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DIEGESES by D. Harlan Wilson /// A Review or Pigmeat
D. Harlan Wilson’s DIEGESES destroyed my Saturday evening in the best possible way. I wrote a review about it, but how can one write a review of a book that baffles all of one’s mental models? I suffered. I clawed my teeth out to bring you some words to somehow measure up to Wilson’s brilliance, but I have been known to fall flat and my face is now officially a smear campaign for mothmen. With this in mind, from my small part of the world, I thank you for taking the time to read my review.
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Obscurities of the Doom Horizon (A Novelette)
One year in the making, I present to you “Obscurities of the Doom Horizon,” a romantic, post-apocalyptic sci-fi slasher novelette for your reading pleasure. It is built as a novel idea of forty eight interconnected stories. There are creatures dripping goo, brainwashing, crime, paranoia, hallucinations, true love, and much more. If this was a film, I would suspect a hybrid of Lynch and Raimi would have to get on board, would certainly be welcomed. Or, whoever just directed Life of Pi. Perhaps this, this obscurity of the doom horizon, is my Life of Pi. Thank you for reading.
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Pigs Gather in Snow
For a limited time, this short piece is available at the marvelously macabre Thirteen Myna Birds. The pigs will be etherized.
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Die You Doughnut Bastards by Cameron Pierce (Eraserhead Press, 2012) ///Review
I am thrilled to review Cameron Pierce’s Die You Doughnut Bastards from Eraserhead Press. Bizarro fiction is a form that I’ve been steadily digesting these last few months and trying to learn more and more about. This collection has quickly made it to the top of my list and you’ll be doing yourself a favor by spending time with master Pierce and his collection of truly notable bizarro fictions. Thank you for reading.
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Headcheese
Oh, man. Such a good feeling to make one of my all-time favorite lit mags, THE BACON REVIEW—their one-year Anniversary issue to boot.
Here’s their words about my piece, HEADCHEESE: “Into the fire. Jamie Grefe. Headcheesing. Don’t ignore the title. Don’t ignore the sensation you get when you read it again where it is, not so deep into the story. Again, and it might be the fall, there is a certain rabidity and Jokeresque laughter that drifts through both of these pieces. Tying up the middle of our docket like awful-tight corset strings.
Corset lace? Seems like something that would be a lace, not a string. Like a shoe.
Either way, fury of the Axeman; relish in being stalked, in knowing the grip of the hand around your ankle. We’ve listed it as Wildcard to help nail in the point.”
Big thanks to Eric W. and Jason for giving this piece the best home. -
The Future of Festering Wounds
Zack Wentz, thank you for teaching me much about good books and the craft of writing, about perseverance and possibilities. I came across NDF last spring and devoured every issue with enthusiasm. They are worth savoring. Issue Five has pieces from myself, Barry N. Malzberg, and Cameron Pierce among others whose work I am not yet familiar with, but soon will be. My contribution is quite bizarre and would not exist were it not for time spent in the current city where I find myself: Beijing. In that respect, it makes all of the frustration of living in this city of confusion worth the daily effort. Thank you for reading.
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Blorthox in the Clutches of Love
Thank you, Joe Jablonski, editor of Three Minute Plastic, for jumping on this weird story. This is a “sword & sorcery” world condensed, populated with surreal oddness: “Squalchor the Squandering Magus,” “pig-witches,” “Owldoom Temple,” etc. Not to mention that our hero is not much of a hero given his antics at the story’s end. Or, are we experiencing the story through the villain’s eyes? If you like this, I recommend my short story for Pulp Metal Magazine: Night of the Cannibal Priestess. Thank you, Joe, and thank you all for reading.
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Sour Pinch of Summer
I wrote this piece while deep in a Stephen Graham Jones workshop, but kept this one private—wrote it on the side. Years ago, fresh out of high school, I delivered furniture, spent time (with permission) dropping things off at important people’s houses when they weren’t home and always wondered what if something was in there waiting for me … what if that innocent boss of mine was hiding something. The result of that paranoid delusion is this story. Thank you, Mustache Factor. I grow my mustache for you.