So this week I’m reading No Sleep Till Brooklyn No Hope For Gomez! by Graham Parke. This is the humorous story of one Gomez Porter, a subject in an experimental drug trial who begins to have strange experiences that he documents on his blog. Hmm, strange experiences documented on a blog? That sounds familiar …
I keep wanting to call this book “No Sleep Till Brooklyn!”, though as far as I can tell, nobody is going to end up there over the course of the novel.
Having a knack like painting would come in handy when it was time to reel Dr. Hargrove in. Chicks love artists.
Put a bird on it, Gomez!
Meanwhile, editing continues on Television Man. I’m hoping to have this one out by the end of the year, or maybe early next year, for tax purposes of course. Sort of like Hotblack Desiato, but without the spaceship, or the being dead.
Silence. The little guy had bailed on him. Bob had sort of hoped Paltruck would tag along. Maybe he was an imaginary creature, and sarcastic, and not really all that helpful, but at least he’d been company.
And since this seems to the post for rock stars and 80s throwback songs, here’s the one by the Talking Heads that gave Television Man its name:
Viscosity 
I tend to feel roughly equal measures of elation and dread whenever someone subjects their delicate brain tissue to my writing. Still, you learn every day and my next novel, should I accidentally survive writing it, will definitely have some kind of bird on it. Perhaps even two. Maybe then my mom will finally pick up a copy (though it’s doubtful, very doubtful.) Anyway, keep up the heroics James!
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