No dessert until you sell some poetry!

There's a delightful story by Barry Yourgrau in his book of short stories called 'The Sadness Of Sex.' It involves a woman whose vagina has escaped from her loins and is terrorizing a small town. I feel the same way about my new book B IS FOR BAD POETRY. Yes, Susan, I do write sometimes when I'm not trying to learn fire dancing in the shower. Since we live in a capitalist society, turns out you can't write a book and hand it out for free at the mall. So I'm off on my Willy Loman adventure. Join me, won't you?

Thursday, November 12th at MANDRAKE BAR in Culver City 8pm
Book Reading/Booze/Embarrassment!

Saturday, November 14th at Chevalier's Books in Larchmont 11-1pm
Book Signing

Saturday, November 14th at WACKO on Hollywood Blvd. 6-9pm
More Booze & Book Readings! Bring your own bad poems!

And a few reviews:
LA TIMES JACKET COPY

BOOK PLEASURES

People. They're not just for breakfast anymore

I always say I'm going to stop reading the news online. Yes! I should be writing. I'm aware of that, Susan. But as long as I'm hooked up to the internet and not a morphine drip, chances are I'll be buying vicodin in bulk and reading the news. Lots of it. Todays 'what the fuck' headline:

'Coyotes Kill Young Singer-Songwriter On Hike In Park'

Seriously. WTF! Now I know I won't be finishing my crappy novel today. She was probably thinking of lyrics to her new song about the great outdoors and how society is a prison...wishing she had a pen to write it all down and then WTF!

Coyotes.
Friggin' coyotes.

Now I'm all for irony. But this is just the world on a platter of cruelty.
But...
being a very bad poet above all else, some very bad poetry came to mind when we all know I should be writing. Things like:
'and I thought the music industry would eat you alive'
or 'I took the road less traveled and that was probably a bad idea after all'
or 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy unless you run into coyotes.'

Sadly, there's more. But I should get back to my 'writing.'

What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A.?

There is a circus freak show of things writers get themselves into when they should be writing. Booze comes to mind first. After that, it's just a cacophony of the ridiculous. I'll do my best to expose you to some of the sordid places I go when the writing gets tough and the tough hide under the kitchen table. For instance, I thought it might be fun to use the word 'hirsute' in a poem. Essentially, it means hairy. Not exactly what I was thinking of. Lo and behold it was all downhill from there. For example:

Hirsute, my love won't matter

was the line I was thinking of. That was five hours of wasted time I'll never get back. After a vicodin and a call to the  suicide hotline I realize of course love won't matter if it's hairy. What the hell is that and who would write such a thing? After the pills kicked in and 'Wanda' talked me out of blowing my brains out, I realized I may have actually meant 'forsooth' which makes a lot more sense. It may not mean alot to most people but that's what happens when you lay around naked with a pad of paper and a pen.