My childhood best friend told me in June that she had found the perfect birthday gift for me. She was also very upset that it wouldn't arrive until the end of this month. Naturally, I feel so uncomfortable and bad that she even took the trouble to spend her hard earned money (mind you after being let go from her job) on something for me when I never got the chance to get her son or her proper birthday gifts. Tonight she informed me that she had left it on the hood of my car...and man oh man did this fucking hit me hard. I don't want to get speculative or presumptuous about the shirt, its simply that...its a shirt that captured one of my favorite moments from Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. When Fred Rogers wanted the world to see that being a neighbor means anyone can share the same space as me, anyone can come over and try to cool themselves down on a hot day, anyone and everyone is welcome in my neighborhood. To me this was symbolic of a future I hope we reach. More importantly I think it spoke to our deep rooted friendship. She, an adopted Korean woman and myself a white male who in the strangest of times have found refuge, solace, and comfort in not just our history as friends but that continued friendship during some very scary and polarizing times.
Kindness, empathy, and the hope that eventually we will stop being so afraid of one another. Its fitting I had finished some work last night and stumbled across a video that I think sums up the zeitgeist so perfectly (and quite frankly, so sadly).
The need for community is SO important right now. Trust me, I don't write these words feeling that I am now or have ever been a saint by any stretch of the imagination. I had my troubles, my addictions, my shortcomings, my faults....at the end of the day I just hope that I have learned from these things, managed to cultivate better lives for my children than I personally had, and at the same time became or will become a better neighbor, friend, family member, or total stranger to those who are desperate for humanity or god forbid an ear.
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This past Monday, I brought my sons with me over to the home of my oldest son's teacher (she teaches a Montessori school out of her home) to catch up with her and her husband and so my son would have an opportunity to see them both (save for zoom meetings which he wasn't very diligent about participating in, he hasn't seen her since she shut down in March). Needless to say the two hours we visited absolutely boosted my son's spirits and for once he started acting like the kid that I knew before the pandemic and lock down. Suffice to say, he's angry and he's confused and I don't blame him one bit. Like everyone else his life came to an abrupt halt and then the world just became really REALLY strange for all of us.
They are really amazing people and genuinely two of the easiest people in the world to talk to. I chatted her husband up about about toxic masculinity, Black Lives Matter, Donald Trump, the recent events that took place around town, and I started to feel hopeful about what's to come because we were both so passionate about the conversation we were having (although, I can't say I am surprised at all as he's a truly remarkably sweet man and cool guy to talk to). I left their house feeling really great, they had even recommended that at some point I check out the new community bike path and specifically the bridge with all of the artwork. At the time someone had made a mural of George Floyd that they found breathtaking but to little surprise someone had ruined it. The husband told me the artist said he'd try to recreate it, unfortunately I never found it when I took my youngest with me to visit that spot. I did however find SO many amazing pieces of art. I love this area, I discovered it last spring with my oldest and was blown away by the sheer talent on display
When I was pushing the stroller back toward the cross walk, I couldn't help but spot this sign in the front yard of the house behind the fence
My stupid trauma tremors make it impossible to take a good photo when something is far off but it read "our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." I could not think of a better sentiment to describe both this current administration and the current state of the world that most of us still find so unfathomable. Stay safe everyone. I swear we are going to make it out the other side of this living nightmare and things will slowly begin to resemble some aspect of normalcy. I won't lie though, there are days I'm not even really sure that will happen. I have to though, for my kids...I have to be an eternal optimist. I mean, especially knowing that families like the wonderful folks who work in that Montessori school exist.
