In your ears

Oh look, he’s back. It’s been a few months, for those of you who didn’t realize I was gone. You’re probably thinking I ran out of things to say, but that’s not it. I have a few posts here that I’ve written but haven’t published. So my absence wasn’t due to a lack of ideas. No, what’s …

The Tragic Flogging of a Dead Rape Horse, A.K.A. Locking the Door on Bukowski’s Ghost and Throwing Away the Key

I have another long post here that I have been waiting to publish. It’s called, The Senseless, Tragic Rape of Charles Bukowski’s Ghost: John Martin Speaks. It was meant to be the final part of the series (which was never meant to be a series in the first place) but I can’t bring myself to post …

The Senseless, Tragic Rape of Charles Bukowski’s Ghost (the Prequel)

The article, The senseless, tragic rape of Charles Bukowski’s ghost by John Martin’s Black Sparrow Press tells the story (read that first if you haven’t already), but for the curious there is an interesting bit of back-story. In the 1990s I ran an artists/writers/photography site called, and it had a Bukowski section. The primary tool …

The Senseless, Tragic Rape of Charles Bukowski’s Ghost by John Martin’s Black Sparrow Press

If you’ve ever read anything by Charles Bukowski, you no doubt remember the feeling you had the first time you came across his work. For better or worse, Bukowski is one of those authors who you don’t easily forget or ignore. Very few people are ambivalent about him.

Writing the world’s greatest novel

I am writing a book. I’ve written a few books, but this one is different. It’s really long. It started as a short story about being on the road in a punk band, Sonny Vincent and The Extreme, back in 1980 and 81. One day I looked at it and thought, “I wonder what it …

Hooray! It’s the mailman!

I’ve been considering running a month-long promotion to give away electronic versions of my books. I figure the typical person who would dig what I’m doing here might also be a book collector, so giving away the Kindle or iPad versions could spur some sales of the real things. You know, the ink on paper ones. Offering …

My baby, she wrote me a letter

Carol is working on a new book, and in an effort to make it as labor-intensive as possible, she is actually typing out the text on each finished page (hundreds of them) by hand on an old Underwood typewriter. This makes a clack clack clacking sound throughout the house, that was probably a very familiar …

Everyone’s a critic

To celebrate Thanksgiving my dog Buddy took one of the hardcover copies of Riding Out the Dumb Silence out into the yard and ate it. Well, he tried to eat it all, but he choked on some of the words, came back into the house and told me that I really needed to work on …

Shakespeare never did this

Stopped by the Los Angeles Antiquarian Book Fair at the Century Plaza hotel on Friday. Well, “stopped by” isn’t exactly accurate, as you can’t just “stop by” either the hotel or the book fair, since both are kind of a pain in the ass to visit, but you get the point.

Scuttlebutt and innuendo

Now that the Bukowski material is all gone from smog there’s probably no one here to read this. Ah, well. Maybe you’ll all show up on the groovy new Bukowski forum, over at and we’ll get to know each other better.

Shake a leg

today I packed up the old prosthetic leg that has been with me for 10 years or so (yes, those are jungle cats under the fiberglass). it’s going to live in Tulsa, Oklahoma, which is as good a place as any for something so weird.

San Pedro Anarchy Press, Inc.

welp, the letterpress poem project is finally finished. it kind of dragged out over a long time, but things tend to do that when you are a lazy procrastinator. if you’re a patron of the weird arts, you can buy one here.


On the typewriter in front of Thompson was a page bearing letterhead reading “Fourth Amendment Foundation”. Upon this page, centered near the top was typed “Feb 22 ’05”, and the page contained only one word, “counselor”.

Come back, bastard!

well, this is the funniest damn thing I’ve seen today (the news-department-serious caption is what’s really funny).

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.

Hunter S. Thompson is dead, and while that news shouldn’t really surprise anyone, it is disturbing. Not because I’ll miss what he’s written lately (admittedly I did not keep up with the good doctor’s more recent work), but because we need people like Thompson to maintain balance in the universe.