Posted in Books, General, News on October 2, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
At long last, the link has arrived. Burning Effigy is selling my gruesome chapbook, 7Brains!
$8 bucks gets you a visceral tale of love, duty, honor, desire, and lots and lots of disgusting brain eating!
(Buy me!)
Here’s the swell, sing-songy backcover copy:
Humanity is on the cusp of a New Evolution. Yep! Pure Emotion has curdled and given way to empty solutions, a gilded edge of bling-bling exteriors masking Rampant Corruption, Souring Evil and Internal Pollution.
Our hero, Malcolm, the reluctant man with a reluctant plan, purpose fluttering in his chest from zero to a million miles an hour in seconds flat, holds the keys to the kingdom of light. All he has to do is eat seven lovely brains and set things right. He’s got a hacksaw, and a hammer, and a set of determined, pearly whites. Can he usher in hope before the imminent descent of everlasting night?
Okay, Loyal Reader, stop reading my blog and get up on some of my fiction. It’s what I do best! Order 7Brains and support the cause! Welcome to the New Evolution!
Posted in General, News on October 2, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
This cancer thing is weird in that I get a lot of credit for being a fighter, and a survivor, and a hero of human infallibility, and all of that.
I’m not.
I mean, I’ve got stage IV cancer (blech!), and true, I am surviving, but really, what am I doing that you or any other poor S.O.B wouldn’t do?
If an alien force attacks your body from the inside out and tries to kill you before you can kill it, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna just lay there and let it do its malignant thing, or are you gonna listen to your doctors and try everything in your power to fight it off?
It’s not much of a leap to assume that we’d all fight.
I guess some people give in, but then, they probably have a host of other problems that contribute to their lack of spirit.
Which is sad, but I’m guessing entirely uncommon. Most of us have more moxy than that.
You get evil cancer, you fight the beast. That’s that. And then you’re deified (a bit strong, but given the context of this post, it works) and loved for it. I appreciate the concern and caring (and wonderful, wonderful love), but I feel kind of guilty. Sitting around aching isn’t exactly gallant. I’m not really doing anything except living with pain.
At the moment, I’m at odds with a pesky rib. The cancer must have eaten away a good hunk of it (I’ll talk to the doctor this week) and it hurts like a mean mutha.
(Ouch!)
Whatever happens at my Dr. appointment, there isn’t much anybody can do about it anyhow. If you crack or break a rib, they simply wrap it and it’s up to you to endure while the bone painfully repairs itself. So long as the cancer has been eradicated (via radiation or chemotherapy), I’m pretty much in the same boat. If the vile beast is still there, actively eating…then…well…we’ll see…but so long as these sharp, stabbing aches are the product of a cancerousaftermath (not a fresh assault) then my directives are most likely the same as someone with a cracked or broken bone.
Either way it sucks.
But that’s life, Loyal Reader.
We have to overcome the knocks and take pleasure in the little things, right?
Last night we took a few friends to dinner at a nice steak place (Wood Ranch) and you know what I had for dinner? Ribs! That’s right. I had an exquisite rack of all-American baby backs. The carmalized barbecue sauce. The fall-off-the-bone tenderness of the meat. The taste. Awesome.
And you know what?
This was the first time I have ever ordered ribs at a restaurant in my entire life!
I hate eating meat off the bone. It’s too messy. It reminds me of the source when I’d rather pretend I’m eating something…artificial. I do better with things like beans and rice and maybe even cheese (less guilt). But then, who am I kidding? I’m not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination.
But, these incredible ribs were super delicious and they gave me a well-needed reprieve from the throbbing bastardo plaguing my right ribcage. I’m glad I tried something different. I’ll definitely order them again, aching or not.
(Made from real babies!)
I guess the moral here is to live, Loyal Reader. Order ribs (regardless of the mess). Enjoy everything (regardless of the mess). If your body is giving you crap, find ways to overcome and make the best of it (regardless of the mess). Feeling sorry for yourself will never do (it’s very unbecoming).
Now, sing-a-long why don’t you? That revenge minded miscreant, Sweeney gets making the best of it (sort of…Ms. Lovett understands though)…
Posted in General, News, Rants on October 2, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
We are on the move, Loyal Reader. Literally. And I’ve missed precious blogs because of it. But it’s A-okay. I’m gonna make it up to you in 3…2…1! Go! Go! Go!