The very first time I saw the music video for "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum it was the summer of 1993. My sisters and I were having a sleepover with "Weekend Dad." My parents had divorced in 1992 and he started to slowly get rights to have us over without supervision. Many of our visits were genuinely fun as dad made a point to fill them with as much Blockbuster and Little Caesar's interventions to hide his true intentions. He used our sleepovers to interrogate us about our mom's new boyfriend in between bites of pizza or what should have been fun trips to the video store on a Saturday night. I remember it like a bad dream, finding myself snuggled with my sisters in between sleeping bags with the movie they picked our or some block of MTV videos. There was always a lingering sense of dread for me that being with dad meant that this could go from a fun weekend that my mother would get angry about on Sunday night bathing us (because he didn't) to a full on hostage situation. The toys, the entertainment, and the distractions were mostly forthcoming to my older siblings, but for me? I just hung onto the imagery of having spent a day, a night, or a weekend at my dad's poorly lit cigar filled bachelor apartment.
I still refer to the 90s as a decade that hated children. It HATED children. Every story from a friend or friend of a friend all resembled something close or worse than mine. Divorced parents, or the raging angry abusive alcoholic parent showing up uninvited to the parent who had sole custody (usually the mom) and beating her within an inch of her life. I realize now that everything I feared as a kid (kidnapping, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, suicide, murder) where both on my television but waiting on the pullout sofa couch outside our room. I just never felt safe as a kid. I learned as an adult that this music video that played a very America's Most Wanted attempt to save those who seemingly disappeared into nothingness were in fact the collateral damage of bad marriages or divorces. Many of the teens in the video turned up trying to hide at houses of friends or significant others only to be returned to horrible family environments. Worst? Some were found buried in backyards. In an effort to get leverage in a bad divorce. Then I think of Jeremy....
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I guess that was the great cautionary tale of the 90s...when trying to be the Catcher in the Rye, you have no idea who or what you're inadvertently destroying in the process of trying to address a real problem. The biggest danger of being a writer or a person who cares? What if what I say or commit to paper makes somethings so much worse? I address that in the book. A book that really stops getting nostalgic about something because the pop culture influence seemed so fucking awesome. I grew up on the fault line, as did my sisters. Teenage pregnancy, abuse, rape, alcohol and drug abuse came later. I am somewhere now with the anticipating of September 1st where I hope I didn't write a runaway train or jeremy and I hope there is something to get out of the literature that screams...marinate with this, let it resonate, and hopefully we can start having conversations about it without judgement.
No matter how good a book, a song, a poem, or a film is...ask yourself, where the hell did it come from and is it contributing to a dialogue? I really hope I learned from the past and successfully did that.
Have you pre-ordered your copy of "Nothing to Get Nostalgic About"? You can head over to Indiebound and punch in your zip code and pre-order a copy at any of the local bookstores near you and help support the smaller chains that are desperate for your support. You can also pre-order it at Target, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. Wherever you get your copy, I would seriously appreciate (in addition to your support) if you'd leave a written or star rating for the book. When it comes to the promotion of the book, I know I am at a severe disadvantage due to my refusal to return to social media but I am hoping that if any of you are active users on Facebook, Twitter, on Instagram maybe you'll help me with getting the word out about it.
I recently joked to a friend that my desperation move would be to adopt the Robbie Hart approach to earning a coveted promotional spot on your respective social media platform:
I will offer three writing lessons, for one Facebook post about my book! I mean, what the hell right? However if you prefer meatballs in lieu of writing lessons this pandemic has turned me into a pretty decent cook so I can make that three meatballs for one facebook post. It is entirely up to you. Something else I wanted to put feelers out there for (if anyone is actually reading this) given the global pandemic we are still struggling to survive in a conventional promotional tour is absolutely out of the question (a sigh of relief for this introvert) however given the recent boost in Zoom calls for everything from classrooms to doctor visits I thought it might be fun to organize a private zoom meeting for anyone who might be interested in talking about the book or asking me any questions you have (both book and non-book related). If there is enough people who think that might be fun, I don't know the book comes out September 1st so realistically what if I hosted one by the end of the month or in October? Leave a comment or shoot me a message if you're interested.
