Needles for Teeth Book II

Chapter I

Third Birth, a Girl, and a Paddle.

Where we start at the beginning of selected memory.

Ciao,
Shoun Otis

Destino

Good morning!

Needles for Teeth Chapter 6

Now available for viewing at MightyMercury.com.

Ciao,
SO

Growing Strange issue 5

The winter issue is complete and ready for viewing. Click the cover image for the direct link. Many thanks to all the contributors, great work folks.

Enjoy!
Shoun Otis

Needles for Teeth continues…

with chapters 4 & 5 @ MightyMercury.com.

Where our hero starts his new job and meets a muppet with war stories.

S.

Needles for Teeth Chapters 2 & 3

Now available at mightymercury.com

Here’s the direct link:
Needles for Teeth

Thanks for reading.

S.O.

Needles for Teeth

New online arts and words magazine The Mighty Mercury has kindly published the first chapter of my serial novel titled Needles for Teeth. I believe chapters will be posted on a weekly basis, but I’ll update here of course when a new chapter is available for viewing.

There are other interesting work there as well, a colleague of mine, Jason Heller, has a particularly wicked piece of word play called Spacesuit Day. Dig it.

There is still time left for submissions to issue 5 of Growing Strange, the deadline date is October 15. You can check out previous issues at the link on the side there.

Now get back to your porn!

Otis!

The Catholic Boy

Been off the feeds a bit, just got this info:

Jim Carroll, the poet and punk rocker in the outlaw tradition of Rimbaud and Burroughs who chronicled his wild youth in “The Basketball Diaries,” died on Friday at his home in Manhattan. He was 60.
(text linked to NYT obit)

RIP JC

Call for submissions for Growing Strange issue 5

GROWING STRANGE is an online art and photography magazine based in Denver, Colorado and we are working to test the limits of the written word and visual art to generate creativity in its purest forms. We are looking for contributors and supporters of this idea to help take online publishing to what we hope to be a new area of artistic creation.

We are now accepting submissions for its fall/winter issue. In addition to visual art we are now accommodating written work in the form of prose and poetry as well as examinations of music, art, and film within our and your community.

Our word count for prose is 4000 words max, 500 minimum. Poetry submissions are 5 poems per sub.
Creative non fiction is 3000 words max
Film critiques 2000 words max,
Musician and Artist portraits 2000 words

Photography and original art submissions can be up to 10 pieces per sub. Color or B&W is fine.

The most important factor to consider is that whatever you submit, it must be compelling, original, and well written. Experimentation is encouraged; romance, westerns, preteen wizard and teenage vampire based love stories are not (unless you can take these genres to a level never done before).

We consider excerpts from novels already accepted for publication. Please provide publication info (publishing house, release date, etc) in a cover letter.
The excerpt has to work as an independent short story. If a piece doesn’t come together in one way or another because it’s part of a larger narrative, its chances of succeeding as a short story is limited.
The excerpt has to be titled and presented as a short story.

With the exception of visual art submissions we do not accept file attachments unless we ask you specifically. All submissions should be sent in the body of your submission
E-mail to growingstrange@gmail.com

In the subject line please write your name and title of the piece

Example: Attention editor: Julio Cortazar-“Hopscotch”

We look forward to discovering and publishing new voices.

Ciao,
Shoun Otis
Publisher/Editor

Growing Strange Temporary Site

The work featured in this journal is under copyright protection by the individual authors and artists and may not be duplicated or reprinted without their permission. Copyright © 2008-2009 Growing Strange

Cosmic Slop

There was nothing else to do but laugh. We’d been drifting for a long time now; time doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. We didn’t even know where the hell we were, after passing through the black hole, well, we didn’t know what the fuck anymore. So we just drifted. Our generators had been dead since we came across; all we had is oxygen. We’d eaten all we could before the refrigeration went dead. We killed the last of the booze and all that was left were the psychotropic dope we were saving for the return trip. With these new shuttles you just have to set the remote pilot, pop a cap or two and space out (no pun intended) until we land. The passengers seemed to be okay. Everyone was either fucking away, or doped up and fucking away. At first my co-pilot and I thought the people would panic and eventually kill each other, but after thousands of films about space travel and the perils of it, no one was too surprised. They were laughing about it. Instead of a mile high club, we were a black hole club; top that everybody in flight school. My co-pilot made it with The Pop Star; she was in heaven after that. I never thought I’d make it with Jenny, the stewardess, had my eye on her for a few months. She wasn’t what I thought she’d be though, a little on the side of the starfish, but whatever, I ain’t complaining.
My co-pilot was the first one found half eaten. The Pop Star found her, half her face was gone, her neck ripped, her left thigh clawed and chewed. Everyone freaked of course. The Pop Star blamed Melissa, but she was fourteen and we didn’t believe him. We shot him out of the airlock after the remains of my co-pilot. Jenny we found next, same as my co-pilot. Everyone freaked, they called for Melissa’s head, but her mother and I defended her, and soon found ourselves fighting with everyone else. I killed a few of them, I saw Melissa biting Mike Conner the politico; she did her share with gusto. Melissa’s mother was caught before we made it to the lower hull. From the screams, I could only guess that they ripped her apart.
We’ve been in the hull for some time now, could be days. The mob outside won’t break the doors, they’re coded and three feet deep. I still carried a few caps, held on for the final moments. I gave one to Melissa, she gobbled the damn thing. I took two and laid back. Melissa took a bite out of my leg as soon as I peaked. There was nothing else to do but laugh.