Presenting the first of three catch-up posts.
They’ll be smaller and kinda fluffy, but they’ll get me back on track so tomorrow I can fall back into the daily groove.
So then… Moving is tough, huh?
It’s different for me than you though. You have to lift this gargantuan piece of furniture or that oblong, bursting box. You strain. You grunt and groan and curse the little bruises that’ll surely grow into large bruises overnight.
What do I do?
I sit and watch you struggle.
Which sucks for everyone! You wish I could get off my bony butt (it’s true – not much rump fat there – my butt isn’t much more than a cradle of unforgiving bone) and do something. I wish I could lend a hand.
Box corners call me.
Furniture lips and handy, jutting overhangs taunt me.
Oh, Loyal Reader, how I hate being unwell.
Doctor’s orders, or rather, my body’s limitations – keep me down. I have no choice in the matter. I can’t do what I physically want to do and it is as frustrating as all get out!
(Truth!)
My tough friends pitched in. They’re all hovering around the six-foot+ mark and they’ve got the muscles to make things happen. An extra special blog THANKS for their concerted efforts. They really saved the day. The amount of work they put in was phenomenal.
The worst part of the move is standing by and watching my wife and kid lug their hearts out. I WANT TO HELP, dammit! But my wife insists and my body can’t lift anything anyhow and…
Posted in General, Movies, News on September 29, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
Screenwriting is…different. I love writing novels and novellas. Man, I can flow. I can spin that magic, but a screenplay gets me going in a different way. There’s a different momentum and rhythm to the writing.
Right now I’m working on a screenplay that interlocks three, interconnected, but separate stories. They move out of order and I have to jumble timelines. Did Protagonist A do X before Protagonist B did Y?
Get it?
It’s kind of confusing.
But I got this. No worries.
But my brain?
Mush.
Pure mush.
I’ll pull myself from the muck soon enough. The end is in sight and it’s looking to be a doozey. The coolest part is my director / partner / filmmaker guru is shooting this thing in a matter of weeks. That means I gotta go and get back to work. After some food, my brain will be ready to crack the third act.
Posted in General, Music, News, Raves on September 28, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
At the age of fifteen I was CRAZY for music. I suppose must of us generally are. Music was (and still is, especially for teens) the most viable way to express one’s self. I wore band shirts and when I got a car, at the keen age of seventeen, I was sure to sticker it up with the groups I loved.
Music, at the time, was changing. I was a little snot nosed punk right smack dab in the middle of the Grunge explosion. Looking back, it wasn’t a bad time to be a kid. We didn’t have the rock and roll rebellion of the early 50’s where for the first time, music became specifically generational. Kids could blare loud, electric guitars and do-wop grooves much to the chagrin of their standards loving parents. We didn’t have the genius of the Beatles.
The nineties seem a lot like the seventies (I suppose, but this is just hypothesizing from someone who was too young to remember anything until the eighties kicked in). On one side of the fence you have heavy rock, on the other disco. In the nineties, we had heavy rock and dance music. Rap was also solidifying itself as a viable thing (which had been going on for years and years, but the mainstream, what with rappers guesting on dance tunes, was finally, fully embracing it).
(“We’re gonna wipe you right out, right out, right out…” Oh yeah!)
The only thing that mattered to me was intelligent, alternative rock – be it guitar driven or electronic based. You see (just like now), I was somewhat of a cultural snob. Music had to mean something. I could appreciate love songs or weird, pointless abstractions, the songs didn’t have to be meaningful in that they focused on a particular topic, they just had to strike me with a modicum of depth. They had to do something more than the hair metal, dance music, and radio-friendly rap dominating MTV and top 40.
I was an intense kid. My bedroom walls were covered with subversive art pieces and pictures cut from SPIN magazine.
My high school put on a talent show every year. My ninth grade year found me and two brave companions lip syncing along with the Beastie Boys’ Shake Your Rump (ah, Paul’s Boutique – great album) while wearing giant baby diapers and bibs. It was a cute idea and we had enough fun to outweigh the embarrassment of wearing diapers in front of a packed gymnasium.
The next year, I matured (some). I put together a lip synced rendition of Ministry’s Thieves (with those awesome FULL METAL JACKET samples – get up, get on your feet!). My group of eight performers borrowed real instruments from friends and one friend even brought his other friend who brought along a real drum set and played it along in time with the music. It was awesome. We didn’t win, but my music career had officially begun.