Another area that I'd love to reach out into is if you have a blog, a you tube channel, a podcast, anything that you'd love an opportunity develop content for, I'd be more than happy if you're looking for a guest to shoot the breeze with while helping me get the word out. If you fall into any of these categories or you know someone who does, reach out! Alright...I feel so incredible filthy now. Hopefully word of mouth pays off and this thing can find its audience.
I won't lie to you. I think this was probably the fifth or sixth selfie we took together. That was after the sixth or seventh she wanted to take with my youngest son in the picture. We switched sides of the stroller, she took the selfie, then asked If I would take the selfie. If you had told me in 2001 that the woman who left a note on my desk with the little smiley face explaining that she would be my resource teacher was going to meet myself and my son in a park in 2020 during a fucking pandemic just so I could give her an author's copy of my first book? First I would laugh, then I'd tense up and say...A FUCKING PANDEMIC!?!? but more importantly? I would say, there is no way in hell that I will ever have that moment I have dreamed about since we said goodbye to each other when I graduated in 2005. Handing Mrs. Burnham the first copy a book I published. Officially as of today? She has the only copy anyone will touch (including myself) until it is released on September 1st (I jokingly pleaded with her not to post spoilers on social media i.e. *spoiler alert* THIS BOOK SUCKS!)
Its funny, after I look at this picture? I don't know how my eyes were so dry. Hers certainly weren't. I don't know if she was trying to hide it or not, but I did hear a whimper and see tears. I didn't know how to process that anymore than I have been able to process the texts or e-mails from people I've known at various points in my life to congratulate me and let me know that they always knew I would accomplish this. God damn it, when the hell was everyone going to tell me? As surreal as it all has been (and I don't get a fat head about it because frankly, tomorrow I will wake up and try to survive parenting my two kids while my wife works, while trying to avoid the dumpster fire that is the current state of our country, and also thinking to myself...now what?) I still can't wrap my head around today.
To be fair, I had no idea if I should sign it. Why the hell would I sign it? I'm not famous. Only famous authors sign books right? Oh alright, I'll sign it because I can say something to her that will completely summarize how important she was/is to me. Shit. I can't even articulate or conceptualize anything that could hold a candle to what she did for me. Alright, fine. She once let me "borrow" her Live on Two Legs Pearl Jam album, no idea why. She simply told me it was her favorite and she thought I should hear it. Unbeknownst to myself or her? That was the album that helped me from a disastrous breakup in 2006 (a year after I graduated) that I only didn't think I would survive. I always meant to give the CD back to her, but the last day of senior year when I held it in my hand ready to give back? I realized that if I gave back the CD then I would have to say goodbye to a woman who did what no other educator or adult did in my adolescent and post adolescent phases...she cared. Not only did she care, she once sat on the floor next to me outside of her classroom when I was having what I now know as a manic episode, talking me through it with the kind of empathy that only a dedicated educator or guardian angel possess...and she was definitely both.
I jokingly also bought her a copy of that CD (as I stupidly lost her copy a few years ago during the great purge of 2018 when I was getting rid of stuff that my one year old son could potentially eat, or destroy) so I could finally give it back to her. Since we reconnected after the birth of my first son? I no longer fear losing the only person in my life who made me want to care about myself the way she cared about me. Hell, there is a town in the book named after her. She is getting my first copy. What can I really say to her so she knows how much she meant/means to me and how much I genuinely love her and how my love for her motivated me to graduate high school (the only one of my parents' kids to do it) and to go on and get my Bachelor's degree (only one in my family) and subsequently my Masters degree. That makes me the only one of my parents' three kids to not only accept his diploma at his high school but fight like hell despite a crippling learning disability and no self-esteem and fight for my life to not just get one but two college degrees (they'd feel way cooler if you know, they actually helped me get a job). Regardless of what came of that education, the point is...I did it because Mrs. Burnham was the only adult in my life to make me believe that it was possible. She was the only reason I went to school every day. Prior to high school? I had a fourth and fifth grade elementary school teacher who would antagonize and demoralize me in front of classmates over my penchant for horror, my inability to understand math, my drawings of aliens, hell she went so far as to phone the parents of my closest friends to suggest that their kids shouldn't hang out with me anymore because myself and my white trash family (my sister was 16 and with child at this point) would only drag them down. Middle School, I had teachers actually tell my parents in a core evaluation meeting that I was essentially useless. Then high school...because of the way I dressed and looked? I was told that my future was going to be bleak and I'd be lucky if I lived to see 30. I knew the PERFECT inscription. I scribbled some of the lyrics to one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs and the one that reminds me the most of the woman who tore the wings off her own back, handed them to me and encouraged me to fly.
