One Word, One Rung, One Day

Selling Sex ... The Old-Fashioned Way

2012-01-27T11:00:00.000-06:00

Working at the post office as I do I have seen lots of magazines come through over the years. Certainly enough to realize the cover designers of the world are big believers in the old adage SEX SELLS. And not only in magazines marketed for men. Here are a few samples from magazines with a variety of intended audiences to prove my point.

I find it odd that many of these designers seem to think a woman has to be naked or at least topless for the cover to be sexy.

Other than fitness and muscle magazines it is fairly rare for men to be nearly nude or even topless on magazine covers. and even more rare for celebrity males to appear in that form unless they are MMA fighters or boxers and on occasion other pro athletes but almost never actors.

Though I did find this shot of the Bieb revealing some skin in some kind of funky fish net type shirt . I only have one word for that -- disturbing.

Most leading men appear on magazines with their best swarthy expression and it is simply inferred they are the manliest Y chromosomes on the block.

Now don't get me wrong. I am as big a fan of the female body as anyone, but frankly these so-called provocative shots are anything but for me. They are too revealing. Now I'm not saying that from a moral standpoint. That is another issue altogether and one I don't care to discuss on this blog. I get the the whole subjective women angle too but I'm looking at this post from a pure hedonistic point of view.

And for my money the pin up girl poses of old are far sexier and provocative than the skinfest of today's covers.

I am a sucker for a pin up girl whether it be of the actual picture variety ...

or the illustrated versions ...

So I say, come on cover designers give me less (skin) to give me more. I am after all a writer so I have a good imagination. My mind can fill in where in needs to.

'cause The Sandman Wants To Know

2012-01-24T21:32:00.000-06:00

Not long ago I left a comment of this guy's post about dreams. I trotted out the theory that we writers tend to have more graphic dreams and later recall those dreams than non-writers. I say this because after years of reading blogs and talking to writers I hear them report strange, weird and extremely graphic dreams way more often than I do from my non writing friends.

Today I offer up a trio of my recent nocturnal illusions as further proof of my theory.

Dream #1 Mary Lou Retton, resplendent in her patriotic leotard was teaching me how to pole vault. I stood there listening intently as she gave me instructions on how to do pole vault and I distinctly remember her saying, "I still have lots of contacts on the Olympic committee so you are a shoo-in to make the team.

Dream #2 My wife woke me up to inform me I was whistling a tune in my sleep. It was at that point I realized I'd been dreaming about a clay animation form of myself standing on the stage of the Jerry Springer show singing a song. I only wish I could recall the tune I was singing.

Dream #3 This was the most graphic and vivid dream of the three. I had a raw, festered splinter in either my hand or arm. I had a pocketknife and was trying to remove said splinter but with each attempt I cut a huge chuck of my flesh away. i remember the quarter sized pieces falling away and me nonchalantly going back to work on the splinter which remained untouched at the center of an ever growing and bloody crevice in my body.

I am lucky to have an eclectic group of readers so I'm going to take an informal poll. Please weigh in with your answer.

Thy River Runs Red

2012-01-23T21:56:00.000-06:00

There are rights in this world ...

and there are wrongs ...

And we can't fix everything, so sometimes we remain silent despite our inclination to speak up.

But some issues arises that force us the speak up. The climb to the highest peak around and shout at the top of our lungs.

Here is one such issue ...

Come on Man. The words PHILLY CHEESE STEAK should never I repeat NEVER follow the word chicken.

Chickens have breasts, legs, thighs, gizzards, feet, necks, and even giblets, but there ain't a single steak anywhere to be found anywhere on a yard bird my friends. Don't let this happen. Don't let the health nuts muddy the blood red waters of Steak River.

Stand with me on this and boycott anything called a chicken steak. If you ask me this so called Philly is nothing but a glorified panini and in case you wonder how I feel about that horrendous moniker check out this post.

Haley Update

2012-01-17T09:15:00.001-06:00

A couple of weeks back I posted a video of a local man, a friend that was looking for his daughter. Many of y'all shared that video on both your blogs and facebook pages, as did hundred if not thousands of people all over the world. Well, the creator of that video, Ray Wilson recently posted a blog post of his own. Check it out if you want a few more details about the story.

Will Work For Food

2012-01-16T21:29:00.000-06:00

My buddy Alex Keto sent me this story along with a note that it reminded him of my feeding the chickens story in THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES.

A Los Angeles woman was arrested after she offered sexual favors in exchange for chicken McNuggets, Burbank police said.
Khadijah Baseer of Los Angeles reportedly opened customers’ car doors in the drive-thru of McDonald’s on the 1700 block of Olive Avenue about 11 p.m. Wednesday, asking for free chicken McNuggets in exchange for sexual favors, Officer Joshua Kendrick said.

A man told police Baseer approached him but he refused the offer.

Baseer was arrested Wednesday on suspicion of prostitution.
I've seen enough crazy things to realize there are a lot of folks with shaky morals in this world but MgNuggets? Really? Sexual favors for mechanically separated chicken bits? Come on Khadijah, at least sell yourself for a Big Mac.

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Yes, my beloved New Orleans Saints went down in a turnover filled thriller, but I'll have all of y'all know my 9 year old son has avenged that defeat by repeatedly beating those damn Forty-Niners on EA Sports Madden Football game. So take that San Francisco.

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Anybody else heard that Rihanna song ... We Found Love? You know the one where she goes on and on about finding love in a homeless place. My wife swears she says hopeless place but my ears hear homeless place and if Ms. Baseer can find love in a Micky D's drive-thru than I reckon Rihanna can find it down at the Salvation Army.

Racing Ahead

2012-01-13T15:37:00.000-06:00

Those of you who follow me on Facebook or twitter have already know some of this but I know some of you don't so I want to share some potentially exciting news with y'all.

But I wouldn't be a very good writer if I hopped straight to the exciting part so let me give you the whole story.

Three or four weeks back, I got wind of a casting call for a new reality television show. The producers of this show were looking for 12 unique romance writers and 12 avid romance readers. The casting call had a list of 5 or 6 questions so I answered them and emailed in my response.

A few days later I hear from the producer. She wants me to expound upon a few of my original answers.

A couple of emails followed. Then a phone conversation.

A phone conversation that was went very well and has me very excited about my chances. I wish I could share more but I can't at this point but man am I stoked about the possibilities before me.

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In other news I recently read a fantastic YA book called The Scorpio Races. I'd heard plenty about the talents of the author, Maggie Stiefvater but still I was surprised by the quality of the prose. Here is the blurb as it appears on Amazon.

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Shiver and Linger comes a brand new, heartstopping novel.

Some race to win. Others race to survive.

It happens at the start of every November: the Scorpio Races. Riders attempt to keep hold of their water horses long enough to make it to the finish line.

Some riders live.

Others die.

At age nineteen, Sean Kendrick is the returning champion. He is a young man of few words, and if he has any fears, he keeps them buried deep, where no one else can see them.
Puck Connolly is different. She never meant to ride in the Scorpio Races. But fate hasn't given her much of a choice. So she enters the competition - the first girl ever to do so. She is in no way prepared for what is going to happen.

As she did in her bestselling Shiver trilogy, author Maggie Stiefvater takes us to the breaking point, where both love and life meet their greatest obstacles, and only the strong of heart can survive. The Scorpio Races is an unforgettable reading experience.

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And for you poetry fans out there please take a moment and check out this blog written by my good friend Adam. Adam is an extraordinary young man of 23 that is wise beyond his years. He is a seminarian from my church and I can't wait until he is a full-fledged priest because he will writing some spectacular homilies.

Truth be told I'm not a huge poetry guy. I do not always connect with the words of poets but there are few whose prose speaks to me. And as I write this I think the quality that make me connect with these few is TRUTH. The Walking Man who often frequents this blog and Adam write is such a way that it makes me feel as if I am peering into their soul seeing not what they want to show me but he truth hidden in the shadows. I like that as the that often leads to me discovering something about myself I'd never thought of or at least never admitted.

