Friday, February 15, 2013

on the off chance something occurs

We reinstate the blogliness of the Dropped Transmission.

Or the Dropped Transmission is picked up once more.

Something like that.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

nothing happens . . . and then nothing happens

Dear blog,

I've neglected you. To be fair, I told you from the beginning I wouldn't really pay much attention to you. No one cares what you have to say. Or what I have to say. I don't even care. This is confusing. All the same, I feel bad for failing to hold up my end of the deal. I will try harder. I will sooner or later bring new news, redundantly, to share with you. Times are good. We've had some rain, even, in the midst of this drought. We'll catch up soon. Here's to hoping all is well with all everywhere.

Much love,


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

news arrives from the west (or southwest or wherever this is)

Texas! It's big.

After crossing the middle of America, with stops in Raritan, Illinois, and Wichita, Kansas, we finally reached the Panhandle two weeks ago tomorrow. It was quite a trip--plenty of rain to slick the overloaded cargo trailer along (by the by, watch out for Kansas City, where driving seems to be a herky-jerky death match of some sort). A couple weeks of unpacking, assembling, and dragging all over the Panhandle later (pictures eventually to come, hopefully), I'm trying to settle back in. Been writing some poetry, but any sort of fiction writing is long stalled out. Alas. Planting season is just around the corner, and we'll be making our first foray into the wonderful world of cotton. Please supply your own tasteless jokes--I've too much on my plate, for it now.

Good news continues rolling in, however. First acceptance made its way to Texas, last night--the Coe Review is picking up one of my stories. Which is a thrill. Also a lot of new issues coming out, right now, with some of my work inside. The latest Yemassee and Armchair/Shotgun include a couple of my stories, and I have poems in the current Southern Poetry Review and Chaffey Review, as well as in the brandspankingnew inaugural issue of OH NO. Check these great mags out, if'n the opportunity arises.

Next on the list: buy handgun and cowboy hat; drive tractor; dance wildly beneath wind turbines; write novel; ???; fortune and fame. Here's to hoping the best.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

two (2) stories in twelve (12) hours (or how to feel better while feeling bad)

I'm down with the sickness (no, I know) of a cold (thanks, Dad). Snow piled, single-digit temps, all the good wintry stuff. I usually get my colds in the summer. Summer colds. This is an unimportant fact.

Great news in the inbox, last night, though, and again this morning: Concho River Review and Many Mountains Moving picked up a couple of my stories. I'm downright thrilled. Here when I'm a little less underweathered I aim to pontificate aimlessly on the genesis of "Liability," the piece CRR has accepted (new issue due out April or May). It's one on which I've been hammering for a good long while.

For now, though, it's a lot of quiet, darkness, and sleeping. Except celebratory. Feel better, people, and I will, too.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

the get-home gets finished

Oklahoma was crazy. Some folks from Tulsa--and all the news/weather/highway reports--tell me the northeast end of the state was a lot wilder than where we were, passing through on I-40, but the stretch from Shawnee to Checotah, less than a hundred miles, took us four hours to travel. So I'd say we had it as bad as I'd ever want it, at least. Much of the way was a matter of creeping over a solid sheet of ice and snow. Plenty of stranded vehicles, a few fresh wrecks, and a ton of nerve-wracking scenery. My brother got a shot of what was probably the best (worst) visual with his phone:

We made it pretty all right, though. Aside from waking up to a domestic disturbance in the hotel room across the hall from us that night in Conway, Arkansas, made it home without incident. Now it's a matter of packing up and getting moved. A week from now, I ought to be living in Texas. Wild times. More or less. Early spraying for the cotton crop starts around the 22nd--so here's to learning how to operate a sprayer and not poisoning ourselves.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

banked on the highwayside between so many places

W1S1 update: I'm iced in in Shawnee, Oklahoma, trying to get back home from Texas, where I went to get trained for deadly-chemical use or some such, only the guy who gives the certification test didn't want to get out in the snow, which wasn't bad at all out there--trying to get back home, that is, so we can get moved back out to Texas. Here I am, playing on my brother's iPad, watching DEMOLITION MAN for the millionth time--and just not a ton of writing is happening. If any. Still, I've cranked out a good 2.85 stories so far this year, and there's an outside chance at catching up. So here's to hoping--and appreciating what's happened so far. Lot of real-world work coming up, lot of crap right this moment, but nonetheless a bright-looking year with plenty left. Hope everyone else is firing on all cylinders. Make with the words, peeps.

Friday, January 28, 2011

spell it like the train i guess

I have a poem out in the current Sheepshead Review--and they put the poem up for readin' on their site. They also misspelled my admittedly unwieldy name, but, you know. It happens.