Monsters of the Book Like anything else, I suppose, it starts in childhood. Reading, that is, and wanting to write, and not always understanding what was going on with either impulse. I grew up in a large and verbal family, where we talked a great deal about almost everything. It is safe to say that
Fake Blood Fake blood Red color. Blue. I put it on carefully. It looks so real. Absolutely real. Although I’m not doing this for a living anymore, I’m still good. For twenty years I was a special effects artist. Now, I’m nobody. Four years before retirement, I got kicked out with fifteen more men. Our company
A Pack of Cigarettes This morning, as I sit at my computer in the bedroom, I hear the TV in the living room that is tuned to an Italian station. I’m trying to filter things out. Separate the laugh track from the joke, the crematorium from the barbeque. It all started when I found a
Excerpts from Terra Nova Dust 1. Then the noontime furnace. Heat shuddering up from the sand, the sky a plate, and out in the desert the tents of the Hebrews luffing in wind, their heavy curtains of goat hair thumping on the ropes; they lean and pull. Dust in your throat and eyes, dry film