That was when it hit me. OF COURSE I was going to finally do the unthinkable. I didn't have a choice. I HAD to publish a book. Why?
He floated back down 'cause he wanted to share His key to the locks on the chains he saw everywhere But first he was stripped and then he was stabbed By faceless men, well, fuckers He still stands And he still gives his love, he just gives it away The love he receives is the love that is saved And sometimes is seen a strange spot in the sky A human being that was given to fly Because I had to show her in the bravest and most incredible way how amazing of a human being and educator she was. I had to fulfill a dream in order to show her how invaluable she is to both her profession and to this world. If no one else reads it, buys it, or even acknowledges it....I had to show Mrs Burnham that Eddie Brophy could do it, and he did it because she knew that I was given to fly. Thank you Mrs. Burnham. I knew that a scribbling in a book wouldn't suffice. You are worth so much more.
TEACHERS MATTER. Let's make sure we protect our most precious resources of hope. God knows that without Mrs Burnham? There wouldn't be a book worth writing and subsequently worth reading.
Another Saturday, another act of hate that lands my hometown in the news again. This time? Instead of an anonymous letter delivered out of hate and prejudice...its a senseless act of vandalism. When I was driving around with my boys this morning I found myself at a stop sign right in front of a house where the white fence had "TRUMP 2020" and "POLICE LIVES MATTER" spray painted on their fence. I immediately assumed...oh shit, is this the person who wrote the letter? When I texted my friend she told me "That is happening all over the place now. Its not the homeowners its someone else. Just this morning we found Trump 2020 with a bunch of swastikas spray painted on a neighbors fence." I remember going home with my sons and feeling both angry and damn near nihilistic. Later on, when my wife sent me out to get lunch for all of us before we went to the zoo I found the above picture spray painted on a building. While I certainly believe this to be a glorified trolling of the polarizing nature of 2020 at the hands of a punk ass kid...the fact that I read his name the way anyone would react seeing a swastika just fucked me up. Never in my life did I think that a president could be so polarizing (and get off on it) that just seeing his name was equal to seeing a swastika. That he is being associated, rather...his volatile and divisive nature is being glorified by white supremacists and subsequently linked to law enforcement is fucking sick. I then read about what is happening in Portland with the protesters and think...this is how a Holocaust happens. For those of you reading this and thinking I am being hyperbolic and that none of claims have any merit? Walk around your community and see the polarizing nature of this coming election and the ugliness (on both sides that is coming out). Just a few towns away a retired veteran hangs these giant banners for Trump and they are constantly being vandalized. Look, I don't agree with who the person is supporting but you are giving these people ammunition. By vandalizing private homes and businesses with their hate rhetoric they can literally turn around and say well...you fuckers fired the first shot. I hate to say it, but ripping down a PRO Trump sign? As tempting as it is. DON'T. You are only encouraging them to do the same, and when they bring the hate? It is fucking scary to see. I am not saying to complacently allow hate to manifest in your neighborhood, but what I am saying is fight back in a way that they can't possibly fathom. Don't tear down their right to free speech, and don't vandalize their businesses or homes. Fucking speak up, find a forum ANY forum within your legal right to speak your truth and say that this man....this fucking man has become a symbol that is the antithesis of what America stands for. People are weaponizing their political parties, and their president and that is downright fucking scary. Trump has brought out the worst in so many of us on both ends of the spectrum. I drove past a pop up Trump store where they proudly hung the BLUE LIVES MATTER sign in their window. Law enforcement, Trump is fucking using you as leverage. He is literally using that flag as a reminder to the people in this country who revile him that...if you're not with him, you're against him and I have my blueshirts to protect me. Jesus Christ, fucking DO SOMETHING. Good officers of the world, distance yourself, remind people why you became cops and why you wanted to serve the public or what he tells the public? That is YOUR narrative now. Trump doesn't give a fuck about you anymore than the people who voted for and are vandalizing for him. Its a fucking game to him. Ladies and gentleman, if