Did a Reading at a Gay Bar!

So, Here's the Story

A friend of mine who I jammed with for a while invited me to come do a reading before a punk rock show he was putting on - at a local gay bar. Why there? Were the bands gay-themed punk rock (also known as "queer-core")? Nope - there just aren't many places to play a show at in my neck of the woods, not anymore. Live music is dying out all over, killed by a sneaky thrust of the club DJ's sword. But that's another story ...

So, I read a short passage from my debut, self-published novel, 99 Brief Scenes From the End of the World, to a mostly-empty room (it was only nine-thirty at night, still early for the punk crowd) - then picked up my electric and murdered a Waylon Jennings tune. I fumble-fingered my lead bit something terrible, and was EXTREMELY glad that no one was there to witness it (I'm generally regarded as a decent-enough guitarist in the local scene, although that impression would have died if anyone had been around to see THAT shit). Determined to redeem myself, I did a passable solo version of "Biko" by Peter Gabriel, then called it quits.

Here's another little Reddit throwaway, one that is (slightly) homosexually-themed. Solidarity, yo.

I'm Not What You Think I Am 

"I don't want to disappoint you, hun, but I'm not what you think I am," Constance told the john, and lifted the mini-skirt he wore to show what lay underneath.

"That's okay," the john chuckled, and he closed the door. Locked it. He turned around to face Constance, and his grin was full of curved fangs. In a blur, the john had Constance pinned to the motel bed. His cold, iron hand throttled back the screams.

"I'm not what you think I am, either."


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