The rumors of my death have been slightly exaggerated. Though correct in essence, my Lazarus Machine worked with admirable efficiency, considering that it’s made of discarded yoga mats and turn-of-the-century farm equipment.

There have been various new reviews and interviews, tragedies and Magoo-esque successes. Google if you’re curious.

I’ve been called away into that little place of exestential angst that allows me to get some work done, so I may again be incommunicado for a bit.

Satiate yourselves on what’s available, and feel free to send emails into the void of my inbox, should you have a question that you’d like ignored.

New novel out as soon as I find which truckstop I left my mind in.


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