Busy.

Bree and I finished the layout of our doldrums of dookie, The A to Z of BM: A Book of Pooetry, and will be shopping it around to prospective publishers as soon as the proof copies gets back from the printer.

She is also finishing the artwork, along with Big Tasty, for our first Bubba the Bulldog children’s story. I have begun outlining the next 2 Bubba stories.

I was recently invited to write a number of stories for an upcoming set of horror comic anthologies in the vein of old E.C. comics, such as Tales From The Crypt. The first, Filthy Cake, will showcase absurd and scatological fare. The second, The Pit And The Compendium, will feature more dark and psychological subject matter.

I have written 4 stories:

Unhappy Meal, with artist Matt Deterior.

A Girl’s Ghoulish Game, with artist J Spencer Shull.

The Loadsome Death of Dana Plato, with artist Mistah Scoops.

Rabbit Habit, with artists Frank Ready III and Carrie South.

The anthologies, hosted by Nicolas Caesar and Matt Deterior, features a slew of amazing artists and writers, such as Red Tash, Axel Howerton, Taco Comics, George Ford, Mike Schneider, Carl Addis, Alaric Barca, Anthony Rapino, Chris Cinder, Anne-Marie Woolley, Micahel Adam, Jill Riker, Mike Hates Meathook, Dustin A. Sklavos, Brandon Witte, Lou Rusconi, Big Tasty, Adam Messinger, John Thomason, Justin Aerni, Michele Witchipoo, Jared Konopitski, Amer Ali Shihab, Geff Bartrand, Reuben Splatterbeast, Jay Cee, Wm Brian MacLean, Sergio Zuniga, Devin Francisco, Mike Malaspina and Barry Hutchinson.

The 2 anthologies premiere will be at The Alternative Press Expo in October.

I am also working on a story for a steampunk comic anthology, details forthcoming.

Artist Carrie South and I will be starting on a children’s book together in the next few weeks. It will be an illustrated alliteration book following an alphabetic format and featuring Carrie’s fantastic animal renderings.

And as always, I somehow find the time for weekly installments of Wordplay Thursday and Nicolas Casear and I’s comic strip, Danson With Wolves.

Artist Bree Hranek and I have been working on an illustrated alliteration project for about 4 months and we have but 5 letters of the alphabet left. Almost finished. Here is a sample page (layout and exact fonts yet to be determined).

The A to Z of BM: A Book of Pooetry

The ape came down out of the tree and the rabbit stood sentry over the warren. They watched as the ape took shelter in the cave. The rabbit took note and dug deeper. As the ape came back out of the cave and built towards the sky, the rabbit dug even deeper in the opposite direction. A direction much the same as their opposing evolution. The ape gave itself a new name and invented God to keep its numbers in line, creating religion to impose strictures its writers neither respected nor followed. The rabbit in turn clung tightly to its nature as well as nature itself, and worshipped it in reverence; above, as below.
-excerpt from new work: Above, As Below

Reagan and I went out for pho and record hunting today…and things went weird. I bought two records and 2 CDs. She bought 3 records. And we both ended up with the exact same total.

My Double Stuff. Oreo-E-O. I think I wanna dunk ya.
-Morris Day and Snack Time

If the devil is 6 and god is 7 then the hole is ∞ because the rabbit is 9.

Bright red lights flashing inside the windows like stars, like time-lapse brake lights blinking within intermittent patterns on their way towards destinations unrevealed.Crimson splatters against tightly drawn curtains, a Pollack canvas of Charlie’s love. She paints with baby fists, swaddled in borrowed Bethlehem. Her sun-touched tresses swirled into cotton candy halos as she makes a martyr of her meat. The demon sits upon her chest, a throned tormentress pounding out her sermon in waves of crimson scripture. She becomes an impassioned pulpit of pulmonary pulverization.

Exclamations are driven home on the end of the knife as the raven-haired beast preaches to the choir around her in various states of prey, predator and prayer. She lays with bended knee and abandoned arms thrown back in surrender to sacrifice.

The white lamb and the golden lion locked for life in a faded photograph. A couch, draped flag and coils of rope wildly strewn about the bloody carpeting. The implements of their sin and her body of sacrament stained pink.

Our Holy Mother of Helter Skelter.

RUN FROM AIDS.

That is what I read in the subject line of a spam email this morning. It actually said “RUN FOR AIDS,” but I read it the other way. The way that created an image in my head of people sprinting for their lives from the homunculus, festering, 37-legged, scab red, glowing green-eyed born-from-monkey-rape demon embodiment of AIDS. I thought I was being invited to watch a group of humans fleeing from said beast.
I thought I was being offered free tickets.
I hoped that it was a “+1″ situation so I could take someone special with me.
I was saddened to discover that was actually not the case.

The priest from Nightbreed just called Dar the Beastmaster a freak, and Dar ran off to cry. The Beastmaster is crying. Tight shot of Dar’s face with a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. Masterful. Now I’m crying…I’m emotionally involved. This is the formula that escaped the writers of Conan: expressing Arnie’s sensitive side.

My hand turkey for this year’s Hyaena Gallery Hand Turkey Contest…no timer necessary! You can enter one of your own or check out entries from REAL artists here.