The Real Memphis Mike (don't settle for imitations)

Every now and then, I like to think I got a little wood on the ball. (yeah, I know...I used a sports metaphor!) One of the secrets I've found to ensure a happy marriage is to not question things that really don't require it. Case in point, watching YouTube on our TV. The wife set up the streaming channels, and they're all under her name. I have no reason to question this. Our TV displays her YouTube profile, not mine. This means I get to experience more of her algorithm than mine. I'm A-OK with this. My own searches on there continue to confound the algorithm. While she might search for cutting edge comedy, I go looking for theology, old blues, indie horror short films, and Bulgarian real estate videos.  Somewhere at YouTube HQ, someone is in a meeting displaying this algorithm and asking, "Are they messing with us?" YouTube is predictable most days. I know it will suggest comedians, tech and space news, and liberal politics (my wife's preferences) and it ...

Please permit me to open with this: I am more amazed than anyone that my first book BODIES is selling. While definitely not headed for the bestsellers list any time soon, it is selling.  Yesterday I received an email from a reader in Canada. I guess he hit some minor hurdles ordering the book - but it finally arrived and he's pretty darn excited about it. However, he's probably not as excited as I am.  I've heard from a number of folks in the UK and Australia. Barnes and Noble, for whatever reason, seems to fail at overseas sales/shipping. I knew this was a potential issue when I opted to publish through them but now it looks like I have to look into outside distribution in addition to B&N. Fear not, I think I've figured it out! I'm going through all the details this week and will hopefully have things sorted soon.  Of particular interest, this new line of distribution will allow readers to (at least) order my books through their favorite local bookstore, regard...

The Man in the Moon is a fucking jagoff. There, I said it. I can't stand him. Always staring down, judging, smirking, questioning. He's unbearable. And I'll never get away from him. That's the hardest part for me to reckon with. When I was a little kid, he'd stare at me through my bedroom window. He'd cast terrifying shadows on the wall, making sleep almost impossible. I used to pray for cloudy nights. To me, there just wasn't enough air pollution to block his stares. When I reached the age of bodily self-exploration, of course - there he was. Staring through my window at my every move. Watching. Judging. My parents kept making me take down the old newspapers and tin foil I taped to the window to block him out. They thought I was nuts. They took me to a doctor. At first the specialist diagnosed me with scopophobia, an irrational fear of being watched. Further visits narrowed it down to a diagnosis of selenophobia; an irrational fear of the moon. In my mind, ...

I've always got on well with gas station people. I can't really tell you why; maybe it goes back to my teenage years. I would often hang out at the Clark station, shooting the breeze, and smoking Marlboros or for a time, Lucky Strikes.  It probably started when a friend of the family started working there. He was my brothers' age, and sort of a big brother figure in some ways. Through him, I got to know the couple who owned and ran the franchise, and the other employees. Most importantly to me, it was a place I could hang out, smoke cigarettes, and people watch. The steady drip of customers and conversations always held my interest. A gas station is one of those places where, on a long enough timeline, you're going to meet everyone - and I did. Everyone had to stop for gas at some point. This was a time before gas stations began to focus on being convenience stores, although they already were, in a way. They were just more efficient. You could gas up the car, grab smoke...

There are some who believe public transportation is, somehow, beneath them. This is a very American way of thinking. The US has a long, well-documented car culture. The infrastructure is designed to necessitate owning a car. Therefore, owning a car is part of everyday life for most. The nicer the car, the higher the social status - at least that's how it's always been marketed. Most don't realize it's a con, but that's a story for another day. We own two cars. Once upon a time, that would give the impression, to most people, that we are doing well. In reality, it's just necessity.  We live in a relatively quiet suburb of a medium-sized city, by American standards. And yes, we do have public transportation. By global standards, ours isn't great. It's overpriced and limited. Out where we live, I can catch a bus once an hour. The bus is usually relatively clean and there are rarely more than a handful of riders. Most of my neighbors probably feel they'r...

Hotel Oldsmobile. That’s what all of us kids called him. Yeah, kids are cruel. He was just a guy in a really bad spot in life. With our clean-cut all-American upbringings, we treated him the way we’d been taught. We treated him like garbage . He was maybe in his 40s or 50s. White guy. Eyes like a husky. Dirty. Needed a haircut and a shave. He was a short guy - maybe 5'4 - and had the build of a man who had spent a lifetime doing hard labor - the sort a man does because it’s his only option. None of us really knew him. We didn’t know what his story was. None of us were smart enough to even try to make one up. All that we really knew was he was dirty and lived in a rusted-out Oldsmobile. These days, the media uses bullshit terms like “ unhoused ”. Fuck that, the man was homeless. Without that car, he’d have been sleeping on the streets. Our streets. This was the early 1980s. The real boom of homelessness hadn’t kicked in yet - at least not in our little river town. He was our ...

While formatting my first book BODIES , I made a conscious decision NOT to publish an e-book version. I'm sure most think this is crazy. The obvious argument might be that not doing so limits sales numbers. I get that.  I've never owned or used an e-book. To me, that's not how I enjoy reading. Give me a proper book - a paperback, a hardcover, or a glorious old leather-bound tome! That's how I prefer to read. That said, there are other ways and they each are valid.  I heard from a friend this morning, asking if BODIES is available on Kindle. I explained my reasoning for not producing an e-book. I have no reason whatsoever to trust a company with digital inventory. Over the years, I've been screwed left and right on this. Music downloads led to insane piracy of my BACK FROM THE DEAD album. Honestly, the bootleggers sold more copies than we did! While I'm thrilled people enjoy my music, it would have been nice to reap some financial benefit. Amazon screwed me just ...

