NEW FICTION: Bourbon & Blondes has arrived!

From the bus stations of Rt. 66 to the smoky, neon-tinged jazz dives of the big cities, these wanton tales of longing introduce us to vixens on the fringe and those shifty men that drove them there.

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Watch: The 'Bourbon & Blondes' Book Trailer

Get your shot glass ready because you're about to enter a retro world of showgirls, drifters, barmaids and thieves.

The eternal question for scribes?

In this new social media landscape, the question becomes: Is blogging dead? It just may be...

Watch: The 'Front Page Palooka' Book Trailer

Read the pulp novella that one reviewer called 'A potboiler in the style of old school writers like Mickey Spillane, Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler...'

Monday, September 29, 2008


Since 1982, the American Library Association has sponsored Banned Books Week to pay tribute to free speech and open libraries. The tradition began as a nod to how far society has come since 1557, when Pope Paul IV first established The Index of Prohibited Books to protect Catholics from controversial ideas. Four-hundred and nine years later, Pope Paul VI would abolish it, although attempts at censorship still remain. TIME presents some of the most challenged books of all time.

To read the list, click HERE.

Monday, September 15, 2008


Atlantic City could be a haunting place. Amid billion dollar casinos, glitz and bright lights, lies a level of poverty, decay and urban blight rarely seen in modern US cities. Enjoy the video and lyrics to Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City," a haunting ode to the ultimate downtrodden seashore town and it's once glorious past as "America's Playground."

Well, they blew up the chicken man in philly last night
Now, they blew up his house, too
Down on the boardwalk theyre gettin ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do

Now, theres trouble bustin in from outta state
And the d.a. cant get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gamblin commissions hangin on by the skin of his teeth

Well now, evrything dies, baby, thats a fact
But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in atlantic city

Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the central trust
And I bought us two tickets on that coast city bus

Now, baby, evrything dies, honey, thats a fact...

Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever Ill stay
Were goin out where the sands turnin to gold
Put on your stockins baby, `cause the nights getting cold
And maybe evrything dies, baby, thats a fact
But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back

Now, I been lookin for a job, but its hard to find
Down here its just winners and losers and dont
Get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well, Im tired of comin out on the losin end
So, honey, last night I met this guy and Im gonna
Do a little favor for him

Well, I guess everything dies, baby, thats a fact...

Sunday, September 14, 2008


I usually try to find companion photos with all of my original poems. That said, do you know how damn hard it is to find a pic of a cool, elegant dude playing baccarat? The closest representation of who I'm writing about is none other than Don Draper. If you don't know who Don Draper is... click HERE.

His crisp white shirt pressed
Black loafers,
spit-shined to perfection;
The Hair? dapper as ever.
Thanks to the pomade.
And that gorgeous suit,
direct from Saville Row,
the one he bought
for last year's party
(but never wore) waits
on the old valet;
Hasn't been worn since.
The silk tie itself
a piece of art,
would make Cary Grant proud;
especially because it
meets perfectly at his

His cologne,
spicy and musky,
dolloped behind each ear;

After adjusting his good luck
cuff links through
each jacket sleeve,
he fingers her paisley
handkerchief into his pocket;
His good luck charm;
A token he'd never gamble without;

Fussing with it,
he can still smell her perfume,
a mix of sandalwood and rose;
he finds it intoxicating.

His Cartier tank reads 7:45 p.m.;
right on schedule.
He's ready to tango
with Lady Luck;

where the action is,
he wades through
the crowded casino floor
and sits at the high-limit
baccarat table.

Fellow gamblers
greet him by name;
Immediately, a cocktail girl
jets over and smiles
a tad more than she should;
he orders a Jameson, neat;
He wins when he sips it
every 7 minutes;

He lights a Dunhill
and greets the dealer
who simply nods
after he places a
modest bet;

Everyone knows now
that the gentleman came
to play

Tuesday, September 9, 2008


Enjoy this video and lyrics for "Hold On," one of my favorite Tom Waits songs. Chuck full of old school imagery, the tune has a solemn, sad energy about it. Please enjoy...

They hung a sign up in out town
"if you live it up, you won't
live it down"
So, she left Monte Rio, son
Just like a bullet leaves a gun
With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips
She went and took that California trip
Well, the moon was gold, her
Hair like wind
She said don't look back just
Come on Jim
Oh you got to
Hold on, Hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here
You gotta hold on
Well, he gave her a dimestore watch
And a ring made from a spoon
Everyone is looking for someone to blame
But you share my bed, you share my name
Well, go ahead and call the cops
You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops
She said baby, I still love you
Sometimes there's nothin left to do
Oh you got to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here, you got to
Just hold on.

Well, God bless your crooked little heart St. Louis got the best of me
I miss your broken-china voice
How I wish you were still here with me
Well, you build it up, you wreck it down
You burn your mansion to the ground
When there's nothing left to keep you here, when
You're falling behind in this
Big blue world
Oh you go to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here
You got to hold on
Down by the Riverside motel,
It's 10 below and falling
By a 99 cent store she closed her eyes
And started swaying
But it's so hard to dance that way
When it's cold and there's no music
Well your old hometown is so far away
But, inside your head there's a record
That's playing, a song called
Hold on, hold on
You really got to hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here
And just hold on.