Keep your dreams in a paper cup, and when you’re thirsty…drink ’em up.

behold, my wooden gun.

I have a wooden gun that shoots rubber bands.

See? I told you there would be exciting news coming soon!

But seriously. Suddenly I’m everywhere you wanna be. Just like Visa.

There’s a review of CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN over here, thanks to Meryl, and there will be an article about me (me? me!) in the newest issue of The Lance, thanks to Cristina. I also may be appearing in the Windsor Star next week.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this might just be too much print about me for the universe to handle. But big thanks and whipped-cream-enhanced hugs go out to all who have deemed me worthy of writing about. I gave some pretty long-winded answers to the questions Cristina asked me, and she was left with the unenviable task of having to shave them down to something that wouldn’t put readers to sleep. Reading-induced narcolepsy is a tragic thing, particularly when I’m at the helm of it. Oh, the stories I could tell…but I won’t, because I wouldn’t want to make you weep.

One somewhat unexpected new development has been recording the music of someone other than myself for a change. This is something I haven’t done in any capacity in something like five years now. I’d forgotten what it was like. I should have taken pictures or filmed some video footage during the initial sessions to put up here, but that thought didn’t even occur to me until it was too late. More news about that as it develops, and envelopes, and sells cough drops. If you can fool people into believing Halls lozenges are actually barbiturates, you’ve already won at least a third of the battle. My heart goes out with you. Then it breaks up with you. Then it tries to win you back, but you’ve already moved on. There just ain’t no winnin’ way.


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