(When Ministry went heavy, everything changed. They make rock RAWK!)
Turns out this drummer, Dan, a kid a few years older than me who went to school a city over, liked my lip work. Though I was mouthing words, I played the part to perfection, Loyal Reader. I was a solid, lip syncing frontman. He asked me if I wanted to sing for a band he was putting together.
Being fifteen, and restless, and a theatrical music fanatic, I immediately accepted and threw myself into it head first.
I was great at promotion and setting up gigs and making flyers and supplying vision, but when it came to singing? Meh. I couldn’t really carry a tune. Which wasn’t much of problem – we were a loud, hardcore outfit. Screaming sufficed. I wanted so much more. I wrote lyrics with depth – dark little things that read like beat poetry, but when sung came out like guttural, screeching noise.
Jobee (hi Jobee!), our guitarist had mad skills. At sixteen, he could tear it up, write great songs, and play almost anything by ear. The kid was way talented. He handled lyrics too. And I was proud to sing, um, scream them.
Live, we did our thing. Kids liked us. We played house parties and half empty warehouses and real gigs at little venues (one of the biggest being a show opening for Cannibal Corpse – we were almost Death Metal, but probably a little more thrash what with my scream-o yelping). It was great. We booked studio time (no laptop studios, kiddies – this was in the early nineties and recording on anything other than a four-track was expensive – hell, for struggling high school kids, a four-track was damn expensive). I tried to actually sing, but it sounded horrible, so we went the other way and got me yelling my head off. I’m quite proud of our first demo.
(We opened for these guys! It was an experience.)
We called ourselves Grimoire and we had big dreams. We stuck it out for two or three years, had a few triumphant moments (some incredible shows), but things grew stagnant and the band wanted to move in different directions. They held some practices without me (I was kind of flakey anyhow – I blame girls). They eventually found a new singer, just as I was packing my bags and moving away to Reno for a change of scenery and a different life (drama).
I miss those guys. We had a lot of great times growing up together.
I was nineteen when I got to Reno. I got a job, plunked over the cash for a guitar and amp, and then began to apply everything I learned from Jobee and the rest of my old band buddies by practicing, practicing, and practicing. I recorded lots and lots of crappy songs on a crappy four-track. I learned how to love the guitar. Sometimes it loves me, sometimes not so much. I keep at it.
Though I tried, I could never get a proper band going in Reno. I jammed a little. I posted flyers and hung out at a hip, independent record store, but nothing ever came out of it.
A few years later, I moved back to Southern California. Within a few months I got another band together – this one more in the vein of something like the Smashing Pumpkins with a bit of Nirvana and the Pixies and Fugazi thrown in for good measure. I developed a real kinship with those guys and we still hang out a couple of times a year, rocking our old jams (and new ones) at a house party (a Halloween jam is coming up very soon, yay!). Our band was called BURN and we had something special going, but I was twenty-one and it was time to get life going. Community College, then the eventual transfer to a university, simply took precedence. I had to leave for CSUN.
Which sucks, but that’s life, huh?
One minute you’ve got a scuffed Doc Marten boot poised atop a vibrating monitor, leaning over a frenzied crowd, screaming love songs (aren’t they all?) with passionate fury, the next you’re driving your kid to school and paying down an impossible mortgage.
But you know what? I think making it work with a family, for me that’s two others and we’re like Voltron, is what it’s all about. We form up. We are bound by love. You can’t break us.
I’ve always been extremely envious of the rock stars who make it. The little rocker inside throws up double devil horns and screams along, but wants more than anything to be up there on stage getting down. What a way to make a living – That’s the way you do it, you get your money for nothing and your chicks for free (thank you, Mr. Knopfler).
But then…
Nothing’s quite as sad as a successful rock star who don’t know how to grow up. Arrested development can be an ugly, ugly thing. But imagine it: you’re seventeen, you hit it big, for the next ten to twenty years nobody ever tells you, “No.” How can you ever lead a normal life? I guess the old adage – be careful what you wish for – is sound.
But then…
Some folks handle it better than others. Look at Bono or someone as cool as Leonard Cohen. No one is as cool as Leonard Cohen. If I could go back and do it right, make deals properly, keep a band together (all of the in-fighting and petty crap you read about within the band structure, all those break-ups, all of that stuff is generally 100% accurate – dysfunctional families fall into disfunction), write something of worth, make enough money to live on for the rest of my life, I would hope to end up as cool as Leonard Cohen. That dude gives rock stars a good name.
