TFMA goes live!

It's been a long road, but we're finally here.  The last few months have been difficult ones, as I've cast off the shackles of conventional living (i.e. making money, eating food, etc.) and...

The Flying Monkey Apparatus

Author Archives: Mikey

About Mikey

Used to work for The Man, decided to quit and make stuff up for a living.

Words and No Pictures

So after a brief apology for trying to kill her—and this is by no means a guarantee that I won’t try again—we were back on our way, exploring a new world together. It’s… different. The place the story began and the place that it went were both surprises, and I think that’s important. That’s the exciting part about writing for me. To relentlessly plot something is to remove from it the joy of discovery.

Posted in Life, Work | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

The Meritocracy of Tiny Tower

At least we aren’t beholden to some dictator who’ll immediately evict anyone whose dream isn’t to fill the opening at the Mexican restaurant.

Posted in Diatribes, Life, Work | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

New House, Old House

For those few who may have been concerned about my near-complete absence from the blog, rest assured that I have not fallen off the face of the earth as reported. I’m still clinging desperately to the edge of it, which as it turns out is somewhere around N 28th and Decatur, not too far past the 7-Eleven.

Posted in Life, Other Reviews, Work | 1 Comment

eBooks and the Ownership Machine

While I don’t claim that eBooks have no purpose as useful tools, I don’t think a world where parents have their iPads read animated books to their children before bedtime is going to be a better world, and that’s a story I already hear far too often. If I said it didn’t alarm me, I’d be lying.

Posted in Diatribes | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Texas and the Collective Vehicular Deathwish

Finally, I’m south. After much travel, aggravation, inspiration, and diner food consumption, the move is officially over and I’m in Arlington, Texas. All that remains is to add spikes and rocket launchers to my car so that I can live long enough to enjoy it.

Posted in Diatribes, Life | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Unsimple Responsibility of Parenthood

The merits of raising a child, like most things, should be based upon how well that job is done. I don’t understand the notion that childbirth carries some sort of inherent nobility with it, or that it somehow transforms ignorant people into bastions of wisdom.

Posted in Diatribes | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Driving: Sometimes Painful

The first two days had their trials, but also their glories. The car is so tightly packed that comfort is an impossibility, and our itinerary requires a drive of between 7 to 9 hours each day, but we’ve gotten to see a lot of gorgeous countryside, including a heavily snow-laden Grapevine as the car chugged its way into southern California, which was a pretty sight indeed, and one I’ve certainly never seen before.

Posted in Life, TFMA | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

History and Deviation

After 7 years of being a part of deviantART, I received my first Daily. You can read the poem here. nycterent‘s description of it humbled me. Also, there’s something in here about rancid hamburger and banana salad. I don’t know. It’s late.

Posted in Life, Work | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

New Things

It begins with a song and ends abruptly, almost frustratingly, being jarring in that “right” way which only makes sense when you are so entranced as to forget the end will come as soon as it does, close the cover while wishing that there was more, and still manage to avoid feeling shortchanged as you place it back upon the shelf.

Posted in Book Reviews, Life | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

(Late) Christmas Greetings & Loot Lists

Loot includes: a stack of beautiful books that reaches several feet into the air, the 2010 anthology of Best American Comics, my personal Holy Grail: copy 257 of the extremely limited, entirely too expensive first and only edition of Melinda by author Neil Gaiman and illustrator Dagmara Matuszak, and an ungodly pile of coffee and tea that should keep me caffeinated enough to work well into the wee hours during the long nights ahead.

Posted in Life | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment
  • From “Lucid Interval”

    She's three years old again, sitting alone on the living room floor. The room is filled with the sounds of Cookie Monster eating on the TV, and she glances up from her toys. But she's confused. Cookie Monster isn't there. He's been replaced by an epileptic fit, a head wrapped in white cloth that struggles against some half-seen restraint.

    Something heavy moves in waves from the TV. She smells fear and disease but can't understand.

    And then it's over. Big Bird is back, talking sense to her, admonishing her with his eyes for even thinking she saw something so adult. Shit like that doesn't happen, little girl. We're one big happy family here.