was always rich. Always married. Always kids. The wife successful too. Something cool. TV writer, Netflix, HBO. Loved his kids, showed pictures. They’re doing well in school. They’ll go to good colleges. He takes them diving. Trips at ten to places I still haven’t seen. He has what I pray for. The wife was beautiful but the girl’s 22 and she always, always broke it off because he said I’ll leave her please please move in with me.
Oh God I Was a Fucking Fool to Let Her Go
29 Jun
She texted me back. Didn’t want to go to work this morning. Wanted to spend those hours telling her: come back. I’ll quit. We’ll travel the world with the money left after bespoke surgery to graft your golden asshole to my mouth. Cut off my nuts for your coin purse. My cock for your toe ring. Come back to me come back to me. The phone dings and I jump for it like pushing my baby out from in front of a bus and it’s someone else. Continue reading
What Should I Do About This Girl
8 Jun
Let someone like you. Let yourself like someone. Let yourself like waking up next to her with your morning wood in her ass crack and the smell of the back of her neck and the mockingbirds going. The cool June gloom in the morning. Her hair’s messed up and she wraps around your arm like a baby. She doesn’t quite wake up but shifts a little. Takes a big breath. That’s what we’re here for. You don’t have to impress her. She doesn’t have to impress you. You don’t have to be with her forever. We’re all gonna die. Just be with her now. While whatever’s there is still there. Let yourself be happy. When it stops– if it’s tomorrow, if it’s death– you had it.
The Cat Food
8 Jun
There’s a feral cat that comes around. He won’t let me pet him. I put out a bowl of water. He didn’t come. Decided I’d try food. Went to CVS. Found the cat food section and went to pick up the can. It was “Tasty Treats in Gravy.” Some kind I used to buy for Bud. And looking at it, feeling the can in my hand, it was like I was buying it for Bud again. Like I’d go home and Bud would be there. And I’d brush him, and then open up a can of Tasty Treats with Gravy and plop half of it into his bowl and he’d– he loved it, he just loved it. If you give him the whole can he’ll puke on the carpet later. Continue reading
Interview with the Pussy Vampire
24 May
Here’s an interview I did with Chip Smith from Nine Banded Books. This will also be on Autistic Mercury. Possibly in print somewhere.
I wrote this before Roosh converted to Christianity and banned all mention of sex from his forum.
Like everything recently, it exists to plug my new book: Continue reading
Strap In, We’re Dying Alone
12 MayI’m not good enough, my book isn’t good enough, it’s not as good as Mike Ma’s book, I’m not tall enough– 6 foot 3 or above– I’m too fat, the bottom of my six pack has fat on it, I’m not handsome enough, not rich enough, my future earning potential is not high enough to start a family– $300K plus per year– my nose hairs are too long bristly and white, my dick is not big enough, my nuts not small compact tight and symmetrical enough, the nuts themselves are fucked up and then too my scrotum is too long. My butthole not hairless enough. My books don’t sell well enough. When they do it’s not to enough women. I don’t have enough guns crossbows and C4 explosives to protect my putative children when shit hits the fan. I’m not liberal enough. I’m too associated with future mass murdering incel Nazis. I’m just not cool. I’m not famous enough. I could do something about it but you know, who gives a fuck.
Why Don’t You Get a New Cat
21 AprI’m not done missing Bud. And I might leave America forever. Any moment. Any morning. Take my book money, buy a two way ticket to the Philippines. Throw the return ticket in the trash. You need it for the visa. Then again since Duterte no one checks. Continue reading
Cuckolded by a Savage Armenian
10 Mar
image: Wizards of the Coast
I have a new post at Autistic Mercury reviewing the “Cat Person” short story collection.
Also: Continue reading
On the Beach
10 MarI saw a rock that looked like a piece of liver. Went to pick it up. It pulsated. Some kind of sea slug. Weird, naked and vulnerable. Squirmy limbs like tree fungus uncurling from it. A foot away the waves. I should throw it back, I thought. But what if it wanted to beach itself. Maybe it has its reasons.
I let it go. The tide was rising. Maybe it died in agony wishing I’d thrown it back. Maybe it lived, wishing I’d killed it.


