One Great Song: There’s Been An Accident

“There’s Been an Accident”
By The Twilight Singers

Full version available at
Instrumental available at

So, Powder Burns, the latest record from Greg Dulli’s Twilight Singers, is now available on iTunes. I’ve heard a few songs from Powder Burns previously, and one of them is still the best song off of the record. That song is “There’s Been an Accident.” You owe it to yourself to hear this song, first with the vocals, then as the truly transcendent instrumental version.

Greg DUlli tends to think like a film maker, and that really shows here. The music alone brings out a lot of imagery, and the vocals just compound it. The song is full of rises and falls, darkness and light. Go check it out.

Wahoo’s Fish Tacos

Because Beth asked me why I don’t write about food anymore.

Saturday night found Shawna and me wandering downtown Austin, trying to find a place to eat. We were in this position because we said to each other “Hey. Let’s go wander around downtown and try to find a place to eat.” This should have ended in disaster.

Instead, it ended at Wahoo’s Fish Tacos.

A quick look at their website tells me Wahoo’s began in Orange County, California before branching out into Colorado and, now, Austin. Located at 509 Rio Grande, the place looks like it was once a garage. Only the bright blue paint and the surf decor tip you off that the place is a restaurant.

So, the skinny. Wahoo’s serves some tasty-ass food for some affordable-ass prices. I grabbed a $5 combo that included two well-stacked steak tacos, a metric ton of rice, and a bountiful smattering of black beans. Everything was tasty, and I got full for well under $10. Shawna bought the same combo, only she took the blackened fish burrito option. She finished less than half of it, as it was almost as big as a small dog.

On a sidenote, Wahoo’s sports the cleanest public bathroom in Austin.

So, despite the shack’s decoration as an over the top surfer hang-out (not a lot of surfing in Austin), Wahoo’s is a great new place to grab some tacos, a burrito, or one of their various bowls (I’ll probably be trying one of these very soon). My Austin friends should make their way down to Wahoo’s soon.

Google Results

So, every now and then I ego-search for myself on google. Eh, it’s fun. On my recent search, I found some fun stuff.

From a review of Trunk Stories # 3, which contained my short “Silent Corners”: ‘Silent Corners’ is one of the best stories in this particular issue, and the writer packs a lot into its short length.

Also, Shawn Richter is still sketching people as zombies in his never-ending quest to burn through the Rundberg print run.

Thanks, Shawn. Keep those sales rolling!

Call of the Wild Errata

So, let’s say you reviewed a comic for somebody, and let’s just say it was Mike Oliveri and Joe Bucco’s Werewolves: Call of the Wild, and let’s go a step further and say your only real critique was with the colors.

Then let’s say you found out you were sent the wrong color files.

Well, that’s what happened. I just looked at Call of the Wild’s final colors, and they are incredible, the perfect fit for the artwork. So, go read my previous review, then imagine it with me saying the colors kick ass.

Sorry, everybody.

A look at Werewolves: Call of the Wild

I recently got a chance to read the first issue of Mike Oliveri And Joe Bucco’s upcoming Moonstone series Werewolves: Call of the Wild, and I am here to proclaim that it is well worth your hard-earned dollars.

Werewolves begins with an act of brutal violence, one that seems unexplainable. This mystery becomes the basis for the issue. A mysterious stranger comes to town, sniffing around for answers, and the police appear to be covering something up. They are, after all, the ones who did the shooting.

That’s all I’m telling, plot-wise. You want to learn more, go pick up the issue. It should be out any day now.

Oliveri’s writing on this is tight, with dialogue that keeps the talking heads scenes entertaining. He keeps things sparse in all the right places, letting the art do its thing, and he’s telling a good tale here. I want to know where the story’s going. He’s got me hooked, as all the kids say these days.

Bucco’s art is solid, though I did notice his facial anatomy slip in a panel or two. He excels at the action scenes, and there are more than a few splash panels that will make your jaw drop.