Holy Pigskins

2012-01-08T11:47:00.000-06:00

It all started with a pinky toe.

You see I am frugal, or as my wife likes to call me a tightwad.

My old pair of athletic shoes were just fine. Yes the pinky toe of my right foot was visible but so what? like 98% of the shoe was still intact. But no, my wife made me go buy a new pair last week.

Like I said I;m frugal so when I spotted these bad boys on sale for half price I jumped.

I don't usually go for such flashy footwear but at half price I couldn't go wrong. Or so I thought.

As any longtime reader of this blog knows I am a diehard New Orleans saints fan. Last night the saints battled the Detroit Lions in the wildcard round of the NFC playoffs.

You might notice the colors on that Lion helmet nearly match those on my footwear.

Call me superstitious if you will but when the score was 14-7 Lions I ripped those damn blue shoes off my feet and flung them across the room. From that point on my beloved Saints dominated and eventually came away with a 45-28 victory.

My apologies to Drew Brees and the other members of the Saints organization for letting my frugality damage the cosmic Karma of the WHO DAT universe. And don't worry I will not wear so much as a single red item this week as you prepare to take down the San Francisco 49ers next weekend.

GEAUX SAINTS!

Come Show Me What You Got

2012-01-06T08:31:00.002-06:00

A thought occurred to me today while telling a story to the guys at work. I've lived but three places in my adult life. And despite the fact I consider myself an okay guy, a sociable sort of fellow who is easy to get along, in every single place I've ever lived one of my neighbors has hated me.

Funny thing is it's never been my fault. At least not directly.

Let me explain.

House #1 was a dumpy joint out in the country. despite being out of the city limits I lived in a cluster of other houses. Some on wheels. Some not.

I owned a red-ticked coonhound named Rufus.

Rufus was a wandering soul that simply could not be penned. He was also a kleptomaniac. Inn the years i owned him he brought me an assortment of pilfered goods that I had no idea where he stole. A pocketknife, opened up. My guess is someone flung it at him trying to carve out his pillaging eye. Numerous articles of clothing, including lingerie which I presume he plucked off other people's clothes line. Lots of beer bottles, newspapers, doormats, water sprinklers, and anything else left outside.

But the worst was the day my neighbor across the road called to tell me Rufus had jumped up and stolen the shoe right off his granddaughters shoe as he was carrying her inside. He claimed Rufus had absconded with he baby shoe and was now hiding beneath my house. And he was sure enough correct. It sure was embarrassing to crawl under there and back out while my neighbor stood and huffed in my yard. Later the man never would talk to me much.

House #2 was was farther out in the country. it was the place Jennifer and I bought when we got married. We lived there until the joint burned down to the ground three years ago. Again my neighbor trouble stemmed from a canine.

When I said I do I not only said I do to Jennifer I said it to an ancient and grouchy Siamese cat and a slobbering, 100 pound bloodhound, named Bart.

Bart was good and stayed home unless he caught sent of a female in heat and then he was off to have him some fun. Not long after Jennifer and i settled in a friend got divorced and decided to move down to Corpus Christi. Somehow I got possession of his Chesapeake Bay Retriever Rosey in the deal and man did she love the water. Especially the warm water of my closest neighbor's hot tub. Bart didn't care for the water much but he got excited to see Rosey swim around. And when he got excited he drooled even more.

My neighbor quit talking to me before I had the chance to ask him what bothered him more. A fat Chessie taking laps in the hot tub, or Bart dripping slobber into the water while he watched.

That brings us to House #3 my current abode. These days I live int he city. I have neighbors all around me and mostly they like me just fine, except the one across the street. And nope, this time a dog is not to blame. nor any animal. it's all Nacho Libre's fault.

Let's take a look at Halloween 2009.

Here is one of my buddies in his costume that year.

As tends to happen at parties the house grew warm so Mr. Nacho-for-a-night stepped outside to cool down. I live on a somewhat busy street so 3,4, maybe 5 cars spotted Nacho and honked. My neighbor across the street came outside, yelled at Nacho and another guy dressed as a beer keg and then went back in his own house.

I wandered outside to cool off just after this event and met Nacho and Keg boy on their way inside. They told me about the neighbor and how he yelled at them for keeping his kids awake. Now mind you this was a Friday night and this guys kids were a freshman in college and a high school junior. I doubted seriously either was in bed and as I explained this to my friends another car, or maybe two drove by and honked at the three of us. I was dressed as a magician.

My neighbor came outside at this point and yelled, "Be warned! I know Judo!"
Without skipping a beet Nacho leaped forward about six feet and assumed a wrestling posture as he said, "Well come show me what you got big boy."

My neighbor disappeared into his house and has not spoken to me since.

Hard To Swallow

2012-01-05T09:48:00.000-06:00

Here are a couple of strange news stories I have gathered in recent weeks.

Swallowed pen still works 25 years later

The gist of this story is a woman was poking at her sore tonsils with a felt tip marker when she lsot her balance and fell, swallowing the pen in the process. Doctors spotted it in a recent when she was having some unrelated trouble. They decided to remove the pen and despite having spent all that time in her gut the think still had usable ink and could write. I've written a few gut wrneching stories but this tale trumps me by a long shot.

LINCOLN, Neb. -- Officials at the Bennett Martin Library in Lincoln have removed and destroyed about 150 books after someone urinated on the biographies bookshelf.
The Lincoln Journal Star says Monday that officials don't know when it happened, why it happened or who did it, but the smell left no question. A police report puts the loss at $3,900.
Tammy Teasley of Lincoln City Libraries says she was removing older, outdated books from circulation on Nov. 28 when she detected the odor on the shelves on the second floor in a corner of the building.

Teasley says the person was likely intoxicated and found a secluded spot in the library. She says the remaining books on those shelves will be moved elsewhere.

What kind of fiend pisses on books? Especially biographies. And who gets drunk and goes to library?

Odd Is The End

2012-01-03T22:01:00.000-06:00

I have good news to share. My friend Ray, the father who made the video in the last post has found his daughter after police in Carlsbad, California pulled her over. As I type this he is en route in his flight to go out and talk to her. Thanks to all of you who helped spread the word and I hope they are able to have a productive talk and come away with a healthy resolve for their entire family.

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My publisher is pleased with sales of THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES and discussion of a second book for them have began. Possibly based upon my days as a second rate mall Santa. I'll keep y'all posted.

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I too am pleased by THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES sales but even more so by the reviews. Thanks to those of you who have left me a review at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, and anywhere else you may have left one. Word of mouth is about all I have to help spread the word so thanks to those who have recommended my book to others. I've started to get emails and comments on twitter from people I have not had previous contact with and it is great to hear they too are enjoying the book.

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My beloved New Orleans Saints have me excited for the NFL playoffs just in time to ease the pain of Nebraska's disappointing first season of Big 10 football. And in an era of highly publicized bad behaving athletes i gotta say is there a better team player and all around decent human out there than Drew Brees? I think not.

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Despite being only a few day into 2012 I've already finished reading two books.

NUMB by Sean Ferrell

The beauty of this book is in the prose. Mr. Ferrell tackled a difficult task, writing a first person narrative of a man who is unable to feel physical pain, and gave us a book that a reader feels with every word. Numb, the title character, is a troubled man and while his flesh is incapable of feeling, both his soul and psyche ache with alarming clarity. A great read worthy of your time and money.

The second book i read was written by longtime friend and commenter of this blog Charles Gramlich.

Days of Beer: A Memoir of a Beer Drinkin' Man --

Days of Beer is a humorous look at one young man’s adventures with beer drinking as he grows up in the south. Good beers, bad beers, the worst of beers. They’re all here. Includes such episodes as “Postholes and Pilsner,” “The Tuborg Sanction,” “The Watermelon Incident,” and “Possum Night.”

Here is the official review I left Charles ...

