Alex Grecian is a sharp, clever guy, and when a sharp, clever guy writes a novel you should probably check it out.
Click HERE.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
PIMPING: The Yard
Alex Grecian is a sharp, clever guy, and when a sharp, clever guy writes a novel you should probably check it out.
Click HERE.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Here's a damn poem
DOVER BEACH
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
-- Matthew Arnold
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Soon I will be inside you, Italy!
Next week I head for the Turin book Fair and other stops as I drink red wine, eat pizza and sign books.
Will I come home? That depends on how much fun I have.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
FREE FOR YOUR KINDLE, BABY!
So ... we do this once in a while. Stir things up with a freebie. As it happens it is FREE COMIC BOOK DAY and CINCO DE MAYO! And as we all know, good things come in threes. So it is also FREE TO THE DEVIL, MY REGARDS DAY. I co-wrote this with hard-boiled master chef Anthony Neil Smith and it was recently published in Italy where it's doing well. Now it is free for kindle monkeys. That's 99 cents YOU can save for meth!
This hardboiled novella is half hardboiled mystery, half goof on the private eye genre and half writing exercise as two novelists try to mess each other up.
THAT'S THREE HALVES!
Get it RIGHT HERE for your tricorder .. uh ... Kindle.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
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