Okay, I could go on and on, but I gotta give it a rest. Rock on, Loyal Reader!
Posted in General, Movies, News on September 27, 2011 by Michael Louis Calvillo
Spent the day in chemo undergoing nefarious transfusions. The ninja-style drug is slinking through my veins, cutting cancer cells to bits with lethal katanas and swift throwing stars.
It’s weird. After taking a three-week break, the chemo side-effects were positively screaming, but now that I’ve got a fresh infusion, I feel better. My body seems to need the chemo to stave off the agonizing symptoms of withdrawal.
(Uh-oh, trouble!)
My wife, Michelle, hasn’t missed a chemo appointment yet. We usually spend the six hours playing Scrabble, or talking, or simply enjoying one another’s silence. It’s really nice. I missed her tremendously. Oh well. Unfortunately, work kept her away today. My brother stepped up and helped out. He took me in, got me settled, then went off to do errands before coming back to get me and take me back home (Thanks, Ronnie!).
I kept busy with the good, ol’ iPad2. I read some interesting articles, perused Facebook stuff, searched apps, searched for the best iPad games, played some games, and watched the first few minutes of a few movies on Netflix (WEIRD SCIENCE and the opening of a Russell Brand comedy special). When I got sleepy, I put the iPad to bed and then took a nice nap. All-in-all it wasn’t too bad a day.
(“From my heart and from my hands, why don’t people understand, my creation?”)
Since the chemo actually made me feel better, I actually worked up an actual appetite for destruction.
Michelle and I concluded upon Shakey’s for some Mojos and Pizza.
I am still way full. The food was too delicious.
And that’s it, Loyal Reader – a day filled with medical imprisonment, druggy acclimation, and saucy deliciousness!
Killercon 3 was a huge success (congrats to Wrath James White and crew). It was well-attended and fun. I made out with eight new books (ready? let’s go: CRIPPLE WOLF by Jeff Burk, URBAN GOTHIC by Brain Keene, THE FAGGIEST VAMPIRE by Carlton Mellick III, DEMON by Eric Williams, DOUBLEJACK by Gene O’Neil, a chap book by Sam W. Anderson (the name escapes me at the moment…), SARAH’S STORY by John Little, VANISHING HOPE by Tobin Elliot, THIS LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE by Nate Southard and a very cool Jason Dark reader by Guido Henkel).
The readings were lively, the forensic blood splatter panel rocked, and the dealer room was filled out by none other than Jack Ketchum. Manning a table of his wonderful work, the man was accessible and down-to-earth. I admire the guy.
(Read this book.)
Same for Gene O’Neil. Gene is in his seventies, but he could pass for forty-five. His indomitable spirit makes me feel…right. We seem to understand each other and I learn so much every time we talk.
The list goes on and on and if I don’t mention all of them I’ll feel bad. I can’t rank each experience and I can’t write about all of them either. Many folks made my weekend special and you know who you are. I just wanted to give you a virtual hug and say thanks for the killer time. I mentioned some of them yesterday sans links. Let me fix that. Search out Weston Ochse and John Palisano and Lisa Morton. They jam.
(Me and my pal, Lisa Morton. Our combined writing abilites have the potential to destroy the planet.)
Lastly, but certainly not least, I gotta give a shout out to Monica and Burning Effigy. They hosted an incredible party (with incredible poster art) and did an exquisite job on 7BRAINS.
So then, Saturday began a little late. Michelle and I slept in until about nine. I wrote my blog (after calling the crappy, intermittent Internet service) then the two of us went to a buffet for breakfast with my writer buddy, Benjamin Kane Ethridge, and a few friends who came out to attend the convention with us.
(Who says reading isn’t fun?)
I got to the convention for Gene O’Neil’s reading (in which the man doesn’t read a thing – he donates his time to talking other writer’s works – he helps the new guy/gal get a little coverage – that’s supercool). After Gene tore it up (charisma for days), Mr. Ethridge read a story about a rising tide of mean, old, stinky, alcoholic sludge and the furious regrets that follow us from this world to the next. Loved it. I almost won a shirt (Ben raffled them off), but alas, like all forms of gambling (examples coming soon…), I didn’t win. Damn. That’s okay, I plan on buying one once they go on sale (and you should too).
