You’re going to start seeing work by other writers on this site/blog/thing. Don’t be afraid human, everything will work out. This whole damn thing is expanding into a mutant cyborg of literary proportions, a vision born in the future smashing the trajectory of the status passivity that our society has become so inspired by.
If you would like to have some of your work possibly considered to be read and forever sealed within the adventure of whatever we’re doing here, well e-mail me. You can find ways to get a hold of me via my contact information page. Nice…and so always remember Human, just be cool, because little known fact about me, I’m one organized mother whatcha-your-mouth.
I have a real long project list. My two books, The Portable Kuharevicz, and, From Far Out There, Three West Vine Press books written by some new writers that you haven’t heard of yet, and then I have a couple of books that I don’t know what to do with, Adventures of a Dying Young Man & Visions of Michigan; these are a couple of books that I’m thinking I’ll come back to later, that is, unless some other publisher wants to buy the rights to them, and yeah, they’re a couple of real damn good books, but I just don’t care enough about them right now. I like what I’m working on and the growth as a writer and editor, a publisher and humanitarian that I’m currently making…. blah, and a note to self? Probably.
So saying all of that what-have-you, well I have a question for you…
You ever taken the long walk home? The path that brings you down old train tracks, places that the wild have started to reclaim. You ever done that? And when you did that (assuming you have) have you ever found a strange case then kneeling down and opening it as snow falls you find an old typewriter inside along with hundreds of out-of-order pages of some unknown writer’s work-in-progress? Weird, right? Man I tell ya, strange life that I live, and I say this because this happened to me a few days ago: