Twitter is pretty neat.
I have no idea how it works.
Naturally, as I do with things I don't understand, I've decided to use it - in this case as a vehicle to deliver some random (usually old but sometimes new) short stories in bite-sized threads, like one of those halaal carts at Union Square shoving kebabs and falafels at your mouth straight from the subway with way too much hot sauce before you can scream nO, GoD PLEaSe NO—
—but you throw money at them anyway cus it hurts (and tastes) so damn good.
Makes sense, right? My first MotherTwitter is available to your big, beautiful eyeballs right this second. #TheForgettingCurve, a highly troubled The Cure-style (I thought of it first, David Freyne) monologue of a zombie returned to human status and subsequently tortured by memories of her death-life. The story was originally designed as a novella that never came to full fruition. I had the honor and privilege of reading it at the concluding dinner of 2018's Iceland Writer's Retreat in Reykjavik among splendid company - incredibly talented writers, poets, photographers, and other creatives.
Find it here and stay tuned for more. Teaser:
For 13 years, I was a ghoul. I infected 77 people. Killed 403. I ate all of them and more on the side, because ghouls are predators and scavengers, both, and ghouls will eat a week-old arm rotting on 58th and Lex because that’s what ghouls do . . .