Suburbia holds more than you care for…
‘And it felt like a kiss…’
‘Do it again, Johnny,’ Annette said wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, but he had no intention of pressing his lips to hers again. ‘I can take it.’ She ripped the skirt the rest of the way off and lay on the bed.
God, he hated Norwich.
[Originally appeared in Blink|Ink 8 Noir Issue, Sep 2011]
Double barrel song inspiration:
Get bloody all over again.
The second issue of The Blood Red Experiment is out and it’s a doozy. Includes the second chapter of my giallo novella The Madonna of the Wasps. Great stories by some other geezers, too! You know their names and quality is always the game.
The Blood Red Experiment Issue 2 is out now for purchase on Kindle. If you like Giallo Horror, then this magazine will be for you. We have the talents of Richard Godwin, Kate Laity, Kevin Berg, Tom Leins, Jim Shaffer, Mark Cooper and Jack Bates in each issue. Issue One is available to read if you haven’t read it already. The episodes run sequentially so read issue 1 first, you won’t be disappointed!
I blame Marko and the Thanksgiving in Hell show for putting this in my head since Thursday, so I’m working to exorcise it. A song of fake nostalgia, written by Brits pretending to be Californians (seriously, who gets excited about driving to San Jose?) for a band that didn’t exist. The tune that kicked off that K-Tel LP you had which also had ‘Life is a Rock’ that I listened to over an over to figure out all the lyrics though nobody cared about it. Faux nostalgia but we’d stay up all night listening to that pop music on the record player and talking about things like how miserable we were and if it were worth going on and whether things would ever get better, if we’d be stuck in that piddly town forever and marry the stupid guys we knew and have kids and die never having gone anywhere ever or living fabulous lives that we knew we ought to have — but we have survived and we remember those old dumb songs with a fondness and we’re still here so somehow fake nostalgia has become real memories, and I hear that in this silly song even though it’s no better than it was, but I am — and I got out. So I salute you, my friend.
The man for whom the word dulcet was invented. It had a long wait, but he was there. And were we not fortunate indeed that his rumble lives on?