A quick, enjoyable read as tasty as a cold one on a hot summer day. Reading this book is like sitting down with great friends on a Friday night. The stories will make you smile, reminisce, and forget all about the hangovers that went along with them.
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And last but not least I will be placing the porder for the Feedstore shirts a week from today. Shirts have printing on front and back. You can pay via paypal no later than January 9th to order yours. $22 for sizes up to XL and $24 for XXL and XXXL. Send payments to travis@traviserwin.com

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I hope all of you have a blessed 2012 and thanks for making my 2011 a whole lot brighter by visiting this past year.

Help Find Haley

2011-12-30T15:43:00.000-06:00

I first met Ray Wilson several years ago. When I say met I mean i began bantering back and forth with him on twitter. Unlike most Internet friends I have met Ray actually lives in my town. After months of conversation 140 characters at a time we finally met in person, by happenstance in the grocery store aisle.

Ray is a computer guru, a singer, a writer, and a businessman, but most importantly he is a father. right now Ray is hurting so I am asking all of y'all as friends of mine to help out this friend by watching this video and sharing it wherever you can.

I know firsthand of the miraculous impact of social media and the Internet. It is my fondest wish that Ray will soon realize that healing as well. Please spread the word.

Travis

Santa Brought You An E-Reader ... Now What?

2011-12-25T05:52:00.002-06:00

First off let me say Merry Christmas to all of you. I hope each of you are int he midst of a fabulous holiday season.

Once again this year e-readers were a hot time and if you are in need of some reading material to load to you new advice here are a few suggestions. I'll be up front and honest, I count everyone of these authors as friends but that is not to say they are not talented deserving writers. Taste is subjective and I dare say there is one or two things on this for every reader regardless of their reading preference. It's a long list, but well worth perusing for the things that match your personal taste in literature

Several authors have multiple books available, but I have linked to their latest work.

(All links are to kindle version but most books are available in other formats as well)

Monkey Justice by Patti Abbott ($2.99)

"Patricia Abbott proves that there are many shades of noir as she expertly layers her stories with melancholy, loss and the frailness of the human psyche" – Dave Zeltserman, author of Pariah

“Patti Abbott is a master when it comes to short stories.” -- Anne Frasier, author of Pale Immortal and The Orchard (as Theresa Weir)

“In this collection of short contemporary noir fiction, Patti Abbott distinguishes herself as an extraordinary storyteller of the dark recesses of the human heart. Abbott’s characters hit hard, fight dirty, and seek a brand of hardscrabble justice that will leave you both wincing and wishing for more.” – Sophie Littlefield, author of a Bad Day for Sorry

The Tavernier Stones by Stephen Parrish ($2.99)

When the body of seventeenth-century mapmaker Johannes Cellarius floats to the surface of a bog in northern Germany with a 57-carat ruby clutched in his fist, the grisly discovery ignites a deadly twenty-first-century international treasure hunt to unearth the fabled Tavernier stones.　 The hoard reputedly contains some of the world's most notorious missing jewels, including the 280-carat Great Mogul diamond and the 242-carat Great Table diamond.

Scrupulously honest Amish-born cartographer John Graf teams up with outlaw prospector and gemologist David Freeman in a ferocious race to find the treasure and break a secret code that will unravel the centuries-old Tavernier stones mystery. But other fortune hunters, opportunists and criminals alike, are in hot pursuit of the mismatched partners---and they'll stop at nothing to possess the legendary jewels.

Illuminated by Erica Orloff ($7.99)

Some loves are not made to last . . . Like Romeo and Juliet, Heloise and Abelard were doomed from the start, and their romance was destined to pass into history. Yet when sixteen-year-old Callie Martin discovers a diary hidden within an antique book, their story - and hers - takes on another life. For the diary leads Callie to the brilliant and handsome August, who is just as mysterious as the secret the diary hides. Their attraction is undeniable. As the two hunt down the truth behind the diary - and that of Heloise and Abelard's ancient romance - their romance becomes all-consuming. But Callie knows it can't last . . . love never does. Will their love that burns as bright as a shooting star flame out, or will these star-crossed lovers be able to defy history?

The Valley of Shadows by Mark Terry ($3.99)

A raid on a Pakistan Al-Qaeda cell recovers two laptops. When the computers' booby-traps are defused and the computers decrypted and translated, they indicate that Al-Qaeda has planned a series of simultaneous attacks in five U.S. cities involving potential dirty bombs, biological weapons and maybe even a nuclear weapon-on Election Day. Derek Stillwater, troubleshooter for the Department of Homeland Security, is assigned to a multi-jurisdictional Special Terrorism Activity Response Team (START) to locate the weapon and terrorists in Los Angeles and prevent the attack. They have two days. But as they close in on their targets, Derek begins to think that the intelligence they gathered is a sideshow to distract them from the real target-one of the two candidates for President of the United States.

BEAT to a PULP by various authors ($0.99)

BEAT to a PULP: Hardboiled is a compilation of uncompromising, gritty tales following in the footsteps of the tough and violent fiction popularized by the legendary Black Mask magazine in its early days. This collection includes thirteen lean and mean stories from the fingertips of Garnett Elliott, Glenn Gray, John Hornor Jacobs, Patricia Abbott, Thomas Pluck, Brad Green, Ron Earl Phillips, Kent Gowran, Amy Grech, Benoit Lelievre, Kieran Shea, David Cranmer, and Wayne D. Dundee and a boiled down look at hardboiled fiction in an introduction by Ron Scheer. Edited by David Cranmer and Scott D. Parker.

Plum Blossoms in Paris by Sarah Hina ($3.99)

In her debut novel, Hina tracks a poetic Parisian romance between an American tourist and a French writer. Daisy, a 23-year-old neuroscience grad, has dropped her lab-rat life in Ohio for an open-ended trip to Paris after getting dumped by her longtime boyfriend. Named by her father after Henry James's novella, Daisy is "trying to outrun a broken heart" in her search for "the iconic bohemian chase" experienced by great 20th-century writers and artists in Montmartre. On her train ride to the city from the airport, she has a chance encounter with Mathieu, a writer and tour guide. They meet again by happenstance at the Musée d'Orsay and fall into a whirlwind affair. The lovers set out on one of Mathieu's city-wide tours, playfully debating current events, art, literature, and their disparate cultures. Hina's unrelenting lyrical composition may turn some readers off, but the tone brings a fantastical quality to the dreamer's idyll of a romantic tryst with an artistic Frenchman in Paris.

An Uncommon Crusade by Caron Guillo ($2.99)

Only God can save them now . . .

Elisabeth, Simon, and Hugo join an ill-fated commoner’s crusade to Jerusalem in search of wealth, glory, and redemption. But their dreams are destroyed when Elisabeth and Simon are sold into slavery and Hugo finds himself adrift at sea.

From the dark forests of thirteenth century Germany, through treacherous alpine passes, to a sprawling estate in Egypt, three lives become linked in a desperate journey.

Tears of Like Souls by Val Conrad ($7.99)

Medical Examiner Investigator Julie Madigan might have survived her half-brother's brutal crime spree, but the emotional wounds left by Anthony Bock's evil run deep. She begins a walk down the path to healing with the one man who's always loved her - Zach Samualson, who works for the Drug Enforcement Agency. They begin to establish a new life together in Washington - until he reveals a secret of his own. Julie's torn between trusting him and running from her inner demons and the one question that's haunted her since she was sixteen -did Bock make her kill her father?

Through Her Eyes by Jennifer Archer ($9.99)

Every ghost has a story to tell.

The last place Tansy Piper wants to be is stuck in Cedar Canyon, Texas, in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of small-town kids. But when her mother decides to move to the desolate West Texas town, Tansy has no choice but to go along. Once there, Tansy is immediately drawn to the turret of their rickety old house, a place she soon learns has a disturbing history. But it's the strange artifacts she finds in the cellar—a pocket watch, a journal of poetry, and a tiny crystal—that have the most chilling impact on her.
Tansy soon finds that through the lens of her camera, she can become part of a surreal black-and-white world where her life is intertwined with that of mysterious, troubled Henry, who lived in the same house and died decades earlier. It seems their lives are linked by fate and the artifacts she found, but as Tansy begins spending more and more time in the past, her present world starts to fade away. Tansy must untangle herself from Henry's dangerous reality—before she loses touch with her own life forever.

