I am taking a rare free moment to honor the birthday of a truly great man and even greater Canadian;
Justin Beiber Archon’s Den!
As a resident of the Canadian Riviera (better known as “New England”) I live in awe of a country that possesses badass versions of all the things we admire ourselves for- moose, maple syrup, hockey, beer, WINTER.
We, as New Englanders, have developed a kind of a hero worship for Canadians because of it- sort of like the kid who thinks he’s good at baseball, but knows for a fact his big brother IS.
This is how I feel about my friend, Archon. He’s every bit the wordsmith and tale-teller I humbly attempt to be- not to mention that he has a heart the size of Canada itself.
Besides, anyone from the same country that gave us SCtv and RUSH isn’t going to be a hoser, eh?
For those of you who have yet to experience this curmudgeonly cunning linguist, click on the Archon-ic moose below for a sampling of one of the cleverest minds the Great White North has to offer. Until then…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARCHON!
Is there someone out there?
Can anybody read this?
It’s me, Hellis, texting from deep inside a crawlspace under a house somewhere in Ohio. I don’t know how long I’ve been here or even how I got here. All I know for sure is that Edward Hotspur is not who or what you think he is. He’s something else entirely; something…evil.
My battery is dying and I am growing weaker by the moment so I have decided to use my last blog post to tell the tale of what happened to me, hoping others might avoid the same cruel fate.
It all started a year ago when I asked Edward Hotspur what his attraction to rainbow pissing unicorns was. I mean, there were pics of them all over his blog, so surely they had meaning to him, right? Yeah, well, my curiosity was my first mistake.
He answered innocently enough, stating that this was merely an expression of his quirky sense of humor. I told him I found the pictures humorous as well, and thus began our friendship. It wasn’t long before we were trading emails of pics we’d find on the net, each one more absurd than the one that came before.
Then came that fateful day when EH would invite me to his home to see his collection of Rainbow Pissing Unicorn figurines. I knew Ohio was far away, but come on people, how could I resist? I mean, who has a collection of Rainbow Pissing Unicorns? Am I right?
Once in Ohio he showed me around his “lair” decorated from floor to ceiling with Rainbow Pissing Unicorn figurines, all hand-crafted from what he described as “bone” china. After viewing his collection he offered me tea which I drank willingly. Soon I felt light-headed and queasy, and the world began to spin in one giant, rainbow swirl. The next thing I knew I woke up here, in a crawlspace, with only a view of his lair through a tiny gap in the floorboards above my head.
Wait…I hear him coming. I can just make out him setting a giant pot of water to boil. Damn, he’s moved out of sight…I can still hear him though…singing to himself as he…he…sharpens something….
CLICK BELOW TO SAVE ME OR…
CLICK TO START FROM THE BEGINNING…
For those of you out there who may not know, today’s birthday boy, El Guapo, was the first adult male fan of my novel, THE GODS OF ASPHALT. As a first time novelist, it was a real trip for me to hear feedback from someone who enjoyed my book as much as he did. New writers are often insecure about their work, and El Guapo made me believe I might actually have something worth writing about.
I’ve always wondered if there was a way that I could repay him for his kind words early on. I decided that his birthday would be the perfect day to thank him. So here’s my gift to you, El Guapo, and it comes in two parts.
I am in the process of writing a secret book (yes, in addition to REAPERS and the rest of THE GODS OF ASPHALT series). What I can tell you is that it is set in the seventies and involves the classic rock music scene. I am thinking there is a place in my novel for a character by the name of El Guapo who drives the protagonist’s band’s tour bus, and who has a penchant for Hawaiian shirts. By the way, he gets all the groupies.
As I was writing THE GODS OF ASPHALT I discovered that it was entirely too long, so I cut a scene that never made it into the book. It was an early scene that showed Gus every morning waking up, staring out the window in a longing sort of way, listening to John Coltrane’s After The Rain. I was sad that I had to cut that scene because I really liked it. When I think about it now, I often think you would have liked it too. I may have cut the scene, but I’ve included the song.
Happy Birthday, El Guapo.