検索キーワード： 制作 "Dean Moriarty" 文学・フィクション

And then a different bandwidth, not quite a security breach came around the corner of it all as I was writing my prayers on the wall of my indisposition, and recognizing me somehow, called out my secret name. Disappearing down a hole I'd dug for just such an occurrence I left everything I'd built over the years behind me and wondered how they'd found me or if I'd been betrayed. Well maybe I'd find out and maybe I wouldn't but I wasn't sticking around to ask questions.

Here is a book of short stories just right for coffee time. Most of them were written while drinking coffee in my favorite coffee shop. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Some few survivors that had resisted the zombies were rounded up too, and were put in the fridges to freeze them until needed, so that one day, when they all awoke sometime in the future, there would be slaves to work for them. As they slept, the steam powered breeding machine bred workers and stored them for using when the time came. Among the frozen survivors was Blue-Jane, See-through Mary, Captain Crust, and some others that in their frozen sleep dreamed about a story that ate itself to become a paradox monkey that was hard to figure out.

When the robot came out of the closet and began charging its batteries in front of everyone there was a cry of outrage from a lounging bigamist who went on to say: "Protect our children's eyes from the machine lest they become machine-like and poop in our soup." When the robot approached the bigot to clarify a point, the bigot ran off screaming and left a hole in the breadline that the robot promptly filled to great cheers from the crowd watching.

This is about Captain Morgan Jones of the Vindaloo Curry, a submarine he found in the desert one day, and after hauling it back to the ocean by camel train, set it to floating again after repairing a few holes. After trial and error and a lot of huffing and puffing, he managed to get to the Taff River and after sailing up it to Ponty, took on a crew and then set off for the Orient and many adventures.

"Come look through this window to see what isn't there where we have dates that simmer in the sun and we have barracuda timing and ideograms in the points of rust to shake your gates as you yawn," said the Sultan, selling dates.

This is about the spirit world - going there and coming back - and some of the dangers that can be encountered along the way.

I walked into this story from a hard place as an old perspective of confusion crept in over the stone of silence I was singing and went for the heart of me as I was calibrating some another dream that was easy to forget under the big sky, and so was taken unaware.

All characters in this book are fictitious and have no resemblances to any people living or deceased. I wrote this book over a three-month period of travel around Thailand and put it together in Bradley Beach, New Jersey, over the winter of 2012-2013.

This book is about the ghost dance to send the evil ones back to where they came from.

The soup sandwich of this must be: we do it every day but that is not why we do it.

Stream of consciousness with beat writing in a satirical, Gothic, noir and Zen setting.

The story of a dance with the divine. This book is number four of the tales of Zen and her travels.

A small earthquake was getting ready / To boil an egg But had bitten off more than could be chewed And so fell over backwards / And rolled down the hill to land in the bucket.

This is the third book of the adventures of Zen and her gang. This one is set in Machine City.