The Pull of Gravity by Gae Polisner ($9.99)

While Nick Gardner’s family is falling apart, his best friend, Scooter, is dying from a freak disease. The Scoot’s final wish is that Nick and their quirky classmate, Jaycee Amato, deliver a prized first-edition copy of Of Mice and Men to the Scoot’s father. There’s just one problem: the Scoot’s father walked out years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. So, guided by Steinbeck’s life lessons, and with only the vaguest of plans, Nick and Jaycee set off to find him.

Characters you’ll want to become friends with and a narrative voice that sparkles with wit make this a truly original coming-of-age story.

Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles Vol. II by Edward Grainger ($0.99)

Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles Vol. II continues to chronicle the tales of two unorthodox 19th century U.S. Marshals. With seven more adventures, this collection includes the novella "Origin of White Deer" where the outlaw marshal leaves his Arapaho home as a teen to find his roots in the lawless town of Cheyenne, Wyoming. These noir tales infuse the Western genre with a fresh perspective on topics like race relations and social justice while still delivering pulse-racing action in the tradition of Wanted: Dead or Alive and Gunsmoke.

DEADLY BY THE DOZEN by various authors (myself included) ($2.99)

Twelve Short Stories of Murder and Mayhem written by an eclectic group of writers. Ranging from tough and gritty to light and comic and every landscape in between, DEADLY BY THE DOZEN promises to entertain, chill, thrill and inspire. Edited by award-winning thriller author Mark Terry.

Operation: Midnight Guardian by Linda Castillo ($3.99)

MIDNIGHT IN MONTANA
When a federal transport was ambushed and overturned in the wilds of Montana, MIDNIGHT agent Sean Cutter was given forty-eight hours to track down a desperate woman. But falsely accused, Mattie Logan didn't want to be saved. It was Sean's job to convince her otherwise.

A former Department of Defense scientist now targeted by the terrorist known only as the Jaguar, Mattie couldn't risk betrayal again. But neither could Sean. Caught out in the blistering cold, Mattie sought shelter beneath Sean's broad shoulders, each needing the other's warmth to stay alive. But would trusting one another prove to be more difficult than clearing Mattie's name?

The Man in the Cinder Clouds by Rick Daley ($4.99)

The freezing temperature is the only thing cool about Jason’s trip to the North Pole, but things heat up when his father discovers a book buried deep in the ice. This is no ordinary book, mind you. For starters, it was written by an Elf. And if that’s not enough, the book proves the existence of Kris Kringle—you know, Santa Claus.

Born human but abandoned as a baby, Kris is rescued by Elfs and grows up among them…but he doesn’t really fit in. Kris embarks on a quest to find his true family among the humans by delivering presents on Christmas day. But there’s a catch: the High Council of Elfs is convinced humans are wicked at heart, and Kris can’t return to his Elfin home unless he can prove otherwise.

His journey takes him all the way to the legendary Great Northern Glen, and from there to the town of Oldenton, where he finds two orphans who are about to lose everything they have to a greedy uncle. With only days before Christmas, Kris must try to help the kids, deliver his presents, find his family, and prove that human virtue does exist…even in the most unexpected of human hearts.

Whispers by Travis Erwin (that would be me) ($0.99)

A collection of two short stories, and a memoir vignette.

Three tales range in setting from the lonely solitude of a high mountain trail, to a quiet suburban neighborhood, to the stress-filled halls of a Childrens hospital. Collectively the trio of stories share a bond rooted in the most abstract of human emotions ... fear, hope, and love.

Liar's Fire by Dee Burks ($0.99)

Three Dates. Three Hours. No Commitment. No Kidding. It seemed like a really good idea at the time to Serena Finley, editor of the Cranfield Reporter-Star. Faking a romance couldn't be that hard could it? No one said it had to be real and if everyone thought she was in love, they'd stop hounding her to find a man. Serena knew she could do this and no one would ever be the wiser - best case scenario. Then Tyler Cooper walked into her life and best case scenario became iffy. He fit her idea of Mr. Wrong in every way. From a failing business, to limited social skills, Tyler would never have made her list of datable men. He was a cowboy for heaven's sake, who probably wouldn't know cashmere if it bit him in the butt. But she needed his help and he needed hers, which made him perfect. Until tonight. Somewhere in the midst of the pretend and the lies, her heart had been drawn to his. His kisses stirred her soul while his friendship gave her the strength to deal with old hurts and past heartaches. Serena knew this had no future. She was bound for Manhattan; Tyler was determined to stay in Texas. Would she risk everything for a chance at real love? Or walk away from this flame with her heart in ashes?

The New Face of Jazz: An Intimate Look at Today's Living Legends and the Artists of Tomorrow by Cicily Janus ($18.99)

Jazz is thriving in the twenty-first century, and The New Face of Jazz is an intimate, illustrated guide to the artists, venues, and festivals of today's jazz scene. This book celebrates the living legends, current stars, and faces of tomorrow as they continue to innovate and expand the boundaries of this great musical legacy.
In their own words, artists such as McCoy Tyner, Arturo Sandoval, Diane Schuur, Terence Blanchard, Charlie Hunter, Nicholas Payton, George Benson, Maria Schneider, Christian McBride, Randy Brecker, Jean-Luc Ponty, Joe Lovano, Lee Ritenour, and more than 100 others share intimately about their beginnings, musical training, inspiration, and hard-earned lessons, creating a fascinating mosaic of the current jazz community.
Photographer Ned Radinsky contributes 40 amazing black-and-white portraits of these musicians doing what they do best—playing. An appendix offers resources for jazz education; an exclusive reading list; and the lowdown on those organizations and societies doing their part to promote jazz as a living, breathing art form.

Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by various authors ($2.99)

Echoes of yesterday touch the lives of ordinary people in extraordinary ways in 19 provocative stories by some of the best up-and-coming authors of mainstream and speculative fiction around the world.

The Feedstore Chronicles by Travis Erwin ($6.99)

Welcome to Pearl's Feed and Seed -- Most coming-of-age stories are fraught with symbolism, hidden metaphors, and a heaping mound of other literary devices. Not this one. Not mine. You see, I came of age while working at a dusty Texas feedstore. A place where To Kill a Mockingbird involved a twelve-year-old and a BB gun. Of Mice and Men was a problem easily solved with rat poison. And David Copperfield was nothing more than a dude that made shit disappear. In the spring of 1989, I went to work at Pearl's Feed and Seed for a man named Doyle Suggs. On the surface Doyle and I had little in common: I was a rosy-cheeked boy of sixteen; he was a twice-divorced, thirty-year-old high school dropout. I had yet to go on my first date; he was trading sex for horse feed in the back room. Sure, Doyle was a lout, a liar, and a lecherous derelict. To this day, he remains the most morally bankrupt man I've ever met, yet my life wouldn't be half as blessed, had I missed out on his misguided education. The Feedstore

Forgive me, but I cheated and added more than one title of my own.

The Wonder of Ordinary Magic by Lilli Day ($2.99)

Bobby Weaver is a brother, an uncle, a husband, and a successful young writer who just happens to be in a coma. As he continues to work on his own unfinished novel, a murder mystery set along The Appalachian Trail, he shares his thoughts about his current situation, his family, and life in general. Interwoven throughout the book with Bobby's irreverent voice are the viewpoints of six other characters as we move through one day in their busy lives. From a spirited four-year-old, to a grieving seventy-three year old, we are introduced to the people in this young writer's life and a spare, bittersweet story unfolds with an unexpected and poignant ending.