In fact, my only real criticism of the first issue would be the coloring. The colorist seems to be going for a fusion between the flatter Vertigo style and the more vibrant Image style. The result is a little confusing, and I think the book might have been better served with some more subtle color work, closer to the colors of Fables or DMZ. That’s just me, though, and until I see what kind of paper the book is printed on, I really can’t make a final judgment.

In short, if you’re into equal helpings of mystery and horror, pick up a copy of Werewolves: Call of the Wild. I think you’re gonna dig it.

I don’t do star ratings, but this one would be up there.

The Plan

Now. with less than a month until World Horror Con, I have enacted The Plan. What’s The Plan? I’m glad you asked. The Plan is a multi-item course of action designed to get my ass published.

The Plan follows:

1) Polish first three chapters of A Family Matter, give to Shawna to proofread.

2) Polish first three chapter of Run Like Hell, give to Shawna to proofread.

3) Polish first three chapter of Tower Four, give to Shawna to proofread.

4) Enter Shawna’s proofreading notes.

5) Write synopses for all three.

6) Polish synopses and hand to Shawna.

7) Enter those notes.

8) Practice pitching (this is a biggee, because I suck at it).

9) Print up a lot of pages, put them into packets, and sell them bitches!

Easy, huh?

So that’s how it feels.

I’m sorry to swerve this place away from its writer-centric roots again, but there’s a story I wanted to tell.

This is Simon.

Simon is my cat. True, Shawna brought him hom when he was only a couple weeks old. She found him sick and starving outside a convenience store somewhere between Austin and Abilene. When Shawna presented the diseased miscreant, I gave her one of those looks that says “You’re pushing it, sister.” We didn’t need another pet, and I sure as hell didn’t want one.

And then Shawna had the nerve to set Simon up in my writing room.

And a friendship was born.

Maybe I should stop here and clarify something…

Simon is fine. I realize this sounds like the set up for a memorial. It isn’t.

But it almost was.

Over the last two years or so, Simon has grown to be a healthy cat of 12 pounds or so (did I say healthy?). He’s an energetic little booger when his favorite toy comes out, and he sprints around the living room, doing backflips and swatting at the air when I play with him. It’s amazing he’s so big, really.

Simon is one of my best friends, and I certainly love him more than the other three pets.

And Saturday, Simon went missing.

Shawna and I spent the morning at the Austin Farmers’ Market, then stopped to get some food on the way home home. We were probably gone almost two hours, total. Once we made it home, Shawna led the dogs to the back door to let them outside, and that’s when she noticed that Greta had some how managed to get the sliding glass door open.

Simon was gone.

We checked the neighbor’s yards on both sides. We checked behind the fence, in the doghouse, up the tree, on the roof, and up and down the street. I drove around the neighborhood, and Shawna started knocking on doors.

We did this for two hours, and still no sign of Simon.

So I started working on the MISSING posters.

And I broke down.

Shawna saw me sniffle a little, then grabbed the first batch of posters and went to go hang them up. That’s when the dam burst and I sat at my desk, screaming and bawling for a good ten minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard before, and it was all over this cat that I didn’t want in the first place.

I went to hand out posters to the neighbors, and I cried in front of all of them. I didn’t care. I just wanted my cat back. My cat! I didn’t even lose a dog like most other respectable males. Maybe that’s because I hate dogs. I’m not sure.

After a few more crying jags, I ran out of flyers and went home to print up more. I hit the print button and stepped out back to give one last look for my cat. I did this because I didn’t want to explain to Shawna that Greta owed me blood. So I stepped onto the back porch…

…and there was Simon.

He probably thought I was trying to kill him, I hugged him so hard. I don’t know where he was for those almost three hours, and I don’t care. I care that he’s back, and that I can still feed him every morning and drag him around the living room by his paws at night.

I love you, Simon.

Don’t ever leave.