After that, we checked out the forensic blood splatter panel then sat in on the mass signing. I signed lots of 7BRAINS and even a few of my older works. It was nice to meet a few fans and collectors who I’ve seen on line via Facebook posts, but have yet to meet in person. I had a blast.
(Brad Hodson gets his kill on at the forensic blood spatter exhibition.)
(Weston Ochse is the King of Cool.)
Michelle and I took about an hour off and relaxed in the room. Then we reconvened with friends and went to see Penn & Teller’s show at the Rio.
What do you know, Loyal Reader? In my Killercon report you also get a quick show review. The always entertaining duo did their thing very well. They’ve been playing the Rio for ten years(!). Their act is a well-oiled machine.
The pacing is just right. The show doesn’t feel short or long. Some of the magic set-pieces (The Magic Bullets) have been done before on some of the team’s television and cable specials, but there were lots of subtle, understated stuff – particularly Teller’s wordless finesse (the man is a slight-of-hand master) – that were new to me. Watching Teller wow the crowd without a word while Penn played a nice, noirish, jazz jam on an upright bass worked really well. Same for the bits where Penn broke down the elements of magic while Teller illustrated the trick step by revealing step.
(Tricksters.)
Penn & Teller have always been magic comedy’s subversive, bad boys. They insist that you understand that magic has nothing to do with magic. Magic doesn’t exist. But tricks do. Same goes for psychics and magicians who pretend what they do is real. Penn rants (on TV and in the show) about clairvoyant and psychics, pissed off that they play on people’s weaknesses and pretend to contact dead loved ones.
I’m with the big guy. I agree 100%.
The entertainers hung out after the show and took pictures with the crowd. A few of my buddies got pictures (including fellow writer Brad Hodson) with Penn, but I held off. I figured I would look like a small child next to his 6′ 7″ frame.
All-in-all the show rocked. Recommended.
We followed the show with some sushi and a place called Sushi Samba at The Palazzo. It was freaking expensive, but really, really nice. We had a great meal.
(Me and my girl.)
It was 2:30AM by the time we got back to our room. No time for a blog. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…
Michelle and I got out of town pretty quickly. We packed then checked out then went to Caesar’s Palace for their Sunday buffet. $26.95 a person later we tried to enjoy every bit of it as much as we could. It was nice.
I played a few slots (some of the new machines are way high-tech – this one particular STAR WARS video slot kicked butt), but lost money so quickly I had no choice but to throw my hands in the air with frustration and sulk away.
(Loser. The force is not strong with me.)
At long last I’m back home in my comfortable recliner bashing away on the keys. I’m so excited to post this and then watch something on the DVR and relax.
Oh, and Loyal Reader, don’t forget… Killercon 4 is only twelve months away. You best start training now.
I am one blog post behind. This is the first of two blogs that’ll run tonight then I’m caught up.
Presenting…video of me spazzing out during a Reading. I read and rap and discuss my writing. I’m still too skinny (working on it). And, no, I wasn’t joking, I am kind of spazzy. But spazzy in a good way. I can deal with it, I just can’t watch it. The following video has been shot by my wife. She assures me I am presentable.
A WARNING: Though I’m not much of a cusser in real life – having a kiddie and teaching kids all day keeps my language lean , mean and clean – I think it’s super-fun to do it in my writing. When I put these crazy, horror stories together, I envision R-rated horror movies. The violence, profanity, sexuality, and taboo themes reach R-rated levels of mayhem. They are not for children. 17 and older please. The youngins reading this can come back in a few years and check it out then ;-)!
Uh-oh. I technically missed a day of blogging which means I ruined my perfect average! I accomplished about eighty posts in eighty days and was well on my way to a perfect 365. Damn. Oh well. Still, I’m not giving up. I’m gonna knock out two posts today and then pick myself up and carry on. After another 200+ of these things (IN A ROW!!!), nobody’ll notice any sort of difference…
So what happened?
Well, as you all know, we are at Killercon 3. I hopped on the computer last night around 10PM. I was dragging. It had been a long day and I was ready to crash (so much for partying all night – ah, to be young again ;-(. Anyway, I logged in and the Internets refused to cooperate! I paid 12 bucks for Internet access (because for some reason or another, these damn hotels are too cheap to offer Wi-Fi as FREE service), but nothing worked!
Long story short, Michelle got the Internet service on the phone this morning and we’re back in business.