you TRULY love this country (as you claim), support our troops (as you claim) support your communities (as you claim) and are fighting for family values (bullshit, but so you claim) stop perpetuating divisive hatred and before it is too late...stop fucking perpetuating this fascism. You keep using Hitler, Communism, and Fascists to describe people wearing masks to protect themselves and their communities during a pandemic...and yet, you blindly go along with every god damn manifesto this man can cobble together. Who are the real sheep? Those who are trying to aid in the survival of our country? Or those who are blindly goading a man to burn it all to the fucking ground? This was what I eventually came back to...the homeowners scrubbing off their property from someone's bullshit demonstration of defiance to those who oppose their party, their politics, their hate, or their ability to troll without consequence. And below this was something I wrote in 2017 and published in 2018.
Mein Drumpf Xenophobic minds are now legally protected by patriotic iron curtains built by the leader we elected There's freedom to persevere archaic fascist paradigms that turned into brown shirt fashion runways and justifiable hate crimes Urban concentration camps outside of Hollywood D.C. citizens at the mercy of opulence wealth now dictates equality Sieg hail to the chief and this Wal-Mart congress the white supremacists belief that one Holocaust wasn't enough I remember reading this to a friend who said "I think that's a little too ahead of itself" I am not saying that I am the suburban Nostradamus or anything...but fuck, I had a feeling when I wrote it and here we are. Ladies and gentleman believe it or not...2020 is a bigger year than you think because if you're not angry? Then you aren't paying any fucking attention. "When you can't find the sunshine. Be the sunshine." Another poignant piece of art created by the children in my community. It was something I needed to see as Mondays are typically the most difficult day given the fact that my wife returns to work much to anger of our oldest son. Mondays are SO difficult because here we are coming off of two or three straight days of my boys excited to have their mama around only for her to go back to her job while our oldest seethes over the lack of one on one time with her. It was also difficult because a friend of mine had sent me a link to a local news story from last week regarding a resident receiving hate-mail in regard to her black lives matters yard signs. Suffice to say the anonymous author referred to her as a "Low Class N-word lover" in addition to more hate rhetoric regarding her support of the movement which accused her of dragging down the community and asking her to leave at their behest. The letter ended with "See you around the community." My gut reaction to that? Then maybe you should have signed your name to your hate filled letter. I mean, come on...clearly as a life-long resident of our community you feel as though you have earned some kind of elder statesman honor...its all about making sure that your fellow residents aren't depreciating the value of the neighboring homes' real-estate value, or the town as a whole. Okay, what's your name? Come on phony tough....why don't you out yourself for the vile racist you are. Put it ALL on the line. Risk your livelihood, your career, your perceived communal reverence, and your own real estate value. What's your name? Who are you? I mean...you think you're a martyr. You are doing this for the good of our town, right? Then either climb up on the cross you believe you will die on or donate the wood to members of the community who lost their jobs and can't afford to keep the electricity on in their home so they can have some light. It blows my mind how fucking delusional people are now. I remember telling this same friend...the funniest part about all of this? These people must think that either Trump has the coming election in the bag, or that he was successfully manage to squat in the White House after a landslide loss because these people are coming out and droves...and they're not going to be able to walk back their true selves to their communities. My advice to MY community, and everyone who is as blown away by this unspeakable low point in our town? 1.) VOTE. 2.) Take a mental inventory of people who let their true colors show...(i.e. this neighbor's house) and 3.) People who write shit like this are clearly mentally unwell. God, I hope they get the care they need but instead they decide to follow a glorified pied piper. Know that true bravery or true distinction of one's actions comes from accountability. If you commit yourself to sending a letter of hate to your neighbor? At least have the fucking balls to own who and what you are rather than to hide behind fake bravery which shows us what a true coward you are.
