About Me

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Waxhaw, NC, United States
I like words, I like art, and I like music, or a combination of all three. I've professionally produced them all at one point or another.

Thursday, February 9, 2017

The Stupidest Video I've Ever Seen

Imagine if you will: You're an alien from some far off civilization that has mastered all the vast intricacies of interstellar travel. You have a mission in sight that you've spent years planning. Finally you're ready. You say goodbye to your loved ones. In your language it comes out as "blarg" overlaid with the sound of someone fisting wet play-Doh. You slowly, apprehensively turn your back to you wife, your children, reminding yourself that this mission is of the utmost importance. Your life's work. With misty eyes, yet no regret, you crawl into your spaceship, fire up the engines, and set about transversing the vast cosmos of this galaxy through the used of mind blowing technology that blows through an ridiculous amount of your planets resources. An eternity goes by. Countless light years are crossed, until finally you reach your destination. Earth.

You land your space craft in a place you're sure through your superior alien intuition none of these primitive Earth people will every find it. You're a fucking pro. You GOT this. Even though you'll never see your family again, you know they'll be proud. Tears line your cheeks; a salty blue mix with the consistency somewhere between jizz and oatmeal. You think of the statues that will be made in your honor. Your time approaches.

You find a small cave. This is it. The moment of your life. Everything has been leading to this one perfect second..

You hear a rustling followed by approaching shadows. A couple of these Earth creatures come into view. All seven of your alien hearts are pumping at full speed. This is going to be so fucking sweet.

The Earthings reach the cave.. They look inside. It's dark. They don't see you. Everything is going according to plan. This is it. This is your time to shine.

You jump out and make a bunch of weird noises as a flashlight exposes you completely. The earthlings take off running.

You did it! Everything went exactly as planned. The exhilaration of the moment is overwhelming. You bask in it. Let the all the conflicting emotions overtake you. It's pure bliss.

Hours go by. The adrenaline slowly subsides, leaving behind a tingling lust that reverberates throughout your entire body. Now that it's all over it feels as if a huge burden has been lifted. Your place in history is secure. You may now be the most accomplished being in all the known universe.

There's only one thing left to do. The Earthlings are gone, surely hiding somewhere far off, basking in terror-piss. There's no better time. With thoughts bitter sweet you take one last moment to reflect one your life; on all the long hours of planning with the greatest minds of your species; of the family you sacrificed for this.

Taking one final breath you bite down on a poisoned capsule that replaced one of you teeth. Right before your body ignites into a billion subatomic explosions, you smile. This was always meant to be a one way trip. Your body becomes flames. The flames become ash, quickly blow away by a gentle breeze, until no evidence remains...

No evidence, EXCEPT THIS:


Saturday, August 1, 2015

Van Damme Fingering a Puppy

Perspective: You're sitting on the shore of a lake, wondering about the things you think normal people wonder about. It's calming. The waves are shallow. Parents with their children paddleboat on a calm meniscus of slightly brownish water. Maybe too brown. The ground below you is not quite sand and not quite dirt, but it's OK. A blue frilled and overly washed beach towel featuring a cartoonish, bikinied lady protects you from getting that all too familiar sand itch inside a bathing suit you never really expected to use in water you're pretty sure is two/thirds fish shit. Life is good.

That's when he finds you.

It's Jean Claude Van Damme. He has a puppy and a look of unbelievable shame written across his face. Did he just get finished fingering that puppy? You don't know, but it would explain a lot. In fact, it explains everything.

You're too afraid to ask, though. All you wanted was a nice relaxing day at the lake. What you got instead was a conundrum man was never meant to answer.

You look again. He's gone. Was he ever really there? You don't know.

Time passes. Life goes on. You get married. Have kids. But in the back of your mind he's always there. In every alley way, in every car that passes you on the highway. Van Damme fingering a puppy is in the face of every person you see.

Eventually, mercifully, you forget about it. Then one night you're walking home from a bar at 2 AM. You hear a noise behind you. You turn. That's when he strikes. He was waiting for you. You never had a chance. The spin kicks and testicle punches are relentless.

That's when you know, and maybe a part of you always knew: Van Damme fingering a puppy was meant to be the last thing you would ever see.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

A Forbidden Story for a Brave New World

In my few experiences as an editor I have alway made it a point that no subject matter is to be off limits as far as what can be submitted to me. I believe creativity should work without restraint and if you have a vision, realize it in any way you see fit. Because of those reasons I've never banned a certain type of story from anything I've edited. Until now.

