Crimedog One

TEXAS IS HOT

There's no double-meaning there.  It's just hot.  Like, "my balls are sweating too much" hot.

Gischler and I hit Houston's Murder by the Book tonight, and once again were treated to the best time in the city.  Thanks to McKenna and David again for hosting us and downing a couple of pitchers of Lone Star at Kay's Lounge next door.

Anyway, stay tuned in the days to come for photos and blathering about the tour, including:

* Two of the worst golf courses in Texas
* One hell of a party at Bookpeople in Austin with Justin C. Gordon from Out of the Gutter (and thanks to Scott M. for showing us that joint where they filmed ) Death Proof
* Another story about a place that gave us too much meat
* The horrible Waxahachie Super 8

A big kiss on the cheek to all of y'all who came to see us.  Thanks for the support.  Meant a lot, and we hope to keep supplying stories you'll love to read.  Til next time...I'm going home (well, not quite yet.  Going to sign stock at Square Books in Oxford, That Bookstore in Blytheville, and The Raven in Lawrence, Kansas). [Update 7-18-08: The lady who runs Big Sleep Books didn't have any copies, told me she didn't want to carry the book, and that basically, she didn't like it.  So...yeah.]

All those miles, all that caffeine and fast food.  I'm inspired to the gills, I tell you.

THE APOCALYPSE, A FROZEN HELLSCAPE, AND TEXAS IN JULY

Be afraid.

As of yesterday, Victor Gischler's ridiculously vital novel Go Go Girls of the Apocalypse hit the ground running.  His apocalypse isn't like the "gray ash" Cormac McCarthy-verse, nor the Escape from New York-slash-most 80's music videos with neon hair streaks and torn fishnets.  No, Gischler reached into the depths of his wisdom to speculate what Post-Fuck Up America will look like, and he came to a startling realization--we'll need a franchise.  But not just any franchise.  We'll need a bar with dancing girls, the Applebee's of Sex and Drunkenness (and coffee). 

I love this goddamned book.  It made me laugh, it made me think, it made me very afraid (no more Internet!?!), and it made me thirsty for Freddy's Piss Yellow Lager.

So maybe that's why I'm embarking on a tour tomorrow with Professor Gischler that kind of emulates what we're writing about. 

Me: Psychobilly Southern outlaw exiled far from home after Katrina, trying to find his footing (and a new angle).

Gischler: Stranger in a strange land, formerly the American South, looking for his ex-wife, some coffee, and some sort of sign that it'll all be okay again...someday.

The Honest to God End of Civilization, and a guy who just thinks he's found the end of civilization in Southwest Minnesota.

You can find us Thursday night in San Antonio, Friday in Austin, Sunday in Dallas, and Tuesday in Houston.  Details in the left hand column (except for a stop at a comic book store in Houston on Monday.  More on that later).  You can also find us on one of several Texas golf courses, but I don't suggest approaching us on the fairway after a wayward drive, or we'll sic Jeff Shelby on you with a 2 iron.

Like I said before, be afraid.

 

SHIT TO ENTHRALL YOU WHILE ALL THE OIL BURNS HOLES IN OUR POCKETS

Yee hah!  Here we go like Slim Pickens on that goddamned bomb--right into the heart of summer, all the scorched earth and shimmering asphalt you can handle, people.  And here's some stuff to contemplate along the way (especially good to accompany some good old-fashioned fugitive hunting.  Lafitte's out there, so get crackin', you layabouts!)

My Morning Jacket, "I'm Amazed" -- This one's so good it makes you want to get up, slap the four people closest to you and yell at them, "You hear that?  That's a great fucking tune!  What a band! Why haven't we started a band yet?  We'll never be as good as them, but let's try to play that goddamned amazing fucking song!"  And then you drop a few hundred on a Mexican Strat and never get past tuning the damned thing.  But it is a great song, isn't it?

Dewey Cox, "Walk Hard" -- It's just a good song.  Forget the context, the pun, the movie.  It sticks in your head, like, a lot.  "Looks like I've got some proving myself to do."  You'll go smellblind.  (Then try some Cox Sausage)

Metalocalypse "Knock Knock Texting" -- I don't know...it's just awfully annoyingly funny.

King's X, "Over My Head" -- An oldie from '89.  A taste of one of the all-time great Texas power trios (apologies to the guys with beards, who are also badass).

And with that, you can blink again.  See you in Texas...

BEWARE THE WERE-O-DILE!

