Finally finally-- I'm delighted to announce I've finished a new novel entitled BATHING THE LION. It will be published in Poland by Rebis October, 2013 and in the US by St. Martin's Press (and elsewhere) in the summer of 2014. It took a long time to write this one, but I like how it came out. I hope you do too. More details as they arrive.
I once had a very formal editor in England. Very proper, very British. While chatting one day I told her I'd read in the paper about a laboratory in Switzerland that had been experimenting with transplanting pubic hair onto the head of bald guys. Initially the concept appeared to be good because that hair is thick and healthy and God knows it’s tough stuff. But after having done a number of experimental transplants they discovered a problem-- when the men’s scalps sweated, they smelled strong
I want to be sitting somewhere. I want to be sitting somewhere with you. Somewhere as the sun yellows down to orange, and night leaks blue then purple into the sky, like ink dribbled slowly into a glass of water. Far above, the glint of a plane draws a white contrail as vivid as school chalk across the evening canvas. We’re in Greece somewhere by the sea. It’s hot—summer. Or maybe a late Fall day somewhere up north. Crisp, when sunsets come and go quickly so you have to pay full attention or
All right Carroll-reading community-- here's a challenge: DT wrote in that he wants to have a tattoo done using a quote from one of my books. He asked if I had any suggestions. I said I would think hard on it. Then it struck me you too should be consulted because some of you know the books better than I do at this point and have your favorite lines. So-- what do you suggest? The quote obviously can't be too long or else it'll take up all of his skin. When (if) I come up with something I think
On this last day of the year I was thinking about sea glass and what an extraordinarily good metaphor it is for what we all hope for in life. When it was created and initially used, the glass had no value. It was part of a greenish Coke bottle, a brown wine bottle, olive oil, or a blue drinking glass. Nothing of importance. Use up the contents and throw the bottle away. Somehow or other the glass broke and its pieces were scattered. This one ends up in the ocean. For a long time, maybe even y
OPEN ROAD MEDIA, the wizards who publish my e-books, just sent over a new JC project they're working on that already looks stunning. No details yet, but those of you who enjoy the things I post here AND my work, you're going to love what's coming. Stay tuned.
While walking the dog yesterday, I heard someone coming up behind me so I stepped aside. A man dressed in runner’s clothes and pushing a baby carriage jogged by me. I thought another one of those Dad-joggers who volunteer to take the baby along when they go for their run. But what struck me was he was running pretty fast and the traffic light at the corner in front of us was turning red. When he got to the corner, the man didn’t stop—he jogged across the street. Luckily no cars were coming bu
My recent collection of short stories, THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED A CLOUD, will be released as an e-book across all platforms on November 27. Only $12.95. You can already pre-order it at the Amazon/Kindle store.
When did your name change from a proper noun to a charm?
Its three vowels like jewels on the thread of my breath.
Its consonants brushing my mouth like a kiss.
I love your name. I say it again and again in this summer rain.
I see it, discreet in the alphabet, like a wish.
I pray it into the night till its letters are light.
I hear your name rhyming, rhymin
I just learned that for the month of November, Kindle books over at Amazon has chosen THE MARRIAGE OF STICKS as one of their "Kindle 100," which means e-books cheap. STICKS costs $2.99 for all of 11/2012. OPEN ROAD MEDIA, which published the e-book version, said they will also offer the book for that price on all e-book formats in November.
You Don't Know What Love Is by Kim Addonizio
You don't know what love is but you know how to raise it in me like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to wash off the sludge, the stench of our past. How to start clean. This love even sits up and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps. Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive to some cinderblock shithole
"He never forgave her for being so wonderful at the beginning of their relationship. Later when everything went south between them, all he could do was remember that magical woman and compare."
fragment from a stillborn story
Smells are unlike any other memories. They remain with us fully 100% forever on some remote desert island of the mind where they keep the lowest profile. Unless they’re shaken awake by something, they lay silent and still like sleeping dogs under the table. But once roused, they return as completely as the moment we first encountered them.
from the new book