Saucy Mistina Bates, salty Reed Farrel Coleman, and silly me read selections from and signed copies of Indian Country Noir at the Mysterious Bookshop, 58 Warren Street, NYC. Good selection of wine! Thanks to everyone who showed and imbibed, and of course thanks to the folks at Mysterious. Check out
My short story “Roachkiller,” which was published in Murdaland, has been featured on FictionDaily. The site’s goal is to help aggregate and organize the “sea of new literature” online. May the Force be with them. Check it out!
My sister taught me how to spell my name. E-D-G-A-R. But she always called me Eggy. Because she said my head was shaped like an egg. She stabbed me with a fork when I called her Fatty. So that was me and my sister. Mami put me in a program
I remember Desiree was the first girl I ever loved, the first girl I ever wanted to marry. I remember I was going to be 4 and she was 7. I remember she lived next door to us at 123 South Second, and her mother’s name was Cookie and her
We didn’t always live on South Second Street. We moved there from Rutledge Street, on the other side of the neighborhood. But the Hasidic Jews had moved in, so Papi said we couldn’t live there anymore, although he didn’t live with us. My mother’s friend Mojona had bought a building
This begins a highly fictionalized memoir, a sort of A Tree Grows on Mango Street on Rye, if you will. Childhood’s Smell FINALLY, WE DECIDED to go to our father and ask him. He would know. Our mother’s English was not too good, but Papi, he talked like the people
Now and then, for no good reason, life will haul off and knock a man flat. I wrote a zombie short story for no good reason last year, and it just got published by Tales of World War Z. Check it out, and please leave a comment on their site!