I shouldn't be writing this, but I am angry. The world is getting crazier and crazier and quite frankly? None of us can afford to be silent any longer. There have been people arguing this is a hoax (right away, you know who they voted for) and there are people who are absolutely disgusted and disillusioned over this. VOTE. Be the same community you always had the potential to be and were before this. We need our communities now more than ever. Do not let this scare you, do not let it make you so jaded you become indifferent, and understand that people who do this? Are 1.) Very mentally unwell 2.) Like to stir shit up for the sake of doing so and sadly, 3.) Might also be highly regarded members of your own community (i.e. law enforcement, doctors, lawyers, educators, etc) or related to people in those fields. Titles and jobs do not ennoble....I mean, just think about who our president is. I rest my case. Be good to each other, and take care of yourselves. This too shall pass, however...NEVER EVER FORGET the things you learned in 2020. Food for thought. I wrote this poem last summer. I didn't put a whole lot of thought into it after it was written. I remember coming up with lines when we were bed training our oldest son. I remember laying with him and thinking about how funny he was in the car when I played White Zombie and the song "Super Charger Heaven," and my oldest threw up devil horns and sang "Devil man, Devil man!" with such 90s conviction. I was just trying to get him to sleep and started thinking about being an addict surrounded by other older addicts. People looked older than they actually were and were still fucking alive doing what I had just found myself doing. I felt like I was in this hive of vampires and here we all were trying to escape this inevitable pain until you saw your proverbial elder statesman of drug abuse who wasn't that old but looked like Gary Oldman in Dracula. It was horrifying to me because I thought...is this a forever kind of pain? Like a vampire will I experience an immortal fatigue to doing this and wind up in this subterranean hive to succeed the addict who came before me?
I am really proud of that poem. It was published on Christmas Eve in Terror House Press and then republished by Better Than Starbucks. I guess I kinda peaked with that poem. I still try to write a bunch and make sure that more stuff gets out there...but thinking back to that and seeing this and more specifically how it resonated with the publisher of Better Than Starbucks...I felt a creative peak might have been hit. Man, its all SO fucking weird to me. I write a lot but I just don't think for one second that anything I say has any impact on anyone at all. When I came across this? It was fucking cool and I wanted to hold onto it for my kids. Just to show them (like the book) one day...hey, I did a few things with my life and I think they're pretty neat and I hope you think so too. I have been SO anxious about the book a lot lately. Like, can't concentrate just totally consumed by fear and anxiety. When I wrote that poem, it was because I was laying next to my son thinking....I fucking hate who I was and what I saw...I hope he never sees that. I was driving with my kids today so my wife could do school work and Patti Smyth's "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" came on and I sobbed. Because I remember hearing that song a lot when my parents divorced...and I asked myself "when am I ever going to stop feeling hurt? Does broken go away?" Meanwhile I was reacting to a feeling from 1992 and living in 2020 with my two kids in the car. Does the hurt ever go away? I can still hear it and remember it. It is awesome to feel like my voice exists now, but I guess I am afraid that the voice won't go away once it goes on sale in September. Because now that voice is asking...did we sell enough? does anyone care? That's why I refuse to go back to social media. I am the kind of person, I don't know what my own voice sounds like when its out there...I am just a little kid screaming because I am so mad about how I feel. When my oldest son screams it makes me so mad, why? Because I remember that internal scream and immediately wonder is he screaming because I fucking failed him. This book? Its literally 5 year old me screaming for nearly 400 pages. Does anyone fucking see me? Can anyone fucking hear me? Does anyone fucking care? When my son screams I immediately kiss him and try to calm him down. I see you, I hear you, I love you...please stop screaming. Please stop it hurts my ears...and I'm afraid you'll