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Category Archives: Fiction

Prose Fiction: Red Envelope

From the journal of Mike Hallissey: Friday, November 25th, 1998 “You know Sir, with you moving in so early, we didn’t have time to repaint it,” said the middle-aged Chinese man with the Mexican accent. Robert Chang opened the door to No. 38, the last available rental at Edgemont Manor. The studio apartment consisted of […]

UCLA Live Presents Neil Gaiman

The prolific creator of comics, novels, film, journalism and poetry spoke to a full house at UCLA Live’s Royce Hall about his work on “Sandman,” “Coraline,” and more. Click here to read the article. Click here to read my other Comics-related articles.

Clive Barker at the LA Times’ Festival of Books

Sporting a freshly shaved head and torn jeans, Clive Barker sat down with Gina McIntyre at the Los Angeles Times’ Festival of Books on April 25th 2009, to discuss his “Abarat” series and other creations. The “Abarat” series depicts an archipelago of islands where every island corresponds to an hour of the day. Barker remarked […]

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have a tendency to collect crap – or stuff, as George Carlin put it. My house is the big pile of stuff with a cover on it that Carlin was talking about in his routine. Stuff collected from the past ten years that I intended to do something with at some point. A lot […]

Norma & Margie

When it comes to being an extra-dimensional courier, Norma is the oldest of the old-timers. Margie is employee of the month, with skills and techniques that are state of the art. Together they set out on their greatest mission! Norma & Margie trailer in Flash or Quicktime. Trailer music by Kriss Bliss. LoFi Flash [8.1 […]

Automatic Writing One

And still its wings beat in unison to the pentameter of the grey shale stone that surrounds the cottage I am trying to hide in at the moment. I know it, I know it, I know that I can’t stay forever, sooner or later I have to get something to eat, something to fuck. But […]

Semi-Automatic Writing VIII

I knew the invitation was a trap, despite it resembling a normal postcard, the kind you would find in the front of a record store. The postcard was handed to me in front of the Burgundy Room at 1:45am by a deluxe quirk-quisinarted teenager that was a step beyond melrose gutter punk, more like faux […]