New Year Brings Friends in the Indie Writing World

ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿªThe first casualty in the so-called self-publishing revolution has been literary fiction – if it ain’t about vampires, werewolves, wizards, wargs, elves, spaceships, robots, superheroes, zombies, super-spies, dragons, detectives, car chases, explosions, then it’s buried somewhere deep and dark and beautiful and good luck finding it. I figured the best writers were all dead and gone and that I was one of the last rock and roll survivors beating on the keys late at night and writing about – god forbid – people…we are in a cultural wasteland, make absolutely no mistake about it…the geeks have taken over the world and they ain’t letting go anytime soon –

So imagine my delight when I discovered Ted Prokash at Joyless House Publishing- – this guy writes and publishes his own stuff, like we do here at Screamin’ Skull Press, and he writes like one of the Lost Generation from the 20’s – you know, that ex-pat American and UK bunch hanging out in Paris, drinking, fucking, doing drugs, reading, writing, loving, hating, and trying to figure out what the hell this thing called life is all about – he especially reminds me of Fitzgerald, but with a good dose of Americana punk-rock/rock-punk thrown in there, and a touch of Iggy Pop for good measure.

It is beautiful work man, I dug it the second I read the first excerpt and I wrote this review about his novel, A FOOL FOR LESSER THINGS –

I am reading his second novel, THE BROTHERS CONNOLLY,, and it is just as smoking as the first one – second review for Mr. Prokash coming soon, kids…so check out his site, read his work, buy some shit, and while you’re at it buy some of our shit as well, go through our site, see and feel the wonders and marvels and, ahhh, fuck it, BUY OUR BOOKS!…

Thus on New Year’s eve, 2015, I write these words, 6 Rye and 7’s in me (more to come), while listening to The Replacements, their “PLEASED TO MEET ME” album, nice and loud, alone (wife Nicole at work), feeling dizzy and happy and ready for another kick at the goddamn wheel man, more laughs, tears, triumphs and beautiful failures – I’m also thinking some good grass right now would really fit the bill, don’t ya think?





When the rain is heavy and wild
you walk the streets shining and grey
the music soaked through gleams deadly
moments torn from your sunshine-memory
and the sweetest smile –

you think heavy glory under the brick-house awnings
water pelting away up-top,
that high saxophone hangs in the air
then the piano eases its way in,
and the barroom tremors cling like shadows
their gloom making it just right –

another one for me, jack, you
say in the wild of the moment
another sing-a-long beat happy rumble,
crazy young girl in the deep throes of your night
she’s doing it on the bathroom floor baby
blissful and tragic and forever laughing –

the unreal happiness sets in with long easy bursts
you crouch low brain washed down in somber yellow
teeth bashing an uneasy truce
and what a sad-beautiful sound it all makes
don’t it?

when the rain is heavy and wild
you walk the ragged streets
soaked all the way through with that
forlorn music
torn from your best sunshine-memory…


deadly silence got me low-down-hungry
thinking about that hot-dog stand on the dismal corner
beside the old beggar hand extended
16 year old virgin in hot-pants looking mad-bad-dangerous
crimson fireball streaking across the sky
middle-aged hooker front tooth missing
she beckoning my weary ass one I love absent in world-gone-hungry
Dixieland trio singing happy songs amidst angry
downtown laughter low-down drug-mood feeding me
blue music pornography rattling my brains
wrap your lips around my broken heart happy
whiskey bottle-shards hitting the off-keys feel that
fucked-up saxophone tickling your ribs
atom-bomb-luvly feed me sin-soaked dead flowers on my grave
warm kisses moonlight smiles
her distant touch,
her long-dead-musings,
her love-gone-missing,
her hips arching in the afternoon lust-dance,
and your blue velvet beauty grinding away from me
in the gutter-love sunlight…


rain just finished
slick sidewalk tasty-sweet
neon sign singing end of days
guitar chainsaw deadly as bass goes dum dum
night alive on fire in love man,
The Rezillos cranking the stage-dive-electric
shoes tapping a beat sidewalk-hooker-happy,
round face beauty we smiling kiss kiss
you so sweet girl nicotine-teeth lovely
vodka 7 in the red-light-madness,
early morning gray waiting in the
distant bottle rocket street corner,
what do you say punk-rock-crazies?
what do you say in the dark night wanting,
what do you say on the slick corner tastysweet,
what do you say on the blue moon missing,
what do you say baby,
what do you say ’bout my melancholy