Resonance by Avery Debow ($2.99)

Resonance Murphy cares about only one member of the world's population—herself. So, when the self-applauded master of irresponsibility moves to the Maryland Eastern Shore town of Tyne and discovers the fate of all humanity rests on her shoulders, she's more than a little irked.

Thousands of years ago, seven benevolent gods drove their evil brother, Ta-gul, into a collapsing dimension. Now, Ta-gul is about to re-emerge in Tyne and Resonance is the warrior fated to destroy him. With a murderous dark magician; an ancient cult; a desperate fallen goddess; and a mysterious, tattooed young woman each intent on thwarting her by any means, Resonance must put aside her inhibitions and finally place her trust in someone besides herself.

Fearful of the coming days and fascinated by the mercurial young woman, necromancer Quinn Lehrer aligns himself with Resonance. As Quinn helps the reluctant warrior run the gantlet of reality-bending trials that will give her the power to defeat Ta-gul, a series of terrible revelations will force him to decide if Resonance is truly worth aiding.

As the clock ticks down to Ta-gul's ascension, the unlikely couple find themselves in a labyrinth of choice and consequence, where each decision sheds new light on Resonance's long-forgotten past, and brings the reluctant warrior closer to the moment when she will become either the savior of humanity—or the catalyst for its downfall.

Gone Never Forgotten by Natalie Bright ($4.99)

Words for hope and healing after the loss of a baby. Rhymed and free verse poems, uplifting Bible verse, and personal insight based on the author's own loss.

I'm sure I have left one friend or another off and for that I apologize but hopefully I have included at least one title that all you e-reading folks (new and otherwise) will find interesting enough to purchase. And thank you for supporting me and my writing friends.

Tintin

2011-12-23T16:08:00.000-06:00

I have my friend Alex Keto to thank for introducing Tintin to my family. Like so many of you Alex mailed my boys books after our house burned and the books he sent were some of the many Adventures of Tintin.

Right away my boys took to the the books and over the last several years they have read each one countless times. If I'm honest the books didn't do a whole lot for me. Sure they were amusing tales but I've never been a huge comic book or graphic novel kind of guy so I read them only so as to discuss them with my boys.

But any book or series that gets them to read is top notch on my eyes so when we heard there was a movie coming out I pledged to take them on opening night.

Our adventure to see Tintin the movie turned into quite the caravan as along with my wife and I and our two boys (age 9 and 11) we had my niece (10) and nephew (5), a young seminarian poet (23), and a young lady (18). Before I go on in detail about the movie let me say ALL 8 of us enjoyed the movie.

A month or so back I read an article that some religious group (twas either Southern Baptists or a Evangelical Christian group but despite internet searches I can not find the article) was urging a boycott of the film. The group claimed that the Tintin works were both racist and promoted alcoholism. The article explained that the issue wasn't with the movie but the collection of books.

Given that I am a contrary sort of guy the protests did nothing more than make me more eager to see the film. I hate being told not to do something based on the personal opinions of someone else.

The animation in the movie was stunning. As good as I've ever seen.

And I found the rum loving sea captain quite entertaining. He is kind of the anti-Popeye and I admire a fella who gets a bit of life saving strength from a good stiff drink rather than a can of evil green spinach.But I suppose of you are a teetotaling fun-hater Captain Haddocks drinking might bother you. Then again if you are a fun-hater you probably are not going to like the high speed chases, the gun battles, the sword fighting, treasure hunting adventure that makes up the movie.

The writers of the movie did a great job of capturing the spirit of the characters literary persona and yes the hijinks are outlandish in an Indiana Jones sort of way but my entire gang, found the film to me a very entertaining family adventure worthy of the price of admission.

Now where did I put that bottle of rum?

Yes, I Am A Pirate

2011-12-20T16:18:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow I turn 39.

Given that fact I do believe this should be my theme song for the next 12 months. I do like Jimmy Buffet, but Jack Johnson's mellow vibe on this song really appeals to me which is why I shared his version.

Looking at 40.

I've never actually met a Mayan, but according to them the world will end on my 40th birthday ... 12/21/2012 but the date doesn't scare me much. After all, how damn smart could the Mayans be if none of them survived? And marking 4 decades among the living sure beats the alternative. However, as I age I do find myself reflecting on life ... past, present, and future more often.

I am thankful for the experiences I've had in life, lucky to have survived more than a few of them, and blessed to be where I am at. I thank you for sharing the last several years with me here on this blog and I hope to see you a few of you at my 40th/End of Times Birthday bash. yes there will be one and 12/21/2012 falls on a Friday so make plans to attend now.

Take care my friends and in case I don't post again before then, have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Fantabulous Festivus.

Chicken Feed

2011-12-18T12:55:00.000-06:00

My wife and friends had feed store shirts made for the release party and a dozen or so wanted shirts so she had ordered a second batch.

There are a few left in a variety of sizes so I'm going to hold a contest. Anyone who posts a blog or Facebook post with a direct link to THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES on either Amazon or Barnes & Noble is eligible to win one of these shirts. Say what you want about the book or me but tag me (if on facebook) or email or leave a comment (if on blog) so I'll know you posted.

Drawing will be December 26th and winner can choose from available sizes ranging XXL to Medium.

If I Knew Then, What I Know Now

2011-12-10T14:25:00.000-06:00

It's been a long time since I espoused on the craft of writing and this post is going to be conglomeration of tidbits I've picked up over the years more than it is a comprehensive look at any particular facet. But for whatever reason I feel compelled to chat about the craft today. These are things I wish I had understood a decade ago.

Be Bold, Be Daring, Be a Pirate

Like the first 20 seconds of that video, I heard a lot of stuff about the rules, the code if you will, when I first began writing. A decade in and I can tell you there are no rules, sure there are some guidelines but nothing, and I repeat nothing is completely off the table.

But not all pirates are created equal. The lazy, the sloppy, the careless wind up swinging from a rope or hanging with Davy Jones. It pays to know the so-called rules so that you know when you are breaking them and you do so with swagger, with style, with a purpose.

It's Who You Know

Yeah, it would be nice if Jeff Bezos happened to be your next door neighbor, or if Sessalee Hensley happened to be your husband's first cousin, but few of us are that fortunate. Besides I happen to view "IT'S WHO YOU KNOW THAT REALLY MATTERS" as more more Cerberian creature with three distinct heads. And not one of those craniums is tied to being kin with a giant in the business so this is no monster to fear.


photo by ukdavew	via PhotoRee

Head One - Network. Get to know other writers and people in the publishing business. Make friends with them. And by make friends I do not mean hound, harass, and harangue by pleading those folks to read your books. I mean interact, be sociable, be friendly. You can do this by attending conferences, workshops, facebooking, tweeting, and a variety of other means.

Head Two - Know your characters. Before you start writing their story. Sure surprises and new twists will develop but if you know your character beforehand the writing will go much smoother. I write vignettes for every character. I try to choose emotional significant events from the character's life. First kisses, traumatic heartbreaks, fights (verbal or physical) they may have had. I don;t try to make these complete stories but voyeuristic capsules into my characters emotional reactions at a variety of times in their life prior to the beginning of my story. For POV characters I write 5 or 6 of these and for secondary characters one or two.

Head Three - Know your audience. And write with them in mind. You have to please yourself first but by having a target audience will keep you on track.

Trust Your Gut

Unless of course it's telling you to eat a salad. In that case it is most likely possessed by the devil but that is a blog for another day. What I'm saying is writing is a personal endeavor and while you must be objective enough to realize constructive criticism when you see it, you smut also have to ability to politely smile and then do whatever the hell you think is necessary to tell the story you want told. If it feels wrong, even if your mentor, or JK Rowling, or a college professor with a PhD in English says so, have the conviction to leave it the hell alone. Write the story you want to write.

Remember

You started writing because you love with reading and great literature. You wanted to spin tales that other will talk about for years to come. You were eager to release the colorful and imaginary words swirling within your skull. It was fun to write ... right up until it became a publish at all costs quest. Right up until it became a business. Right up until it became deadlines, expectations, and disappointing rejections.

