Whole Lotta Links

Hello, beautiful nobody and everybody. Spring is all up in your business, no? Yes.

Please take a moment from your frolicking to read my interview with writer Steve Almond, here at Knee-Jerk Magazine. Congrats to Knee-Jerk for getting honorable mention (along with Cerise Press and Slush Pile) as best new online journal/magazine from storySouth's Million Writers Award competition. Top honors went to kill author, which published my short fiction, Sex in Secret, in Issue Two. They're already working on Issue Six, those busy anonymous editors.

And now back to spring: trail-walking (and there's Christopher on his bike. Hi, Christopher!), eating Indiana honey crisp apples at Locally Grown Gardens (Chef Ron rules: he quotes Ice Cube, plays reggae nonstop, and refers to "the culture-transgressive gift of fruits and vegetables"), picking up the pot of tulips knocked over by squirrel or wind for the second time today. Squirrel, I know it's you. But I shake your tiny, grimy paw today, pally-o. Frolic away.

The squirrels mean business

This happened a few weeks ago. I am apprehensive about mentioning it, even now: the squirrels bogart the wireless from out back, up high in the trees that may soon crash through the roof. They hack my e-mail and agree to transfer funds to BANK OF LAGOS. They have grown as big as cats. They slam into the storm door, scrambling upwards to the decorative gourd display. They stash dirty magazines in their obscene nests. Sometimes they look pretty at sunset, silhouettes balancing along a branch as they scurry home. They look pretty until I remember the pumpkin dragged from the porch and halfway down the walk, seeds everywhere, stringy guts tangling around my shoe. The squirrels are preparing a list of demands. I keep looking for the note.