38 with a sludgy bullet

Yesterday, I woke up after four hours of sleep to discover I was 38 years old.  No big shock or anything.  I’d been expecting it.  Hadn’t expected to reach it on so little sleep, but that’s my fault.  Sometimes movie rentals get the best of you.

After I scraped the ice off my car, I treated myself to a pretty sedate birthday: hot pho lunch, shopping at Target and the book store, then a quick hour of prep work at the restaurant.  It felt good.  At the tail end of my thirties, I’m too often broke and stressed.  Sometimes relaxation is what I crave.  The simple pleasures of buying a new belt and a plain gray T-shirt.  I’m old and boring, and I love it.

Next month, I have two writing projects coming out.  I’m the featured writer in the next issue of LampLight, so if you pick it up you’ll get both an interview and a new short story, “Bottle. Paper. Samurai.”  It’s something a little different from me.

Second up, Broken River Books releases my new collection Will the Sun Ever Come Out Again?  Containing four novellas, I hop you’ll pick it up and dig it.  There will be a contest involved, which I’ll drop details on soon.

So yeah.  It’s 2015.  I’m 38.  Let’s go….