I'm not naive to think you can totally escape those shackles once they've clamped on, but as a guy who has struggled with this at times let me say it is important to sit back, breathe, and reflect every once in a while how and why you came to be chasing the writing dream. it is important to reread those authors and books that inspired you in the beginning. it is important to remember the joy of writing.

And for those that do not follow me on Facebook or Twitter THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES is now available for both the Kindle and Nook formats as well as paperback.

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!0 Worst Christmas Songs

2011-12-01T13:47:00.000-06:00

December 1st.

Seems like a good time to make a confession.

I despise Christmas music. Now before the shouts of Ebenezer get too loud let me point out it's not the holiday or season I dislike simply the soundtrack. Well, that and the glitter.

In honor of my confession I'm going to rank the 10 Worst (Fairly Well-Known) Christmas Songs. Sure there are even bigger monstrosities out there. Every Christmas song by the Beach Boys, the festive slop mainstream country hurls from Nashville, and those damn screechy Chipmunks but I tried to focus on the ones that radio stations play every hours this month.

10) You Are a Mean One, Mr Grinch - We tell our kids not to be bullies and yet here is this song that does nothing but belittle and ridicule. I dislike green things as much as anyone but where the the holiday cheer in this one?

9) The Twelve Days Of Christmas - True love my ass. better than half the crap on that list is worthless or flat out irritating. and speaking of being irritated the repetitive nature of this song makes it the B-I-N-G-O of yuletide entertainment.

8) All I Want For Christmas Is You - Who wrote
this? John Hinckley Jr?

7) A Wonderful Christmas Time - Come on Paul McCartney. Quit trying to pretend you are as talented as John Lennon was. Lennon's Happy Christmas had meaning. Your song is a cancerous ear worm that lingers in it's victims longer than fruitcake in the pantry.

6) Santa Claus Is Coming To Town - The musical equivalent to George Orwell's novel 1984. And yet another reason to fear Big Brother.

5) Christmas Shoes - Hey let's all gather 'round and sing a song about momma dying. Yeah, That's festive.

4) Santa Baby - Nothing creates that giving spirit like a song glorifying gold diggers.

3) All I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas - This little ditty teaches our kids bad rhymes and promotes unreasonable expectations.

2) I Saw Mamma Kissing Santa - Gotta love a song calling mom out as a two-timing whore.

1) Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer - This song has it all ... alcoholism (grandma staggering around drunk on eggnog), death (grandma), compassion (grandpa already trifling around with cousin Belle), necrophilia (incriminating Clause marks on her back), sacrilege (disparaging SAINT Nick as a blond fool) ... all wrapped up in a horrendously gaudy package.

So tell me what bad holiday song did I miss?

Cock-A-Doodle-Do & Glitter My Sack

2011-11-29T12:26:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Meaning we are now officially in Christmas season. A season rife with traditions. And what is a tradition. Nothing more than a glorified rerun. So in honor of my own tradition here at ONE WORD I am rerunning this post which I modify and tweak each year before reposting as a service announcement.

Last night I did something I rarely do. No, I did not eat any green leafy vegetables. I said something I RARELY do, not NEVER do.

I plopped down on the couch and watched TV. All night long. I didn't read, I didn't write, I didn't even ponder the comings and goings of the characters in my stories. I simply shut down my brain and watched the boob tube. And Network TV to boot. This morning, I am dumber for the experience. (Actually last night I watched my beloved New Orleans Saints kick the tinsel out of her, New York Giants, but like I said this is a old post so play along)

Here is a rundown of what I saw.

A Muppet Christmas special called Letters to Santa. As a former Fraggle Rocker I can appreciate Jim Henson's creation, but this one lost me right from the get-go, when they opened with a big musical sing-a-long at the New York City Post Office. Trust me when I say, "Ain't nobody singing and dancing at the ol' PO this time of year." Or any other as far as that goes.

And another inaccuracy. There wasn't any glitter in the air. This time of year all of us that work on the mail sorting equipment look as if we've just returned from a stripper convention in Vegas.

That's right. All that shiny glitter you attach to your Christmas cards ends up in the bottom of the PO's automated machinery and when I have to change a belt or whatever, I come away looking like the love child of Tinker Bell and Sasquatch. So do all us Postal employees a favor and save the glitter for your kids school party, or help out an exotic dancer and donate it to your local gentleman's club.

After the Muppets, we joined an in progress Christmas story about a little orphan girl, an elf, a polar bear, and a fox all looking for Santa's sack. Okay, maybe my mind us filthier that a reindeer turd, but couldn't the writer's have called it Santa's bag instead of sack. And did the fabric have to be flesh colored? And did the animals have to crawl out of said container and say, "Santa needs to do some housecleaning because that is one nasty sack?"

Jay Leno narrated and Brad Garret and Norm McDonald both voiced characters in this poorly written kids story.

But wait, it wasn't just the shows that were bad. Let's talk about the commercials. Particularly the pharmaceutical ads. Is it really appropriate to advertise Cialis, an erectile dysfunction med, during a childrens show? Especially one about Santa's sack? And why do those people have not one, but two, bathtubs in their back yard? And I thought the whole point of taking Cialis was to share ye olde yuletime log. How can you do that from the comfort of you own backyard tub? Wouldn't they need to be in one tub together in order to jingle their bells. Am I alone in these thoughts?

And then there was the one about the insomnia aid Ambien. No wonder that woman can't sleep she has a rooster roaming around freely inside her house. Instead of wasting her money on pills she should invest in screens for her windows. Or maybe she's tossing and turning because she went to bed hungry. A big chicken dinner would probably solve all of her problems. Don't you think?

UPDATE on Cialis ADS

Last night I spied a Cialis ad where a dude was pitching an actual tent. Now that is a subtle message about the drug's capabilities. I wonder if next month they'll have a fireman polishing the big brass pole down at the station. Or a zookeeper doling out corporal punishment to an unruly monkey? Maybe a farmer giving the Heimlich to a chicken with grain caught in its throat? Maybe they can get the same fowl from the Ambian ads?

What does a weasel look like?

Good Times

2011-11-28T09:06:00.001-06:00

I've put off this post far too long but I wanted to give more of y'all a chance to read THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES before I posted these pics.

I am extremely blessed to have a great wife as well as very good friends. Together they tossed me a party in honor of TFC's release.

Without further adieu I bring you the photographic evidence of a very fun night for me.

I APPRECIATED THE THOUGHT BUT THAT GIANT ASS PICTURE DID STRIKE ME AS FUNERAL-ESQUE

DON'T KNOW WHY BLOGGER DECIDED TO LOAD THIS SIDEWAYS BUT SEEING AS TO HOW MOST OF THE ATTENDEES FINISHED THE NIGHT SEEING SIDEWAYS PERHAPS IT IS APPROPRIATE. THE EVENT WAS HELD AT BAR Z WINERY JSUT SOUTH OF AMARILLO.

I'M STILL GETTING USED TO THE WHOLE "SIGNING" THING BUT NOT THE PEARL BEER BOTTLE. ALSO NOTE I AM ACTUALLY DRINKING SHINER

IT'S ABOUT HERE THAT SOME OF THE PHOTOS GET FUZZY. AGAIN LIKE MOST OF THE ATTENDEES. THE LIGHTS IN THE HORIZON ARE AMARILLO.

NOTICE THERE IS NOTHING GREEN ON THOSE PLATES.

