Sunday, May 31, 2015

June 8th or, "June 8th"

Remember when I said that I'd have She Sees Metaphors out on June 8th? Well, June 8th has become "June 8th," a concept more so than date. Kind of like Community season 4 airing on October 19th.






"So why is this?" all five of you ask. Well, it's simple really. The proof copies of She Sees Metaphors have been ordered, but when do they arrive? 

Estimated delivery date: June 8th.

It would be silly as fuck of me to assume that once the proof copies arrive that I'll be able to read them, fix them and publish them all on that day, especially since I am probably going to be working that morning. (How else am I going to pay my bills? Writing? Bahaha!) 

But there is still a wonderful possibility that June 8th will still happen in June. There's a solid no man's land between the proof arrival date and Electric Forest, and I will spend every moment outside of work going through the proof and making sure that it's pretty as fuck. Because I like pretty as fuck.

So in the mean time, here's a sneak peak of the cover art.


Jon's top knot isn't real. It's just a metaphor.


And here's a picture of the hippy's cat, Uno.


As in, "I am Satan's numero..."


As always, more details to come. While I wait, I'll be working semi-diligently on my sophomore release while also picking at my third. Thanks for the support and see you folks soon!



Monday, May 18, 2015

An Elegant "Fuck You, I Quit"

Day jobs come, and day jobs go. With the coming of a new day job, one I quite enjoy and find myself recalling the same pleasure my protagonist experiences in her day job, the time to exit the former has arrived. The timing of such could not be better, as our abusive and downright awful assistant manager is returning from sick leave. And with that I have decided the best course of action is to send one great big, "Fuck you, I quit this bitch!" letter. But not just any "Fuck you, I quit this bitch!" letter. A "Fuck you, I quit this bitch!" letter with class. One that packs a punch so professional and so deep, that the middle finger hanging out between the lines is unmistakable. And with that, dear readers, comes this little gem:

Management,

I’m writing this letter to inform you of my resignation from [This Hellhole], effective immediately. It has come to my attention that a manager who has been had multiple complaints for verbal abuse and sexual harassment is being allowed to return to [This Hellhole], and it is for this reason that I am choosing the resign.

Under normal circumstances I would prefer to give a minimum of two weeks notice before leaving, however since it is clear that this is a company that willingly employs unethical and abusive management, I see no need to do so. I will not support and offer convenience to a workplace that clearly does not care for its staff and would rather allow they face scrutiny and abuse than to go through the effort of hiring and training a replacement manager.

I will return my keys and uniform within the week.

Sincerely,

[Author's Name, Not BDS]



Ahhh.... Freedom. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

A Fish Out Water: A Prologue

Summer is upon us, children of the lord, and with that brief window of sun and capital city construction work comes the looming music festival dates like a woman slowly undressing in front of a sex addict in a sleazy motel just off the interstate. If you listen close, you can hear the sounds of rising erections and pulsing panties in drug dealers as they wait for their excess of summer cash.

Or maybe that's just me being a judgmental asshole. Who knows? Who cares? Not I, said the scribe. 

Last year I experienced my first music festival at Electric Forest, something I did because the hippy absolutely loves it and I wanted to experience something she cares so deeply about with her. It would be a learning experience and an opportunity to grow closer to each other. I expected to hate every single single second of it.


Look at that bald, miserable piece of shit. Look at that gorgeous hippy.

(Photo courtesy of the official Electric Forest Photographers or whatever.)


People. Crowds. People. More people. It sounded awful, like a trip to the doctor to find out what that weird growth on your penis is, praying its something benign and soon to be forgotten. Naturally, my extreme pessimism was unfounded and the entire trip turned out to be some of the most fun I've had on overpriced vodka.

And so, to carry on the tradition of new experience, the hippy and I will be going to both Summer Camp and Electric Forest this year, a feat that's guaranteed to stomp the life out of my bank account like an ant wandering through a military march. And since I will still be quite the fish out of water, I shall document my experiences and record them here, for all of you to see just how awkward and judgmental I really am. 



***

In other news, the cover art to She Sees Metaphors is nearly complete!!! The final proof reading is well underway and my hopeful date of June 8th may not be a pipe dream so much as a general time frame for something that will most certainly happen. Details, pictures, and all that jazz will come as soon as I have something to offer. 

Stay tuned, stay safe, and stay out of cheap brothels.

-BDS