Killercon then. We got in to Vegas on Thursday around 9PMish. There was a smallish opening party going on in the hospitality suite, but Michelle and I and our friend Ben Ethridge, opted out and went to eat some pricey Italian instead. Then we went back to the room (we got a very roomy suite, hey!) and hung out until about 2:30AM before calling it a night.
Friday was a big one. Monica K. from Burning Effigy presented me with the first ever copy of 7BRAINS (Yay!) – an excellent way to start the morning. I said hello to tons of folks then followed opening ceremonies with an 11:30AM reading. Surprisingly, the reading was well-attended (the surprise stemming from all there is to do in Vegas – that people choose to check me out was very, very cool). Luckily, I killed. Everyone was into it. I fired off a few jokes and told a little about my climb then I read some raps from my (hopefully) forthcoming novel HYPNOTIC.
My flow was strong – nice cadence, nice rhythm – and the rhymes were funny. The crowd of mostly non-hiphop heads were pleased.
After getting down with it, I picked up 7BRAINS and did the traditional reading thing. I read the first chapter (about 10 pages). Momentum carried us along. There was a lull here and there, nothing that anybody will remember in retrospect (especially with my raps still kicking about in the back of their brains). All in and all, it was a very successful performance.
Before getting off the stage, I raffled off five books (Michelle passed out tickets to everybody in attendance).
I spent some time in the Dealer’s room and caught several other great readings. We saw Lisa Morton read a killer, thoughtful piece called THE DEVIL and then John Palisano read from his upcoming, first novel, NERVES (coming from Bad Moon very soon…).
I then took a nap which ruined me for the rest of the evening (I couldn’t wake-up!). Bleary-eyed and refusing to give in to fatigue, we watched two more readings – one by Jeremy Wagner reading from his thriller (the name escapes me) and then one by the one, the only, the fantabulous outlaw wordsmith, Weston Ochse. His performance rocked the house (literally) as he broke up his reading of PLAYLIST AT THE END (forgive me if I mangled the title) with snippets of music.
Putting on a successful reading, Loyal Reader, isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Most folks who try run the risk of boring the audience. Let’s be honest – reading aloud isn’t the most exciting thing. Sometimes, it’s like watching paint dry. I really appreciate Weston’s approach. I already know the guy (and love him to death), but readings like that are the type to convert the masses. Audiences become fans. It helps that he can write (very, very, very well) because when those fans reach out and take a chance on his stuff they’ll surely become devoted.
Next, we hit the Burning Effigy party where I happened to be one of the guests of honor. We schmoozed for a bit, took some pictures, had a few drinks, then went off in search of food.
I never got dinner (long story) and ended up conking out by 11PM.
In Vegas?!
11PM?
I know, I know, but the party animal in me just isn’t what it used to be. Maybe I’ll have better luck tonight?
Okay then, Loyal Reader, remember… This is technically yesterday’s blog. I’ll put something new up tonight. Sorry for the lack of pictures / videos / handy links, but I’m on the road and none of this tech crap wants to work for me! If you want more info on the wonderful authors mentioned above, copy their names into google and search away. They’re worth the effort.
P.S. – I met, and had some wonderful conversation with Jack Ketchum! I was initially star-struck (he is a horror writing icon), but he’s such a nice dude, I now consider him a friend. Trippy, huh?
We’re off to Vegas for Killercon 3. The first year the convention ran, it was pretty cool. Last year’s was poorly attended and had some venue problems (they switched hotels on the day of the con! Messy!), but we still had tons of fun. I hope this year pops off and tons of folks come out. Looking forward to meeting other authors and brainwashing some new fans.
I’ve got a reading at 11:30AM tomorrow (it would be nice if loads of people showed up for it – we’ll see). And then there’s a party tomorrow night in honor of 7BRAINS (among a few other works by other authors). And then on saturday, Michelle and I (and our pals Stacey and Andrew) are sneaking away to catch Penn & Teller.
We don’t gamble much, but maybe we’ll get lucky and hit a jackpot (or two). Fingers crossed…
I’m super excited, but the road before us is a long one (just over three hours generally).
Which is why today’s blog is sooo pathetic. Sorry, Loyal Reader. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll find some downtime and fill you in on all the fun!
Rock and roll!
(“Bright light city gonna set my soul, set my soul on fire…”)
Michael Louis Calvillo Must Be Destroyed 