The story goes like this: The main character, who is never described beyond the absolute bare minimum, is terrorized by some unnamed giant horror. Then in the world of fictions stupidest plot twist, it turns out the main character was a cat all along! and the monster was only a vacuum cleaner! or the hand of its owner! or the family dog! and the cat's just living in a normal world its primitive feline brain can't quite comprehend! Adorable!

Now, the first time I received a variation of this story I sighed, rejected it, and forgot it with little judgement. After all, it wasn't the first bad story I've ever received, and to be honest I've written some pretty stupid stories myself.

The second time I received this story I suspected the twist within the first paragraph. A flip to the last didn't let me down. By the forth, yes forth, I didn't have to check to know what awaited me, but I did anyway while grasping at the smallest of hopes I would be wrong. Also, this last one had its genre listed as science fiction/ horror for some reason.

I only bring this up now because I opened my webzine Three Minute Plastic back up to submissions last night right before I went to sleep. This morning I was stoked to find my first submission. I was considerably less stoked after the first few lines, and following an audible god damn it, it received the mightiest of rejections. The tally is now up to five.

Why, after a three plus year absence from the slushpile, are people still writing this fucking story? Why does it stalk me from project to project? Does my last name mean "stupid cat story enthusiast" in Polish and a few brave writers are just helping my noble people carry on a tradition as old as time? There can't be such an abundance of these stories that every editor gets them as regularly as me, can there? I seriously hope not.

Anyway, do not send me this story. In fact, do not even write this story. It's objectively horrible and no one wants to read it.

However, if you have any other type of story under 400 words you think fits within the style of the zine, feel free to submit to Three Minute Plastic. The link is on your right.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Who Wore it Better?!?!?!?!?

First, we have the three boobed vulture from The Last Unicorn:


The three boobed chick from Total Recall:


Friday, June 12, 2015

I don't want to live in a world without Robot and neither do you

Three weeks ago I started a new writing project call Trapped Inside a Robot. It's a fictional blog written from the point of view of someone...well, yeah. The idea is admittedly cheesy but that's kind of the point. I wanted a base to build up any and every absurd idea I come up with, as well as a way to empty out a back log of good yet unusable, at least in a tradition story sense, ideas. It's turning out a little darker than I initially wanted, but god dammit, I love it and wouldn't want it any other way.

So, if enjoy tales of intrigue, madness, mountain porn, and varying degrees of robot based murder, click the picture of the dastardly looking robot on the right and all your dreams will come true.

[Read it and weep]

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Q: A kids book?

So after finishing a number of short stories that follow my usual route of critiquing the worth of human life by either killing the shit out of everyone in creepy futuristic ways, or killing the shit out of everyone in the form of a choice that drives the question of what it means to be human, I've decided the next logical step would be to try my hand at a kids book. It has the working title Murder Dan and it's plot will be loosely based on the movie Kickboxer, because it's my firm belief that all Van Damme movies need a children's book counterpart. Also in keeping with 100 percent of all Jean Claude Van Damme movies, no less than three characters will be punched in the balls, the flying spin kicks will be aplenty, and someone will fuck a beehive in the manliest, yet most tender way possible as part of their forbidden Kung fu training. 

So it begins...

Friday, January 9, 2015

Exclamation Points!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There's nothing better than an overabundance of exclamation points to help jazz up that story of yours!  I highly suggest using them as much as possible whether it makes sense to do so or not!
Let's face it, punctuation can be so drab these days!  Periods are last weeks news and don't even get me started on question marks!
The great writer, F. Scott Fitzgerald, once said this on the subject, "Using exclamation points is like laughing at your own jokes."
...Wait, don't listen to him!  What does he know!?  Quick, off the top of your head, can you name 276 people who has read a piece of his work!?
Didn't think so!
If your instincts say use an exclamation point after a sentence like:  "Bob sat down in his rocking chair!"  or something equally mundane, then I say go for it and don't let anyone tell you different!
So remember, if there are more periods in your story than exclamation points, you're doing something wrong! And never use a question mark without one!?  Example: Lovely sweater, is that a cardigan!?  (See, that sentence made total sense and was not at all confusing!)

Oh shit!  I got to go!  My dog just got shot in the face!  He's dead!  My kids are going to cry for days!