I FOUND IT QUITE FUNNY THAT PARTICULAR QUOTE WAS BEING WORN BY A DOZEN OR SO WOMEN

SO HERE THEY ARE. MUCH OF THE GANG THAT HELPED TO INSPIRE THE BOOK. (FROM RIGHT TO LEFT WITH THE NAME YOU WOULD KNOW THEM AS) - DOYLE, LAURA, JENNIFER, ME, HOUSTON, DALLAS, AND AUSTIN'S STUNT DOUBLE)

LIZ AND DEE THE POWERS THAT BE AT TAG PUBLISHING AND THERE HUSBANDS WHO I'M CERTAIN WIELD THEIR OWN BRAND OF POWER (when Liz and Dee allow for it)

MONTY, THE OWNER AND PROPRIETOR AT BAR Z. AS YOU CAN SEE, HE TOO LIKES TO SPIN A TALE OR TWO

MY WIFE JENNIFER, LISSA, AND MY SISTER-IN-LAW STEPHANIE. NO, I DIDN'T BREAK HER ARM BECAUSE SHE REFUSED TO SPORT A PEARL'S SHIRT AND PEARL NECKLANCE IN MY HONOR

ME AND "DOYLE" SURROUNDED BY FAR BETTER LOOKING WOMEN THAN FREQUENTED THE FEEDSTORE. THOUGH THAT EXPRESSION ON LISSA'S FACE IS PURE FEEDSTORE ECSTASY.

HERE IS A GANG OF PEOPLE READING IN AN ATTEMPT TO FIGURE OUT WHAT EXACTLY "YOU WANNA HELP ME FEED THE CHICKENS?" MEANS.

ME AND THE FAMED DEBORAH ELLIOTT-UPTON

ME AND MONTY DIXON THE MAN BEHIND BAR Z WINE.

Pearls

2011-11-19T13:46:00.001-06:00

I'm always taking pictures on my phone of things that at the time I think ... that will make a funny or at least interesting tidbit for the blog. Then I forget what I was going to say or I simply never figure out a way to build a post around the image.

So today I'm going to toss out a few of these ...

I have no idea why taking a shot of my oldest son dangling beneath a bronze gorilla's bung seemed like a good idea, but here it is.

From an Ape's ass to a pig's. The segue makes sense here but again not sure why I've save this photo in my phone.

What is it like to live here in the Texas Panhandle? ...

Some days it's hot ...

Others it is cold ...

I believe I was bothered that they actually had to print instruction on how to pull a paper towel from this apparatus.

Rub and Buff? You think there is a warning on the back of this product about going blind after prolonged use?

This product sounds more like a venereal disease than anything I want spread on my sandwich.

This is the logo from a local Christian school. I know many fine people who send their kids there and I'm sure the staff is excellent as well as the education received there but every time I see this logo I ask why they chose sperm as their mascot.

Should I be offended that despite being under 40 they did not card me?

If you are a weight loss franchise do you really want your name associated with big rotund items like hot air balloons?

Deck the halls. Beer halls that is.

And last, but certainly not least, I offer photographic proof that I have the greatest wife in the world.

Those who have not read THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES might not get the reference but those that have have to appreciate the fact my wife had these shorts made for herself and a few other friends at the release party last week where they were so popular that she ended up taking orders from others who wanted one. The front reads Pearls Feed and Seed and they are quite fetching along with vulgar in a very subtle way.

And yes, that is a Pearl Necklace she was wearing in honor of the book and my twisted sense of humor.

SAVE TRAVIS OR HE ONLY GETS LEAFY GREENS UNTIL I RELEASE HIM

2011-11-18T06:25:00.003-06:00

I know, I know you all opened this page to read the words of the monster sized man from Amarillo and you wound up with me instead and as you sit there scratching your head wondering who the hell is this? I said to myself…well if you’re going to be that way then I should explain.

My name is Mark Durfee AKA The Walking Man and I live in Detroit. I am a poet without much of a sense of what poetry is, except poetic justice.

Four years ago there was a mayor in Detroit named Kwame Kilpatrick, he was busted for lying under oath during a lawsuit and in the course of events it was discovered that not only had he been schtuping his chief of staff, but about a half dozen other women, none of them named Carlita which happens to be his wife’s name. Now once he was tried and convicted and put on probation a kind Detroit multimillionaire named Peter Karmanos of Compuware fame and a few other kind multimillionaires paid to move Kwame, his wife, (whom Kwame may have started schtuping again because she probably put a leash on that hog,) and their kids to Dallas.

Seeing as Travis is always remarking on his size 6’5 280 and Kwame is exactly the same size, I could feel, with all that weight in Texas, the world shifting too far on its axis, so I traveled down to the Lone Star State and to decide which of these huge hunks of meat I needed to force back to the north to stop the earth from tipping too far. Well the short of it was after a great dirty, dusty and hours long fight, I (who am much smaller comparatively to Travis) but from Detroit, which comes with its own cache of dirty fighting, hog tied the big man from Amarillo and threw him in the back of his own pick up truck (my Honda was too small) and hauled him to what we affectionately call the “D.”

I could have hauled Kwame back but we have had enough of that grazer of feed store swine product. Besides by the time Travis escapes from the evil clutches of the D the feds will be hauling Kwame back here to face 25 or so indictments for running a criminal enterprise while mayor. And then the world as you have come to know it will be right again and the axis will be back in proper alignment. You could acknowledge your gratitude for me saving the planet from tipping over but I am humble enough to know you are grateful without forcing you to say it.

So here is the deal, you put up with one piece of my poetry, make a shit ton (that is a feed store measurement) of comments and I will release Travis and his pick up truck to go back to Texas but only because the Feds really are bring the Detroit Dog back here for a federal trial. In the interim you will have to click through to HERE to not only take yourself to the D but to check up on Mr. Erwin’s welfare seeing as I left him with only his hands unbound sitting at my rusty old computer in zip code (that is Postal Service talk that Travis told me about during our ride North) 48205; which is the most murderous zip code in the most murderous city in America. So now you are aware of the deal and you and you alone have the power to save Mr. Travis Erwin not only from Detroit but if you fail and I have to keep him here I am changing his squirrel and quail stew diet to one of only leafy green vegetables.

There was a kid named Travis Erwin

who grew up in a place called Pearls Feed and Seed

run by a reprobate named Doyle Suggs.

Now Doyle or Mr. Suggs a wise man of three ex wives

(two he married twice)

was prone to espousing to Travis

a young fella’s need for “getting in the girl” advice.

Erwin, at the time not the brightest bulb in the chandelier,

tried ever trick Suggs suggested at age sixteen years

went every which way Doyle sent him to get his manhood vested.

AND THAT IS THE PREMISE FOR THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES

But by far the sweetest part of the book is that it comes to a right ending.

OK now that doesn’t count as the poem of mine, even though there is a countable iambic meter in there if someone knows how to count that shit. That is what we call a hook so you will spend your time purchasing and reading Travis’ book. Though it’s not Bukowski, in a prose sort of way The Feedstore Chronicles comes close to some of Hanks poetry.

Now to torture you my work is below, it’s an old piece but one of my favorites. It appears in my second book of poetry which you can buy from me if you want it.

Cobblestone Kisses II

I saw a shoeless girl,

about 4.

Dancing on cobblestones

in pure bliss.

Each and every cobble

she touched gave her bare feet

a smiling loving kiss.

I wondered as I watched

Where she got the joy

to dance like that;

fluttering dress,

twirling, blessed

mindless bliss,

in a place so lacking in romance.

Dance though she did,

on and on laughing, loving, living

while she had the chance,

to be dancing carelessly to a music

only she could hear.

I wished I could be that way again

mindlessly joyful with cobbles dear

kissing my bare feet

soothing my mind taking my fear.

Wishing for a childhood

not knowing what lay ahead.

Better yet I’d like the freedom to be

dancing now this moment, this day

letting the smooth stones

take my care away.

Laughter and smiles come

so easy to children loved,

with nothing amiss

all the little ones should

be dancing and twirling in joy

as the cobblestones deliver

their loving bare feet kindest kiss.

9-2-05

12-22-09(rev)

Pink Dragon Poop

2011-11-17T08:15:00.000-06:00

I'm not a shy guy. Public speaking has never bothered me but today I'll admit to a few butterflies. As I type this I am about 4 hours away from speaking at a local civic organizations monthly luncheon. I've spoken to writers groups, a few book clubs and even taught writing classes to both kids and adults, but this is my first general assembly type of talk.

