Instead of a remembrance post this Saturday evening on the third anniversary of the horrid insurrection/riot at the US Capitol — such accounts which you can find all over the InterWebs today, memorials replayed so shitty with tons of actual video clips of the violently-startling, near-surreal event — I’m offering another literary solicitation to purchase my first (and most likely, my only) novel, “Brown-Eyed Girl With A Cold Corona,” self-published by Outskirts Press.

The book’s Amazon/Kindle page is here.
My author’s page at Outskirts is here.

And in the interest of subject change: Jump from America’s close brush with unsettling chaos and the possible end of democracy as we’ve known it the last 200-plus years, over to an intimate exposé/exploration of the exploits for a soulful, poetically-addled middle-aged man who falls in love with a murder victim — after the murder. Yes, a type of ghost story. Besides, what’s the real truth here? T-Rump is a dangerous psycho, a terrible, horrible asshole, or love is translucent and forever?
Hands down: Both!

Escape to the mid-1990s and a Twilight Zone/Pulp Fiction-influenced romance — a review via Amazon: ‘Not since the Time Travelers Wife has a story tugged at my heart, f*** with my head, and left me so chilled, haunted and thoroughly impressed. A vivid, romantic and ultimately chilling debut, I sincerely hope this author doesn’t stop here. A new, genre bending talent has been unleashed and I personally can’t wait to see what he comes up with next‘.

The first draft of ‘Corona‘ was written in the summer of 1994. After much enlarging, re-writing, and editing, the finished, typed hard copy as it appears now then languished in a cardboard box from Poor Richard’s Press in San Luis Obispo, California, for more than 20 years (yes! 20!) until work started with Outskirts Press in September 2021, finally being published in March 2022.
The basic, narrative plot of ‘Corona‘ is based upon my life then happening in the mid-90s, but dramatically tweaked as shit. Written in first person, the narrative creates a visual landscape for a couple of days inspiring an illusion even within a paranormal tale.

Off the back cover of ‘Corona‘ with more:

Life can sometimes alter course in a finger snap. One second existence seems normal, the next, an out-of-step leap beyond the imagination. A night bar-hopping during Spring break on the California coast shifts from the typical to peculiar and strange in scant moments.
As if out of thin air, she was suddenly sitting close, leaning inward at the little table, her face directly at him. Large, brown eyes intimate and captivating, demanding full attention. The bar’s loud, swirling noise of music and muffled chatter seemed to have quickly vanished into shadow.
Easily, he closed off everything with total focus only on those liquid-brown eyes. In minutes, he fell completely head-over-heels in love, gobsmacked like a virgin little boy.

However, in just a brief, single tick when he’d once glanced away, she vanished. So astonishingly quick the episode, he never got a name or a telephone number. And other people had seen her in the bar, so she was real. Or was she? Such is the beginning.

In an ensuing couple of days, he tumbles like Alice down the rabbit hole. He’s no virgin little boy, but middle-aged and fighting the loose tendrils of a mid-life crisis — divorce, children (for instance, he occasionally smokes pot with his 15-year-old daughter), intense guilt about everything, and booze, all combined for close-call disaster. Yet petty compared to the wondrously-haunting hallucinations he encounters created off that one night with the young woman,

An illusory mystery revealing a murder, though, in an abnormal sequence.

In context:

As a somewhat introverted writer, I’m not good with blowing my own horn/beating my own drum, whatnot, However, ‘Corona‘ is a nice, quick read, and not only a love story, but a snapshot of a particular place found 30 years ago — a whereabouts not recognizable nowadays. Although I sometimes feel that maybe writing the original draft was a therapeutic process for that time and should maybe never have been published, it’s still a neat, youthful story of an old guy who might be sweet-hearted, but batshit crazy.

This is the 11th such installment of these sad, pathetic pleas, and I usually use French to describe what number in the series (starting with ‘Part Deux‘), but it’s easier now to just type out ‘Part Infinity,’ and let the posts keep coming, I guess. And, if you like, the first one in the nonsense is here.

Oh, did I mention the ‘Corona‘ Amazon/Kindle page is here?

Probably just got too tired of ‘tryin’ to write this book,’ so I self-published a little help:

Please, please buy my novel, or not, yet once again here we are…