My novel features a frontier city called “Joyland” that is inspired by, in unequal parts, nascent Las Vegas, Bogart’s Casablanca, Deadwood South Dakota, and just about every “Little America” truckstop along the highways of America–but the name came from a ramshackle little roadhouse in the blink-and-you-miss-it town of Cramer, PA just north of Johnstown near the Conemaugh River.
Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.View Archive →