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Steampunk and Space Rock and Shakespeare, Oh My.
So remember last year, when my brilliant sidekick took over George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and, with the help of his esteemed cohorts in Silver Machine, wrote a trippy new soundtrack for it? He’s at it again, this time taking on sound design duties for a local steampunk version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Even if you’re not big on Shakespeare,…
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On English Classes, Guts and Expectations
Some of you might know that I went back to school recently. I am required, as part of the standard curriculum, to take an English class. I thought about testing out of the class, but decided to go through with it because I don’t exactly have a ton of experience writing the kind of things college…
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Asheville Writers in the Schools Write-A-Thon
Hi friends, Asheville Writers in the Schools is a non-profit organization that places writers in local schools to teach kids about the joys of reading and writing. I’m participating in a “Write-A-Thon” to raise funds for the program; I’m hoping it will help inspire me, too, to complete the children’s book I’ve been promising baby…
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November Again.
this is when the darkness crawls in through my eyes, making pupils grow darker than normal with no sunlight anywhere nothing reflecting, the night settles in to my bones, through my pores makes my blood thick and slow, turns my lungs to cement i can’t breathe like this and the clouds gather, silently mocking creating…
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command.
and then there’s this conversely bleak grey screens flashing disco balls of whatthefuck screaming buy me feel me hear me fuck me leashed together, shackled minds stay in step don’t fall out let the great ones take you down the path to everything is a-ok wash your feet in the bloody lamb, facing east and…
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planet.
under this blackbright sky i was in your hands. i held the scent of fire under my tongue it made me high it made me sleep it made me what was that you said? our words are mumbles, something like dreams half-awake, forgotten what was this. we are hazy filters layered over an already pitch-perfect…
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rot.
what if one day our hands didn’t match if, while walking they didn’t draw together magnetic what if your fingers didn’t recognize mine? what if one day we shared a seat without resting our feet on each other or my head finding that place just to the left of your shoulder that seems to remember…
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spit.
Came across a folder of things I wrote but didn’t publish, for one reason or another. Everything I write is somewhat abstract, and while the more positive things might be inspired by a particular person or event, the darker, angry ones almost never are. I go through phases in which I’m appalled by our society,…
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spine.
you don’t matter to the people who walk along your spine in military-issue combat boots lined with the skin of your brothers bite the fucking curb wear the flag let it wrap around your throat and suffocate your thoughts- drink the water. where is the remote? behind the couch with the bible and your stash…
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April Fox 