The snake you thought was dead uncoils

Hello, liquor store, it’s just me. Me in the parking lot, me and the homeless people who materialized from nowhere at the stroke of 10:00. I saw the first lady walk up in my rear view mirror just after I caught the flicker to life of the open sign. We all sauntered up inside, all trancelike. Like a dog whistle version of the church bells. It actually made me sort of proud. I felt real kinship. I can rationalize my own behavior by reminding you I am working the night shift, and have been awake today since 3 am. The night shift, I am discovering, justifies all sorts of strange behavior. Anyway, I’d only been waiting a couple of minutes.

I moved to an apartment they deal heroin out of. At least, I think it’s heroin. I haven’t tried to buy anything yet. But yeah, at least a few days a week, this place is Open for Business. This is good to me. The other people that live here keep dropping little portentous details, big provocative things. “Since I went bankrupt and lost my house, I’ve been living in motels and places like this.” “I moved in here six months ago—worst mistake of my life. I regret it. I’ll tell you later. *deep sigh*”

Not that I’m worried. Like I said, I like this. I’m living alone, and I prefer that a lot to living with the last guy. He had hella coke and ecstasy, but the thing was, he didn’t share. One of many problems I had with that guy. But I am beginning, after some three weeks, to feel very established at the new place. I have nails for the windows. Allies in the building. I’ve been invited to the dirtiest little parties that you ever did see. There’s also a community garden, for strawberries, and good kush. Tomatoes sprouting in abundance. An ice chest full of beer made out of golden wheat. My dad is worried; he asked me if any children lived here. I gave him the best answer that I could, based on what information that I had, and said, “Sometimes.” Hell if I know. I don’t give a shit. Rob me if you want some decent books.

I have made advances in the world of writerering, which is neat. I’m writing for Zergnet now, for a panoply of sites. It’s one of those organizations that’s responsible for the links you tend to get at the bottom of a lot of websites; lists and things you won’t believe. Good place to kill time. So if you happen to see my byline there, it’s me. We are the content creators, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

I’m also immensely excited to announce that a short story of mine, “The Killer and the Star”, will be appearing in the pages of the horror quarterly magazine Dark Moon Digest, on shelves wherever books are sold this July 1. This is a quality magazine, full of quality work, and also me. It’s available as well on Amazon. I don’t get any more money off it either way, but I encourage you to check it out. I think my story’s pretty good. It’s about this dude, who’s really fucked up? And he like, has done some shit. And he’s gonna do more. And there’s a movie involved. I don’t know, it’s among the better things I’ve written. Satisfying, not unlike a particularly bracing burp.

Thank you for reading. Til next time, I remain adrift at sea.