Where do I start? I am beyond floored that people have requested signed copies of my first book, BODIES . Honestly, I didn't think this was a likelihood, so I never really prepared for it.   Will I sign your copy? HELL YES! I'd be honored to do so!  Here's where it gets tricky... Firstly, allow me to be clear on this. There are NO FREEBIES. Please understand, there's nothing free in this world except for air and aggravation. As an independent author, this means the ol' buck stops with me. If I had unlimited funds, I'd probably just give away copies willy-nilly. But that's just not reality.  Even if I want to give you a free book, it's going to cost me money. Barnes & Noble didn't just print up a few thousand books and say "HERE! Do something with these!" A 'free book' for you will still have to be printed, so both the printing firm and Barnes & Noble will still expect their cut - that's just business. This means I'm...

Just a big ol' WOW and Thank Ye Kindly! My 1st book (BODIES) is actually selling!  Publicly releasing an original work - whether it be a book, music, film, whatever - is somewhat nerve-racking. A person takes the time to create something - something that means something to them (which doesn't mean it's of any value to anyone else) - and they release it into the wild. I've heard it compared to a parent watching their child go out into the world on their own. I was always lucky, musically. I had enough of a reputation that some folks were, at least, interested in what I recorded. This guaranteed a few sales. In all honesty, some releases sold really well, some not so much. But I made them. They held their own. But a book? From ME? Why would anyone stop to give it even a cursory look? Is it the greatest collection of words ever committed to paper? Probably not. I won't even say it's the best I've ever written. But there are definitely some gems in there that I...

 This is less an excerpt than a stand-alone piece. If you haven't read A VERY TEDDY TUESDAY , I'd suggest it. Otherwise, you'll have no clue who Teddy is, where, and why.  On that note, here we go! Teddy was pretty sure that didn't belong there , but he was no expert on humans or their anatomy, biology, or mating habits. What he was seeing just felt off  to him.  Humans are, as he'd often noticed, an oversized, confusing mess of sights, smells, and sounds. He was pretty sure they didn't hear well either, as he had attempted to greet them on occasion. His goal had been civility, not deep conversation. I mean really, he was pretty sure their overall intelligence was questionable at best. But, trying to be a good neighbor, Teddy had, on occasion, chittered a pleasant greeting upon seeing a familiar human. The response? Nothing. Oh wait, sometimes they screamed. Maybe that was their greeting reserved for special encounters. He'd heard it before in the house. He ...

 My 1st print book now exists. What a strange way to put it. I've always enjoyed writing, even when I was a kid and it wasn't cool . Honestly, I never thought I'd do anything with it. It was just another outlet for all of the ideas banging around in my head. For decades, a lot of these thoughts became songs. Now I've returned to the simplicity of words. I write because I enjoy telling stories - pretty much the same with songwriting. The only difference is that now I don't have to go on a stage or into a recording studio. There I days I miss both, but who knows...maybe one day I'll do it all again. Writers write for different reasons. Some for acclaim or notoriety. Some for profit. Same as with music, painting, sculpting, acting - I think those goals are a matter of seeking validation. But for what? Doing what you enjoy is validation enough. For years I've written this blog. In some ways, it's the perfect medium for me. I do it, it's done, published, ...

My dad was difficult. I can't say we ever had a great relationship, but not for lack of trying. We saw in each other the parts of ourselves we didn't like - or just didn't know how to handle. Contrary to popular myth, dad wasn't a saint. He could be a sonofabitch. His own mother, who loved him dearly, would tell you the same thing. She often just didn't understand him. Sure, he saved a lot of people's lives, and kept many more going well past their sell-by date - but he wasn't a saint. Really, none of us are.  My dad was short-tempered. He could be violent. He was a typical only child and product of his time. He grew up in a very working-class household and strived for what he considered a better life. How that translated to moving to Steubenville, OH I'll never understand.  Actually, I do - but that's a conversation for a different time. As it's Father's Day, allow me to focus on dad's good side. He could never be accused of not being ha...

 I told myself I wouldn't do this. I didn't want to share any part of the new book yet. But - I'm enjoying it too much, and that feels selfish. Lord knows I don't write for any reason other than to share stories, so I edited a few bits down to this little excerpt. You might like it. Might not. Might think WTF?! Might ignore it all together. No matter what you think, or if you even read it at all, I'm enjoying writing it. Those who know me won't be surprised. Yet. - MCM 6/20/26 Mid-afternoon sun spilled through a dirty window, cutting across the living room in long golden beams. Dust drifted lazily through the light. Teddy the cockroach made his way up a dusty work boot. The boot had been there longer than anyone could remember. So had the body beside it. The humans who once occupied the old house were long gone. Their furniture remained. Their toys remained. Their guns remained. Even some of the humans themselves remained, though mostly as bones and geography. T...

I might not be posting much for a while. Allow me to explain... As a writer, I have on occasion had to stop and ask myself, "Good Lord, what have I created?" I'm currently having one of those moments. About 24 hours ago, I started toying with a story idea. It began with the premise of 'any given Tuesday'. Let's face it, outside of politics, Tuesdays are rarely exciting. The Monday blahs are over, the workweek has begun in earnest for most, and the clock is ticking away 'til the weekend. This was all well and good, until I started adding different elements to the thought of 'any given Tuesday'. That's when I let the weirdness in. I would, if I honestly thought I could , give you an idea of the basic story - but I can't. It's weird. It's complex. It's multiple perspectives of singular events. Overall, it's a challenging exercise in determining identity. There. I've made it sound even weirder and undigestible than is necess...