wake up the lethargic demons in me that are all waiting to tell me...you can't do this, you suck, you're a terrible human being, no one loves you. Please stop screaming...I love you, they're wrong, I can do this..I can fix it..please stop screaming...no one heard me but I can hear you. Through my kids I just keep seeing this poor little kid who is tired of screaming...I hope someone can hear him. As for my son? I am so proud that he can scream and know that Daddy hears him. He has a daddy who wants to hear him...even if he wants him to stop screaming. I never did. Maybe that's a teachable moment. Something that I want to great deal of emphasis on when it comes to the release of this book is making sure that I can make it as accessible to readers as I can. A big part of this is making sure I can get it onto the shelves of as many libraries as humanly possible where I live. I spent a tremendous amount of time in the libraries in my area, and I can't think of a cooler accomplishment than being able to take my sons' to get their first library cards and getting to show them my book on the shelves of the libraries they'll be visiting. With that, as excited as I am to be working with a publisher that offers such a wide distribution for my work I was elated when I spoke with the publisher this morning and he made me aware of the website Indiebound which allows you to purchase a copy of my book from several independent book stores wherever you are in the country. This was also very exciting to me as I wasn't sure if I'd be able to physically walk into a store and see my book with my own eyes.
Promotion isn't my greatest strength, but for the sake of helping smaller businesses (over the course of my lifetime I've primarily worked with small retailers) by making sure I can drive as much traffic their way as I do for the bigger corporate distributors. I guess this is where I am also soliciting help from anyone reading to look into their local libraries and see if they'd want to stock a copy of my book (if I can get a ballpark figure I'll know how many copies of my book to purchase so I can donate them to places that would be willing to take it) and if you have a favorite little mom and pop shop, drop me a line and let me know and I'll try to work with them to get my book in there. SO many small businesses are collapsing under the economical burden this pandemic has caused and while I really want to find as many readers as possible for my book, I would also love to be able to do it in a way that can save people money or help boost local economies. If you've stumbled across my published poems, short-story, or photos, and you have a specific shop you'd really love me to support or a library you love, let me know! I'd be more than happy to make sure the libraries and independent stores get copies of this book as well! Man, I can't believe this thing has a definitive date....September 1, 2020. Also note, I am not 100% certain if I will be selling books directly through this site. If I decide to? I will make sure its signed or has old blood codes to Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis inscribed in them. Really, whatever you'd want. I will still charge the retail tag of $19.99 because that's only fair to those of you who already pre-ordered it. Honestly? If my siblings, mother, friends who pre-ordered their copies at $19.99 found out I was selling it on my site for $5 and a complimentary New Kids on the Block trading card? They'd be justified in wanting to run me over with their cars. Ah! I'll thrown in FREE New Kids on the Block trading cards! Seriously though, if you want a copy of the book and you want to support me or your local book stores over the corporate conglomerates that are selling it? Just let me know, I would rather be read than bought (yeah, I'm genius when it comes to capitalism) but frankly, I care more about having YOU the reader and making sure you feel that your financial investment in my work is being honored in a way that suits your ideologies and creeds. Also, you might be a collector of old trading cards who may potentially get that ever elusive card to your collection by ordering from me directly. We'll see. If I get feedback on this matter I can make a more educated decision. Until then? Indiebound, Target, Barnes & Noble, Amazon. I appreciate your investment and your time with this VERY important piece of work. Hopefully I'll get to hear from some of you once the book is released and you had a chance to read it. Take care everyone! |
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