

Stay chill.

A Picture Worth Wetting Yourself Over

God love a dog.

Stay chill.