Mild mannered cartomancer by day, grouchy and reclusive artist and writer by night. Friendly neighborhood voodou-gnostic on good days, wild-eyed tattooed hillbilly witch/bitch on bad days; be-furred, femur-chewing, hell-broth addicted were-thingy on weird days. Can be found here, there and a couple of other places. Non revertar inultus. And then some.
This memoir of a love affair with an Afghan man is a book of intelligence, passion, introspection, and yes, trouble.
Take some war clichés and stereotypes, add some bad dialogue, and what do you get? You might be surprised.
Loving any book with my name on the cover.
Derych tells the story of his slow and sometimes painful metamorphosis from Dittohead to Democrat.
A valuable book for seniors, and those who give a damn about them.
Because the truth might be too costly.
A man faces the secrets he hides even from himself in the face of a glittering apocalypse.