Holy shit, I think I just watched one of the greatest Venture Brothers episodes of all time.  I'm still rolling it around in my head, just overwhelmed by its comic goodness.  Give it a whirl.  If you have no idea what's going on, then you've got quite a treat ahead: two and a quarter seasons of Venture to catch up on!

Here's a sneak peek.

WANTED: BILLY LAFITTE

Join in the manhunt for rogue cop Billy Lafitte at this new blog, a public service of the Bureau of National Domestic Security.  Or at least that's what they told me.  I didn't take a close enough look at their ID badges.  Anyway, after a six-hour grilling, they were convinced I had no idea what Lafitte was up to next...but they guessed that maybe you, dear readers, might be able to help.  Wanna give it a whirl?

AN IRON FIST NOSTALGIA TRIP

I'm pretty geeked out about Duane's upcoming run on The Immortal Iron Fist, and it's because I've got this little number in my collection.  Pretty cool, huh?  I was just a youngin' way back then.  I think it was in my uncle's comics stash and I somehow ended up with it.

SONS OF ANARCHY & BLOOD FATHER

More biker stuff: You can't escape the ads on FX if you're watching Walk the Line for the umpteenth time (no clue why, since Joaquin suuuuuucks)--a new series called Sons of Anarchy.  Worth a look, and the logo is cool, but the trailer didn't do much for me.  Ain't no Hell Ride, looks like.

While on the subject, check out a great book from a few years back, Peter Craig's Blood Father.  That's a strong entry into the biker noir canon.

You Folks Go On Ahead Without Me...

Well, it finally came time to start doing the math for a trip to Baltimore for Bouchercon this year, and no matter how many ways we figured it--different departure cities, times, discount sites, etc.--it still costs about NINE PINTS OF YOUR BLOOD to fly.  Geez.  Having missed the last two years, I was really looking forward to this one, but the new realities of travel slapped me silly.  Can't make the party.

Sigh.

I do plan on attending Murder & Mayhem in Muskego this year, though, and also to expand my reach to a few new venues next year, but alas, I will sadly bow out of Bouchercon and instead sit at home with a never-ending supply of rum and cola, weeping.

INTRODUCING NARCO POLO

Over at The Future is Bleak podcast, Mr. LeRoy interviews the newest Bleak House intern, code named "Narco Polo", also known as Lisa Nohner.  Sounds like she's going to be launching an author interview series over there, and I'm really looking forward to it.  Lisa was a student in my fiction workshops at Southwest Minnesota State University, and she's developing a tremendous individual voice in her work.  One to watch.  You can take a look at the story we featured last year in Bare Root Review, "Sound and Vision."  Way to go, Narco.

AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF SIGNED BOOKS

After the orgy of flame-kissed meats at Texas de Brazil in Memphis, we made our way over to Davis-Kidd Books, a simply stunning store, packed to the gills, and I wish I could've spent more time there.  They had a tall stack of Yellow Medicine for me to autograph, and I gladly scribbled in them all.

Next, the Southern plunge through the middle of Mississippi, already broiling in the summer heat.  Stopped outside of Jackson in Ridgeland at a fine-looking Barnes & Noble to sign another handful of copies.  (I had also wanted to stop at another well-known indie store in Jackson, which had been a fave store of mine when I was in grad school at Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg.  But for two books in a row now they've wanted absolutely nothing to do with me in spite of us asking politely, so fuck 'em.  Guess I'll stop trying to crash your posh party there, folks.)

Finally, long after the air conditioner in the Big Red Truck had given up the ghost, we hit my old stomping ground on the Gulf Coast.  A couple of days later, we treked to a gorgeous new Barnes & Noble in Spanish Fort, Alabama for another handful of Yellow Medicine paperbacks.  From there, on to the beaches of Gulf Shores (alas, we took no photos, but these folks captured it nicely), a resort town I hadn't been to in over fifteen years.  The clear green waters were hypnotizing (I do miss the water up in the prairies, I tell you), and we found a spot with decent waves crashing in to laze away a few hours before heading back.

We'll soon head for Slidell and New Orleans, stopping in Gulfport today to sign more books before taking a break in one of my favorite cities.  I'm sure we'll toss back a few Pimm's Cups at the Napoleon House, a few Abitas here and there, eat far too much good creole cuisine, and swim through the thick humid air of the French Quarter.  Another B&N calls to us on the outskirts...

...and we're not even close to hitting Texas yet.