Horror Novel - Wolves of the Land
So I've given up art.
I did this big huge amount of art, started a website made clothes all that shit. I was really fucking inspired. More inspired than I ever was when I was tattooing. You see I was doing it all for someone. The whole point of the company was to have all of this stuff t-shirts prints stickers whatever with printers set up the files all sent the cart set so that it would basically just run itself while I made new art. Then when the company got really rolling I was going to give it all to Ivana.
Now before you go and say something that doesn't matter at all to me about how that's a ton of work for someone else just know that I don't care what any of you think. Not really. Not about me personally. She's the only one whose opinion of me matters to me.
What I do care about is doing good work.
In the end she told me she was overwhelmed by it all so I closed it down and quit doing art.
There's no point when the one person you're trying to impress doesn't give a fuck.
The one thing about everything I've done, regardless of whether it was tattooing or doing art for book covers or the years I spent doing things to impress her was that the quality of the art had to be the best I could possibly produce. That's what I care about when it comes to clients. That you are without a doubt getting the best art or tattoo or story that I can bleed out of myself.
I always leave it all on the killing floor.
My whole life I've told stories. I've always read a lot. Always a few books going at a time. I hate television and I hate wasting time. Which is ironic considering how much time I seem to be wasting on a girl who in the end is more concerned with strangers thinking she's pretty than the man she claimed to love. To each their own. I will say that the most cherished possession I have is an old paperback set of The Asian Saga by James Clavell that she gave me one year on my birthday. She ran all over town trying to find a complete set with the matching covers in the edition I like the most. It is the most truly heartfelt gift I've ever gotten. And only someone who knows me better than anyone would even think to get it for me let alone going to the effort.
Thank You Ivana.
Anyway it occurs to me that people don't really give a shit about stickers. They just put them on shit and then let them fade away. They don't give a shit about t-shirts unless they are old hippies that like to brag that they picked up their shitty hole filled Grateful Dead shirt at a concert they don't remember. They don't really care about posters unless they are the kinds of people that have man caves where they video game instead of doing manly shit like rebuilding cars.
But books are something else.
Stories are eternal.
They can touch you the way a song does.
They can resonate with you in a way no other medium can.
Don't say movies resonate with you because even if you think they do once you find out the lead actor is a pedophile they cease to have any meaning to you other than the fact that at one time you worshiped someone who turned out to be a guy who fucks kids.
So I've dedicated myself to telling stories full time now.
I don't care about genre. I don't care about fitting into some arbitrary category that a bunch of people who don't know how to tell stories have created so they can keep bookstores in straight rows. So they know which tables to put the crappy mainstream book of the year on.
I miss going to bookstores and dancing in the aisles for no reason other than it made her smile.
So I wrote this book.
It's a book about werewolves. There's your spoiler. It's pretty violent and pretty weird and there's a dude nobody really pays any attention to who meets a girl that nobody really cares about except when it comes to what they can get out of her.
There's also a lot of killing. A lot of dead Nazis. Because it takes place in World War 2.
So yeah, I'm not going to write up some huge SEO sales pitch for the book. But if you get on here to read the weird stories or to watch me melt away in the silence then you'd probably dig it. Also you should sign up for this blog so you'll know when knew shit comes out.
The best part about books is that you never know which one is going to be the one. You never know which one is going to end up resonating with you. Which one is going to keep you up all night or make you wonder about what happens to the characters the next day.
You'll never know which one will be the one that means more to you than any other thing you've ever owned because the girl of your dreams remembered an offhand conversation in the middle of some shitty half priced books in nowhere Ohio.
So here's the links to buy the books. Go buy one. Let me know what you think. Tell your friends. Tell her.
Wolves of the Land Ebook https://www.amazon.com/dp/B019MHAFUG
I did this big huge amount of art, started a website made clothes all that shit. I was really fucking inspired. More inspired than I ever was when I was tattooing. You see I was doing it all for someone. The whole point of the company was to have all of this stuff t-shirts prints stickers whatever with printers set up the files all sent the cart set so that it would basically just run itself while I made new art. Then when the company got really rolling I was going to give it all to Ivana.
Now before you go and say something that doesn't matter at all to me about how that's a ton of work for someone else just know that I don't care what any of you think. Not really. Not about me personally. She's the only one whose opinion of me matters to me.
What I do care about is doing good work.
In the end she told me she was overwhelmed by it all so I closed it down and quit doing art.
There's no point when the one person you're trying to impress doesn't give a fuck.
The one thing about everything I've done, regardless of whether it was tattooing or doing art for book covers or the years I spent doing things to impress her was that the quality of the art had to be the best I could possibly produce. That's what I care about when it comes to clients. That you are without a doubt getting the best art or tattoo or story that I can bleed out of myself.
I always leave it all on the killing floor.
My whole life I've told stories. I've always read a lot. Always a few books going at a time. I hate television and I hate wasting time. Which is ironic considering how much time I seem to be wasting on a girl who in the end is more concerned with strangers thinking she's pretty than the man she claimed to love. To each their own. I will say that the most cherished possession I have is an old paperback set of The Asian Saga by James Clavell that she gave me one year on my birthday. She ran all over town trying to find a complete set with the matching covers in the edition I like the most. It is the most truly heartfelt gift I've ever gotten. And only someone who knows me better than anyone would even think to get it for me let alone going to the effort.
Thank You Ivana.
Anyway it occurs to me that people don't really give a shit about stickers. They just put them on shit and then let them fade away. They don't give a shit about t-shirts unless they are old hippies that like to brag that they picked up their shitty hole filled Grateful Dead shirt at a concert they don't remember. They don't really care about posters unless they are the kinds of people that have man caves where they video game instead of doing manly shit like rebuilding cars.
But books are something else.
Stories are eternal.
They can touch you the way a song does.
They can resonate with you in a way no other medium can.
Don't say movies resonate with you because even if you think they do once you find out the lead actor is a pedophile they cease to have any meaning to you other than the fact that at one time you worshiped someone who turned out to be a guy who fucks kids.
So I've dedicated myself to telling stories full time now.
I don't care about genre. I don't care about fitting into some arbitrary category that a bunch of people who don't know how to tell stories have created so they can keep bookstores in straight rows. So they know which tables to put the crappy mainstream book of the year on.
I miss going to bookstores and dancing in the aisles for no reason other than it made her smile.
So I wrote this book.
It's a book about werewolves. There's your spoiler. It's pretty violent and pretty weird and there's a dude nobody really pays any attention to who meets a girl that nobody really cares about except when it comes to what they can get out of her.
There's also a lot of killing. A lot of dead Nazis. Because it takes place in World War 2.
So yeah, I'm not going to write up some huge SEO sales pitch for the book. But if you get on here to read the weird stories or to watch me melt away in the silence then you'd probably dig it. Also you should sign up for this blog so you'll know when knew shit comes out.
The best part about books is that you never know which one is going to be the one. You never know which one is going to end up resonating with you. Which one is going to keep you up all night or make you wonder about what happens to the characters the next day.
You'll never know which one will be the one that means more to you than any other thing you've ever owned because the girl of your dreams remembered an offhand conversation in the middle of some shitty half priced books in nowhere Ohio.
So here's the links to buy the books. Go buy one. Let me know what you think. Tell your friends. Tell her.
Wolves of the Land Ebook https://www.amazon.com/dp/B019MHAFUG
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