I’ve been plagued with car troubles for a very long time. See, I don’t make much money even though I have a full-time job, I don’t work very hard so I can’t get a raise, and my car was old and broken.
Three out of four of its windows did not work anymore. I had to manually push them up routinely. My car smelled like a swamp with a dash of cigarette butts and a dollop of the other kind.
I perhaps could have saved some money over time but every three or four months something would break down – causing me to toss out three hundred dollars here and there and depleting my savings even worse than my Half Price Books habit or buffet food.
It all came to a catastrophic climax in early August when, one morning, as I headed out to write dick jokes at work and do nothing I was supposed to, my car just would not start. It wasn’t the battery, it was the computer system, and I was doomed.
Thus began a week of Uber and walking and getting rides from my dear patient girlfriend and panic. But a deus ex machina arrived in the form of my parents are middle-class Appalachian, which is poor for the rest of the country, but rich in cars that half work.
My new old car ran (poorly) for about three weeks. Then it broke down, as well. After it was finally fixed up, and I had pulled even more hair from my head than piss-poor genetics did, I wrote this series of prose poems:
My Car Is Dead But My Soul Is Alive
Points in Case was kind enough to publish them.
My new humor piece is up at Defenestration. It’s basically a prose commercial called “House: The Restaurant“.
It was one of my earliest humor pieces after I started really writing them in late 2015. After a few rejections, I retired it. But one day I was looking through all my other rejects and realized, hey, that one actually has something. So I polished it up and tried again.
Sometimes one gives up too early. Other times, the thing you keep sending out over and over again will never work. If I knew the difference between these two scenarios, I would be actually good already.
Maybe that will come in time.
Maybe I’m just telling jokes into an empty audience until the day I die of a heart attack I mistook for heartburn. Either way, I’d rather play creatively and get better than just play PUBG all day. Even if that is a really good game. (Seriously, it’s the best mobile game I’ve ever seen.)
My new humor piece “The Last Arcade Repairman” is up at Waxing Humorous. It’s a little play on Westerns and arcades. Its title is a pun on The Last Picture Show.
The piece let me flex my little Mark Twain dialect writing out that Elmore Leonard so reccomended against. But it’s real fun stuff. Both the piece and throwing some fake regional slang in.
(All the my knowledge of the West is admittedly secondhand from pop culture and some history books. I’ve actually never been west of the Mississippi but once and that just barely.)
Check it out if you got a minute or two. It’s nice and short.
My new humor piece “Cup of Bro’s: The Coffee Shop For Regular Dudes” is up at Little Old Lady Comedy.
It’s kind of a commercial for a douche bag alt-right (same thing) coffee shop. I like writing in that fake commercial format even though I know prose isn’t necessarily the best way to do it.
However, I am lazy and lack good video/audio editing software (and know-how) so still I try.
I dedicate this piece to Broomwagon Coffee + Bikes in Lexington, KY. They inspired me with their fine coffee, not by having abhorrent political views. They’re a combination bicycle/coffee shop, so, of course they’re progressive as fuck.