My idea to forgo a written speech and speak off the cuff seemed like a good idea as recently as last night, but this morning I'm feeling a tad more dubious over that decision, after Lettuce Is the Devil my secopnd favorite personal creed is Baffle 'em with Bullshit. I sure hope it works this time.

Speaking of bullshit, tomorrow morning me and the talented poet known as THE WALKING MAN, Mark Durfee are engaging in a blog swap of fantastical fecal fun. Hope you check out our B.S. laden posts.

In other guest post and blogging news, I danced with dragons yesterday while giving out a few tips on writing memoirs.

And today, I have the honor of making the talented Deborah Elliott-Upton blush over at the Sleuth Sayers blog.

Stop by and say high to these fine ladies if you get the chance.

'Rasslin

2011-11-15T11:24:00.000-06:00

I have several blog post I want to get written including one with pictures and commentary of the party and wife my friends threw for the release of THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES. My former boss at the feedstore was in attendance along with 2 of his 3 sons and one ex wife. Yes the one that twice tried to kill him so I of course have some interesting tales to share about our little reunion the other night, but today I wanna share what has to be the most outlandish dream I've ever had.

As anyone who follows me on Facebook or twitter already knows my world is completely consumed with book promo at the moment. And while it is probably not productive or even healthy to do so I check my Amazon sales rank at least half a dozen times a day. After the initial sales burst the book's ranking has fallen a but but at its peak, THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES reached #478 on the list of all books and #38 among books in the humor category.

Humor has lots of stiff competition with many of the books having been written by celebrities and that I presume was the catalyst for my peculiar nocturnal illusion last night.

The dream started with a call from my publisher. We'll call her Dee, because well that is her name.

Dee tells me to be at such and sch address at 8 PM sharp for a special Amazon promo guaranteed to raise my sales ranking. When I show up she hands me some bright red tights and a pair of electric blue wrestling boots. Quickly explaining I am to wrestle the other authors in my category she says, "Do whatever it takes to win because your rank depends on it."

And this is when it gets really weird.

I enter the arena under a barrage of boos. Now I'll be the first to admit I'm no Adonis so strutting around in red boots and lace up blue boots is not a look all that becoming, but still I could't help be be taken aback by the fan's venom.

Then the announcer grabbed the PA and shouted my opponents name. America's Favorite Funnyman ... Bill Cosby.

The crowd cheered wildly as Mr. Pudding Pop himself made his way to the ring. Cosby's latest book was released the same day as THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES and while his tome has stayed atop the ranking there was a short time where I was actually ahead of him on Amazon.

Just as he didn't asked to be born, I didn't ask to fight him but that is what I did. And amid a chorus of hate-filled taunts I kicked Cosby's ass right there in that ring. I pinned him following a piledriver but the jog back to dressing room was rougher than anything Heathcliff Huxtable dished out.

Dee was quite excited I'd won but I wasn't feeling so good. Sure I'd given an old man a beat down but now all of America seemed to hate me for it. "Don't worry," Dee said. "Everyone loves a winner. Keep kicking butt and they will come around."

A few minutes later I was again summoned to the ring. This time the crowd cheered wildly. My opponent was already in the ring. Tucker Max, of I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell fame.

The crowd threw their beer at Max who is a self-proclaimed asshole and womanizer. Happy to be the good guy in the bout me I tore into to Tucker but he proved a tough opponent. At one point his bit me on the nose but I finally triumphed and knocked him out cold with a flying elbow.

And then my dream got even more strange.

I was slated to fight Tina Fey, which sounded kinda like fun to me but before the bell could ring both Alec and Stephen Baldwin attacked me from behind.

The Baldwins beat the hell out of my kicking and stomping while shouting, "How does it feel to get your ass kicked by a vegetarian!"

The referee disqualified Tina Fey and despite the being bloodied and bruised I moved on in the big Amazon Wrestling Extravaganza. AWE for short.

I'd made it the main event and Dee was excited. Her partner at TAG Publishing Liz showed up to give me some pointers. She had been scouting all the matches and informed me I;d be battling Chelsea Handler for the title. Now some of you long time readers may recall my twitter campaign a year or so back to convince Chelsea to consider my work for her new book imprint and while I did eventually manage to get a tweet and a message from Chelsea that was as far as things ever got.

Liz explained that Chelsea had won all her matches by fighting dirty. She'd distracted Ellen DeGeneres by flashing her boobs, seduced Anthony Bourdain into submission, and stabbed David Sedaris in the abdomen with a high heel.

But when we got to the ring, Chelsea was yawning and proclaiming loudly she was bored with all this fighting fuss. Besides, Chelsea said, "I only like to roll around with black guys, so I'm going to let Chuy fight this one for me.

That is when I got cocky. And pissed. Because I'd been looking forward to to grappling with someone with Chelsea's assets, but instead of a pretty blond I'd be groping a fat wee little sweaty Latino. But for the first time I thought, Yes I can be the humor king. If I can;t whip an old fat dude half my height I don't deserve to be at the top.

The bell rang.

Chuy screamed, "Viva La Mexico!" and ran at me.

midgety missile my red tight enshrouded gonads made direct contact with Chuy's onrushing forehead.

I fell to the mat.

Chuy pinned me.

Dee and Liz shook their head. "You were that close and you let an elf beat you."

I hung my head in shame and trudged from the arena amid the raucous chorus of VIVA LA MEXICO!

A sad dream for sure, but you my friends can help me sleep better at night. Buy a copy of THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES now for yourself and all your friends. Trust me, it will make a much better Christmas present than any of those other humor books. My leaping ability aside.

Down Louisiana Way

2011-11-12T15:58:00.000-06:00

Charles Gramlich, a man whose writing talent a greatly respect had a few questions for me.

Today, I answer them over at his blog.

Come see us.

Booze Hound

2011-11-11T09:24:00.000-06:00

I spotted this Lost and Found ad in my local paper yesterday and I simply had to share it.

Don't get me wrong, it's sad for anyone to lose a pet, but let's break down the this ad.

1) Is it ever wise to take your pet to the bar? Now the ad doesn't specify what they mean by taken. You see this particular bar is on 6th street here in Amarillo. 6th street is part of old Route 66 and this particular section of the road is an eclectic mix of antique stores, restaurants, nigh club, entertainment venues, and tattoo parlors. Several nightclubs allow dogs in the bar and there is a joint called the No Dogs Allowed Saloon nearby. So was this pooch left in an unlocked vehicle or was it curled beneath its owners stool? If the former then it is my belief the owner should have been smarter but if it is the latter than i gotta say it's a pretty low person who will steal a person's dog while they are drinking. Thought that does raise the question how drunk does a person have to be to not notice someone carrying off the canine beneath your seat?

2) I know crooks are dumb, but if you are gonna steal a dog why would you thieve a one-eyed one? Unless you yourself are a pirate and want a pet with a matching eye-patch I don't get this one. Of course my friend Lissa could be involved. She has a track history with one-eyed critters.

3) Why when describing a lost pet would you bother to include spayed? These ads cost by the word and given the fact that with some exploratory probing a person can not verify this information gotta say this was a wasted dime. If I;m going to waste cash by tossing in an extra word I;m gonna get my money;s worth and use something fun like onamonapia. Oh come on, don;t act like you enjoy the way onamonapia whishes off the tongue.

4) Pretty Girl? For a dog name? I don't like it. Maybe a parrot which leads back to my earlier pirate theory.

5) For any of you treasure seekers out there don't get to excited. I've been to Lowery's and frankly I';m rather skeptical any of the clientele there has five hundred smackers to be throwing around.

******

In other news my promotional blog tour for THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES is on going. Monday I was in Germany, today Canada where the ever gracious Beth Stewart let me surprise her readers. Hope on over and join the discussion.

And if you missed Stop 1 on the tour you can still check it out as well.