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Got a new (flash fiction) short story for you, called “Ephemeralia,” which Black Heart Magazine deemed fit for publication. Stick around and read some other tales of literary rebellion while you’re there. [Note: the site is assuredly not porn, though it may get filtered as NSFW.]

I used to get ethereal and ephemeral mixed up. Both are transitory descriptions: things that don’t last. The title came first, meant to be a play on memorabilia (or maybe paraphernalia), which conjured an image of a public figure selling off bits of his life in the classifieds. But nothing tangible, nothing buyers could resell or even prove, only experiences. That same day, I happened to find myself buried hours-deep in a web site called Bill Murray Stories, wherein fans submit tales of bizarre encounters with the actor. Combine an assholic actor with the quote below, motivate him with terminal illness, and one’s legacy becomes invaluable.

“For what is a man profit, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his soul?
Or what shall a man give in exchange for his own soul?” ~Matthew 16:25

The February 2013 issue of Word Riot features my flash-fiction* story “Speed Ramp,” about a homeless Indian boy with a flanging disorder, wherein his perception of time speeds and slows. It was partly inspired by the music video for “Guttersnipe” by Bhi Bhiman (below), which you may as well peep first—don’t worry, no spoilers there. Also, because it’s how they roll at Word Riot, you can listen to me read the story to you as well, for a multi-sensory experience.

Coincidentally, the last piece I had published online also contained Indian themes and was flash-length. Hmm …

My short story, “Untitled Stephenie Meyer Novel” (originally published in the Oprah Read This project) has found a new home in Noir at the Bar Vol. 2, an anthology available in paperback exclusively from Subterranean Books. “Stephenie” is a newly-revised version of my disturbing little tale about the aphrodisiac qualities of unreleased Twilight material in the hands of the opportunistic.

The first Noir at the Bar volume was one of the year’s best-selling books in St. Louis, as well as a Spinetingler award-winner for best cover, so when I was invited to take part in the live-reading series of its namesake last winter, I of course hopped the first thing smokin’ and doused myself in alcohol for the occasion. Here’s a recap of the event.

“No matter where you live in New York City, you always end up in Queens.” Opening lines always shoulder a lot of weight (and disproportionate thought). This one I pocketed from a pilot announcement as we were descending into LaGuardia, cemetery plots dominating the landscape out my window. Which later inspired the concept of a life insurance salesman facing his own mortality as planes of the multiverse collide: ‘Burgatory.