These stories, that have been available on
Blogspot for 10 years for free, will now only be available on Amazon at the
address above. They are contained in “Vagabon Freak”, the 1st volume
of a trilogy titled “The 7 Lives of the Punk Poofy Cats”. I have been the
archetypal starving artist in his garret, painting, drawing and writing,
writing, writing as if I were some waif crying out in the wilderness. Now I
need you, dear reader, to hear my cries and go to Amazon and buy a copy of my
book and keep me alive. There you will find my complete tale, from beginning to
end, in one place, for you to hold in your hot little hands. When you read it
straight through, I assure you, it will blow your mind.
Below are introductory paragraphs and some
pictures that I still retain to illustrate this story, hopefully to give you a
come-on to get my book. Thanks for giving me a go, TZ.
Sample:
Out on the highway to Sydney, with the sun shining on his
freedom, he thought of the dream he’d had the night before. It was a repetitive
dream where he was carrying a small child that he hugged to his chest
protectively, often while on the run, as if the whole world threatened and gave
chase. This Child was extremely cute, sweet, adorable but vulnerable, and
Arthur loved him dearly, he was the essence of his heart’s caring potential,
and Arthur did his utmost to shield the child from harm.
Clutching the Child securely in his arms, he would outwit
the demons howling on their trail by speeding away on a bicycle, crashing down
vertiginous slopes, flying and tumbling into the fabric of a harsh universe,
the Child of his heart safe and smiling, as if enclosed in a protective sphere
of diamond-hard light. This Child was all that was good about Arthur, innocent,
guileless, fresh and bright, trusting and loving, not above seven years old, an
age Arthur himself never grew emotionally beyond. He was ever that child,
running along an infinite highway.
A semi-trailer loaded with new cars pulled up and a
handsome, blond truck-driver smiled from the window and offered him a lift, all
the way to Sydney. After much friendly conversation the muscular dreamboat
hinted that he wouldn’t mind sex with his long-haired hippie hitchhiker, they
could do it in one of the new cars perched high on back which seemed too outré
to Arthur, he was chasing enlightenment and he felt this would cloud his
resolution. He talked his way out of it by confabulating a young wife waiting
for him in Queensland, which made the trucker hotter to trot and, in his fit of
renunciation, Arthur worked hard to keep the spunk in his pants all the way
into New South Wales.
(If your curiosity is piqued please go to the WEB
address above and buy the book to read further.)
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